Triangles, Part Twenty-One

“Cass,” he sighed as he picked up his pace. He reached the top of the stairs just as the chorus restarted. Ignoring the twinge of pain, Lee dropped his bag and grabbed his phone in the same motion, flipping it open with his thumb as he brought it to his ear.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly drawled into the phone, “Yes?”

“Hey, hun,” Cass’ ever buoyant personality bounced into the room with her voice. “Did you get my message?”

“Uh…” Lee glanced guiltily over his shoulder towards the stairs. “No, I just got home.”

“Uh-huh,” Cass prodded knowingly. “You were going to ignore it, weren’t you?”

“Well,” Lee squirmed, “only for tonight. I figured it wasn’t too important if it was on the home phone. The session with D.J. lasted longer than I expected and then Rollin called just as I was walking in the door.”

“Right,” Cass agreed with sarcastic cheerfulness. “Who?”

“The intern.”

“Oh. Right.” Cass paused as if Lee had almost, almost derailed her from her original reason for calling. Finally, she continued, “Well, it’s not an emergency, but it is important. So, let me save you the effort of going back downstairs to check the message.”

Lee’s eyes widened then darted around the room, settling suspiciously on the large windows across the vaulted ceiling from his loft railing. How does she do that? There was nothing – and no one – out there. “Okay,” he answered, drawing the word out into something of an uncertain question. Cass giggled.

“Just as I was leaving this evening, Stacey called to inform us that the piece Smith interviewed you for will be airing on Friday. It’s going to be one of the local features for the Six O’clock News.”

“Oh, goodie,” Lee could barely disguise the sarcasm. “Lemme go set the DVR.”

Cass snickered at his response. As much as she knew he loved telling stories, she also knew he didn’t like attention focused on his personal life. “Also,” she continued after a moment, “Since you’re not going to be in the office for the rest of the week, I’m going to need you to email me a copy of the budget for the movie. Stacey says there’s a problem and we need to resubmit it.”

Gods, what else? Lee groaned. “Cass, that’s on the office machine.”

“Of course,” Cass sighed. The phone squeaked as if she were adjusting the phone, or moving it to her other ear. “Okay,” she began, once the peculiar noises had ceased, “which account did you put it under?”

“Silver line,” he told her, trying hard to tamp down on the embarrassment of having to give out the computer account name he had created for this project. “It’s all one word.”

“Okay…” Lee could hear the scratch of a pencil on paper. When the writing stopped, she continued, “Got it. Password?”

“The usual.”

“The usual?” Cass challenged, her voice rising a full octave with her incredulity. “Lee!”

“What?” he replied defensively. “You know I suck at remembering passwords.”

“Lee,” she admonished him, her voice still almost a squeal. “This is the most important project you’ve had since I’ve known you. If someone broke into that account you could lose a lot more than just a couple of production files.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lee sighed.

“Lee, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He drew a long breath then continued, “Tell me how this is worse than me writing down a new password just for this project.” Cass huffed her exasperation, but didn’t reply.

“Knowing my luck,” he informed her, “I’d lose the damned piece of paper I’d written it on and then be locked out of all my files. Meanwhile, someone else would find the paper and gain access, thus defeating the point of having a separate password anyhow.”

Cass sighed. “Lee, you’re an intelligent man. I’m sure you could handle memorizing a new password for something this important.”

“Cass, the reason I went into directing instead of acting is because I suck at memorization. That’s why parts in the show are all ad libbed and not scripted.”

“But,” Cass countered, he voice dropping back somewhat to its usual timbre, “you can recite any number of tales from just about any culture I could think to name.”

“I retell stories,” Lee insisted. “I know the gist and the important concepts that were meant to be pass on. The rest is off the cuff and changes with each telling. Hell, half the time I don’t even have all of the proper character names in my telling.”

“If you say so.” It was obvious just by the way she said it, that Cass disagreed with Lee’s assessment of his abilities.

“I do,” he replied with a firm finality.

“Well, I think you could do it if you wanted to. You’ve been able to do everything I’ve ever seen you put your mind to.” Cass sighed. “But, I can see I’m not going to change your mind tonight.”

“Cass,” Lee persisted. “I have been using the same password for the last ten years without a problem. It’s a nonsense word and a series of numbers that have no direct connection to me. It’d be a disaster if I changed it now.”

“You’re a stubborn