Food for the Soul (part 3)

Cassidy welcomed Franklin in to the restaurant.

"I hope you don't mind meeting me here."

"Not at all. It's what I would do if I were you."

"Excuse me?"

"If I were going to talk to someone I didn't quite trust about a subject I had been burned on before I would make sure I did it in the place I felt most comfortable and also most confident. For instance if you were interviewing me we would do it in my office and I would angle your chair so you could see all of my awards. Instead I will just slyly mention them here."

Cassidy laughed, "Okay, now that you've brought it up why would Pulitzer Prize winner Franklin Roth choose to do a piece on me? This is a little too fluffy for your normal writing isn't it?"

"Ah, I see you did do your research on me! Wonderful. Okay, before we get to your story I will give you mine. Seem fair?"

"Sure." Cassidy leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea, "Go on."

"As you now know I moved to town to take over The Insider. I haven't found a place to live just yet so have been staying at a hotel near the office. There is not much that is more depressing than working all day and then heading straight to a room that could be in any city in any place in the world. I wanted to start getting a feel for the people around me and that started at the bar in the lobby.

The reason why I got in to reporting was because stories fascinate me. Everyone has a story. Every place has a story. And what you see on the first glance is rarely all there is to know. So I tend to watch people when I am out. I see what they are doing. I try to guess why. So sitting in a bar watching people is great fun for me.

Our friend Sam intrigued me. The first night I saw him he was sitting by himself. He would glance at his phone then at his notebook then his phone again but every time someone walked in and Gary, it's Gary right? The bartender?" Cassidy nodded her head. "So when Gary greeted them his head would snap up and he would look to see who it was. He was obviously waiting for someone. Someone who never came. I thought the poor guy had been stood up. Happens. But then the next night I'm walking past the bar on my way out of the lobby and I see he's there again. Well now this is a little more interesting. I went in and watched him, same routine. Phone, notebook, watch the door, leave alone. So now I'm wondering, who is he looking for? Is he a private investigator? Is he a spy? Is he a really really unlucky dater?"

Cassidy laughed, "You have quite the imagination."

"It's part of the job. You have to think of the questions so you know what to ask. So this goes on for four nights. I decided that I was going to approach him and get his story on the fifth. There had to be something there. So I made sure I was sitting near enough to him to make my move and then you walked in. I could tell you were who he had been waiting for because he became like a dog on point. Everything turned toward you. But he didn't approach you. And you obviously had no idea who he was. So now I was really curious. What exactly was going on. Not a private investigator or a spy because he was too obvious about you being his target.

Then when he did finally approach and I accidentally leaned in closer to eavesdrop on your conversation I heard my newspaper and misquoting come up I knew he might not get his story but I had an angle for mine."

Cassidy shook her head, "Now I'm really lost. You heard that I was angry over being misquoted by the newspaper you are now running and your first thought is you want to talk to me more? Shouldn't your first thought have been how the hell can I get out of here without being noticed?"

Franklin laughed, "No. I run toward danger! Okay, well, maybe not danger but slightly ticked off restaurateurs I run towards them. Now don't take this the wrong way, but you are just the first step in a series I want The Insider to do. Our industry hasn't had the best of reputations as of late. Too much sensationalism, not enough journalism. I want to do a series showing what happens when things aren't presented in exactly a fair light. We are going to start with you, a local story, and the ramifications of that interview, and then move broader and broader showing regional, national and international stories and the effects of less than honest reporting. How misinformation is really worse than no information at all.

So that's my story on why I want to tell your story. I'm using you to make a broader point basically. You should know that upfront. I want to ease our readers in to paying attention to what I am going to be saying later. And I think if I can coat it all in hearts and flowers, or the lack there of, then it will go down easier."

"Okay."

"Okay? As in we have a deal? You give me the long interview and we tell your story the way you thought it would be told all along? That okay?"

"Yes, that okay."

"Great! So tell me, Cassidy, how long have you hated love?"

Food for the Soul (part 2)....

Who knew something so simple as answering "Nothing" would start the ball rolling on an entire article written about how much she hated Valentine's Day. And who knew so many people would take it so personally. 

"Five years ago The Insider wrote about your restaurant and how you would be the only place in town not celebrating Valentine's Day. This in turn made you the go to place for the Anti-Valentine crowd. So would you say that your stance on hating love has made you a sort of anti-hero for the ages?"

Cassidy laughed, "It seems like you already have your story written. Why are you bothering talking to me at all?"

"Well I had to do something while your staff was freezing me out. I asked around. Re-read all of the previous interviews and articles. But honestly, I thought it would be nice to get it straight from you." Sam flipped through his notebook, "'Cassidy's Place won't be the place for star crossed lovers this Valentine's Day if owner Cassidy Paisley has anything to do with it.' That was the lead for the original article that put you on the map. 'Valentine's Day is basically a scam.' That was a quote from you right?"

"Yes it was. And I stand by that. And what I said before and after that. The parts that didn't make it in to that article. And the parts that would ruin your pre-written paragon of journalistic integrity piece as well. So I will leave you to it, and because I'm a swell gal I won't even hold you to paying my tab." Cassidy waved Gary over to settle up and leave.

"Fiesty Cassidy Paisley stands by her Valentine hating ways, that works, thanks!" Sam collected his things and left the bar.

As Gary headed over toward Cassidy he was intercepted by another customer, "I'd like to pay her tab, that is if the offer for an interview is still open? And I'll take those remaining," he looked at his watch, "Nineteen minutes if you are still up for a chat?"

"You'd understand if I said no right?" 

"Absolutely. But I can guarantee you that I don't have a preset agenda. I will actually have to go back and research everything I overheard because I'm not familiar with the story at all. But what I did hear seems like it might make an interesting piece.  And as I'm now working for The Insider I think we have a good line on a follow up." He held his hand out to Cassidy, "Franklin Roth, how do you do?"

"Cassidy Paisley. And I'm sorry but I have no desire to speak to anyone from The Insider ever again. And as of tonight no one from The Gazette either."

"I can see that, it seems as though you were misquoted before. Is that what I heard? How about I make you a spectacular deal. You get to read my piece before I submit it to my editor, if you think it's a misrepresentation of facts you get to kill the story."

"I can read it before you send it to your editor, I give you approval to run the story and then she cuts and pastes my quotes in to something else entirely and you run the whole thing as the authorized story? Is that the deal?"

Franklin laughed, "Well, that's a really good and tricky idea but no. I tell you what, I'm going to leave you my card and you take a day to research me and then get back to me. I think what you will see is, and I know this sounds like bragging, but that's only because it is, I am not someone who has their stories reworked by editors. And just as a show of good faith, I'll still pay your tab."

After settling up with Franklin Gary came down the bar to talk with Cassidy.

"You know in a romance novel you and Sam would have hit it off and ended up running the world's most romantic restaurant right? Instead you end up piquing the interest of Franklin Roth. Only you."

"Wait, you know who he is?"

Gary laughed, "Only you wouldn't." he pulled is phone out and did a quick search before handing it over to Cassidy.

"Pulitzer prize winner Franklin Roth takes the reigns of The Insider. What does this mean for the competition?" 

"Oh, so he's the real deal?"

"The realest." Gary took his phone back, "So what are you going to do?"

Food for the Soul....

Cassidy noticed the man smiling at her from the other end of the bar. She knew what to expect by the twinkle in his eye as he walked towards her.

"Cassidy Paisley?"

"Yes, that's me." Now to see if he was a fan, a fanatic or a reporter looking for a human interest piece.

"So, any big holiday plans?" Well that was at least a slightly clever lead line.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Cassidy motioned toward Gary for another round.

"Sam Carlisle, The Gazette." Ah, well, reporter it was then.

"Cassidy Paisley, but you already knew that. Stalking or just lucky?" She gave him her patient smile.

"A little of both. A friend told me you like to come here after work to unwind. I tried contacting you through the restaurant but...." He trailed off. She knew exactly what had happened. This time of year her staff screened her calls quite thoroughly. Anyone wanting to talk about her unique reputation had their message put in a giant round file by the compost bin.

"And so you thought you'd just take it upon yourself to show up here?"

Gary came over with Cassidy's drink, "You okay?"

Cassidy gave Gary the real smile, "I'm fine, thanks. It's the time of year for it right? I'll let you know if I need any help though."

Gary gave Sam a cold look, "You do that." He put back on his bartender welcoming face and turned to the crowd doing shots at the end of the bar.

"Seems as though I'm not really popular tonight."

"You ambushed me in my favorite bar. What did you expect?"

"Okay, we've gotten off on the wrong foot. You know why I'm here. Like you said, it's that time of year. It would be a great story for me to get. And a good follow up for you. What do you say?"

Cassidy thought about it. He was going to write something anyway, they always did. What harm would giving a few fresh quotes really do? Maybe if she did speak to this guy the rest of them would see it wasn't really all that interesting after all and leave her alone.

"You know what? Fine. You've got 30 minutes and you're paying my tab. Make the most of it."

"Wow. Okay, I have to say I'm a little shocked. Everyone I've spoken with has said you don't give interviews. I wasn't really expecting you to agree."

Cassidy looked at her watch, "Twenty nine."

"So how long have you hated love?"

Cassidy laughed, "Well, I can see how this is going to go."

Five years ago Cassidy had given an interview for a food reporter on up and coming new restaurants. Cassidy's had been open for almost a year at that point and was getting quite the reputation around town. She was really proud of her place and thrilled to be featured in the piece. When the reporter had asked what special plans they had for Valentine's Day Cassidy had answered honestly, and that's when the trouble began.

Here's how it happened....

I needed to run a few errands today.

It was cold outside. Much worse than I thought it would be.

I knew it was going to be chilly so I was prepared for that, but it was really cold.

When I went to get dressed I realized I didn't have any clean jeans so I did a load of laundry.

That's when I noticed that we were almost out of laundry soap and I needed to add that to the list.

I keep a list of things we need on my phone. That way I always have it with me when I am out running errands. Like what I needed to do today.

When I went to add the soap to my list I couldn't find my phone. I had it this morning when I came home from the gym so I knew it was in the house someplace.

I remembered I was listening to some music while I showered. It was probably in the bathroom.

Yep. Right there on the counter. Then I saw I missed a call. It was a reminder for an appointment I have tomorrow.

I was glad they called because it is a half hour later than I was thinking it was so I had to double check my calendar to make sure I had the right time listed there.

I did. Which is great because now I can actually get some things done in the morning I didn't think I would.

Like paint. Then I thought, I wonder if I really need to paint the wall again, or if it's okay.

I went to the living room to take a look at what I had worked on yesterday.

I got out the small paint brush and touched up a seam but other than that I think it will be okay so I decided to just leave it be.

I still needed to bring in the beige and the white for the baseboards and study wall touch ups. So I closed up the grays and decided to take them down to the garage.

I decided I could just take them down as I headed out to run some errands. Bingo!

And that's how I ended up at the grocery story without any pants on.

It's much colder outside than I was expecting....

Unraveled...

It was the music that should have tipped her off.

"Just an old-fashioned love song, one I'm sure they wrote for you and me" she looked around to see who was playing their radio and the music faded away. How odd. She tried to remember the rest of the song, how did it go again? She should know it. She used to know it. They had danced to it at that street fair when they first started dating. It was just so goofy and fun and it became one of their songs. Why couldn't she think of how it went anymore? She tried to hum the part she had just heard and it was gone now as well.

A few weeks later she was looking through pictures from Jamie's going away party. She had been traveling for work and hadn't been able to make it. Clicking through the album smiling at seeing all of her friends having a great time and wishing Jamie well for his next adventure she was surprised to see a picture of her ex. There he was, one arm around Jamie and one arm around a woman she had never seen before. He hadn't even liked Jamie when they first started dating. Said he was pretentious. Now here he was cozied up to him at a party? She read the comments, they were going camping together before he left? What? As she started to click through more pictures she realized that she wasn't able to pull the names of the people that were there without looking at the tags on the picture. Eventually she stopped looking when she realized she didn't know anyone.

That weekend she went for a hike to clear her head. She had been feeling more and more foggy lately. Some time outdoors would help she was sure of it. She crested the hill and saw her spot. There was a small clearing at the top of the hill, she had found it when she was a kid. Used to hike up here with her dad for picnics. She had only brought two other people here ever. It was her place. As she sat down to contemplate her place in the world something shiny caught her eye. It was an earring. She picked it up and something about it was familiar. A picture flashed in her mind and then faded. A woman she didn't know with people she thought she should know but couldn't place. She put the earring back down. Maybe who ever lost it would come looking for it again. She got up to hike back to her car thinking, this was a nice spot. I should try and remember it and come back sometime.

Out with friends for drinks when her girlfriend handed her a phone showing an open Facebook page. A picture of her ex out to dinner with the woman from the picture. "Isn't that your cousin's place?" She looked at the picture, "It is. Great food." then she read the caption, "Good for the body, good for the soul." That's when she felt the tug. Really paid attention. "I need to go."

Driving home she tried to remember the song, the party, the view, the restaurant, how many times he had told her that she was good for his soul. The memories had to be there somewhere. There was a song. She knew there was a song, what was it? The people in the pictures, they were friends, right? Who were they? This couldn't really be happening right? He wouldn't be doing this. Couldn't be.

She hit the door to the house and started running upstairs. "Well I've been afraid of changing cause I built my life around you..." bursting in to the attic she saw the tapestry hanging where she had stored it. Or at least she saw what was left of it. Threads had been pulled out. So many that it was unraveling.  She followed a loose thread, a memory of a moment, walked along with it remembering, and then it wasn't hers anymore. It changed. He was still there but he had changed the color of the thread. Moving her out and someone else in. Weaving a new tapestry using her threads.

She sat back and looked at the ruins of her once beautiful tapestry. How many pieces could he take before she ceased to exist? Could he really just weave her out of her own memories? She looked around her attic once more at the things she had up there. The tapestry that she had made with her father. The colorful one with the glitter string she and her mother had made together. The first one she had tried to weave with her high school boyfriend. If it was on Etsy they would call that one artisanal. But it really was a hot mess. She looked at how they were all joined. The threads they had in common, the ones that belonged only in one piece.

"Time makes you bolder, even children get older..."

The music got louder.

She picked up a pair of scissors and cut the loose threads.

Job Fair...

A long time ago, long before there was a you or a me or even a thought of an us they were here. And they were creating things. The basic things that we take for granted every day. The very fabric that weaves us together as a society. They made those things. And they never get any credit. It's a shame really, but they like it that way. They like us to think we came up with all of these things on our own. It makes the rest of their jobs easier. In fact I think making us believe we made it all is one of their jobs...but that's not the story I want to tell today. Today I will tell the story of the beginning. The start of all of this.

The lesser demons had gathered for their final interviews. The tests had been completed. The resumes had been read and polished. The first round of questions had been answered, "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" "What would you say is your weakest trait?" (You had always suspected job interviews were a thing from demons, now you know) Now it was time for the last round. Job placement would now be decided. 

The ancient ones looked around the room and asked the final question. "What is the greatest punishment you could give to man?"

Smiles lit up the room. This is what they had all been waiting for. What they had practiced for. What they had dreamed of. Now they could shine. One by one they stood and walked in to the private offices to give their answer.

"Bamboo under the fingernails. Slowly. Then soaking them in lemon juice."

note were taken:

(effective but rudimentary)

"I would slowly drive them mad with songs they could not get out of their heads. I would call it an ear-worm so they could have the vision of a parasite slowly eating their brains as they hummed, 'Hey Macarena!'"

(inventive, diabolical, order extra copies of Hey Macarena! in a few thousand years when it is released)

"I would add cars to the road at random times of the day. Traffic jams at 2 on a Tuesday."

(we can work with this, expand on the idea. get on inventing the wheel quickly so we can work to this point)

Answers came and jobs were assigned. Big and small jobs. You will work on clothing sizes, you will work on shoes that won't stay tied, you will be in politics, you will work on network TV. Finally the last interviewee walked through the door. He brought with him one of the ancient ones. Demon or angel it is sometimes hard to tell with the old ones.

"What is the greatest punishment you could give to man?"

"I have more than one answer. It depends on the man, you see."

"Then give me your top line."

"I would give them love."

(love? did he come in the wrong door?)

"Unrequited love. Love that leaves. Love that is replaced or misplaced. And for the worst of them I would let them watch the person they love fall in love with someone else."

The room fell silent. Now this was genius. They could start now. No waiting. They wouldn't have to stop when technology moved forward. This was an all time great. They had even stopped taking notes as the ideas were flowing too fast and furious to keep up.

"Yes, I see. Brilliant. I don't think we need to hear anymore. You have earned this."

And with that the bow and arrow was handed over.

"Be careful. You know each tip is coated with poison."

Cupid smiled, his rows of razor sharp teeth glinting. The scaly wings on his back vibrating with pleasure.

One of the ancients waved to the demon (angel?) next to Cupid, "Why did you accompany him?"

Cupid bowed to his elder and took a step back so the old one could take the stage, "I will work with him."

"You? But how?"

"Not every arrow in that quiver will bring pain and longing. Sometimes it will be true and ever lasting joy. Sometimes the love will be returned."

Great booming laughter filled the room, (I call it laughter because that is the closest I have to describe it, but if you were to hear it? It would have driven you mad.) nods and smiles were shared. And it was agreed that they would work together from that day on. 

"Ah, Hope, you are the worst of us!"

Call the crew...

She was curled up on the couch reading while her son worked on his homework at the kitchen table. She glanced up to see how he was doing and saw a group of boys playing catch out on the lawn.

"That looks just like Bobby Giles." she thought. But Bobby would have to be almost 50 by now.

She put down the crochet piece she was working on and got up from the chair, "Hey, do you see that?" she said to her mother who was sitting at the kitchen table working on a jigsaw puzzle.

Wait, was that right? She looked out the window again and it had started to snow. Big fat flakes drifting down and covering the rose garden with a fine layer of leaves, golden in the fall sunlight. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and turned away from the window.

"I'm going to my room for a minute," she said but no one was there.

When she passed her sister on the stairs she realized she needed to make a call. "It's your turn to do the dishes," her sister sneered at her. She snapped back; "It's not, I did them yesterday. You just want to sneak out and hit the racetrack early." Her brother shrugged, it was the truth after all.

Yes, definitely need to make a call.

Opening the attic door she wasn't exactly surprised that there was a mess there, but she was surprised by the amount of mess. There were papers strewn everywhere and trail of sawdust on the floor.

"No! Oh no, oh no, oh no!" She was panicking now as she raced to the closet at the far end of the attic. The one that had to remain locked. Had to.

The door stood open. The box, THE box was laying on the floor. The top broken. Sawdust in a pile. Broken pieces on the hardwood floor. She picked up two halves and tried to see if they could be pieced back together, but there was a sliver missing now. It would never fix exactly right. She set the box back upright and started to see if any of the fragile things had survived the fall.

"Excuse me? Ma'am? We got a call to come to this address? I'm assuming that's you?"

She turned around, oh good the crew was here. Waving her arms around the attic in a helpless gesture she said, "I don't know what happened. But..." she trailed off, it didn't matter, the cleaning crew was there. Sorting and refiling. Tossing the broken things. "Oh no, I need that!" she would shout as they would hold up an obviously ruined item. "Do you really?"

"I guess not."

Hours passed. Finally a cry of triumph came from the back of the room. "Found it!" She looked over and one of the crew was holding up a football. "Looks like it came in through that window and knocked over the cage there. Once they were loose it was game over."

She looked at the cage. Oh yes, them. Anytime they got loose they did make a mess of things. The crew was busy wrangling them all up. "Careful, they bite."

One of the crew held up a hand with a dark black furry shape holding on to a finger by it's sharp fangs, "It's okay, we have gloves." He shook it off and locked the cage again.

"Should you just get rid of those as well?" She asked hopefully.

"Sorry, lady, you know we can't do that. We're just here to clean up the mess, you have to take care of the rest."

She went to the cage to count. One, two, three, four...there was one missing still. She knew leaving it out was a bad idea. You had to get them all under control at once or one day you open the attic door and well...this.

"There's one missing."

"Did you check your pockets?"

Oh, right. She put her hand in her pocket and felt it there. She pulled it out carefully and looked at it in the light. "I wonder how it got there."

"Probably snuck up on you when you weren't paying attention. They do that. Here drop it in quickly."

All five locked back away. Now curled around each other sleeping peacefully. Worn out from the damage they had done.

The crew was finished. Everything tidied back up. Things put back to right. Some old things tossed. Some ruined things never to be seen again.

"Did you want us to clear out these broken pieces?" The head of the crew was vacuuming up the spilled sawdust.

"Not just yet. Even the broken pieces are something to look at right?"

She put them back in the box and added a layer of bubble wrap this time. Maybe that would keep them safer. She set the box on the high shelf and closed the door.

"Keeping them on the high shelf isn't the best place for the fragile items, Ma'am."

"It's not is it?"

She locked the door and turned away from the closet.

"Thank you for calling Viking Cleaners, your protection is our business."

The alarm went off and she rolled over to start her day. "Thank you...." she mumbled.

Her husband gave her a sleepy smile, "You're welcome?"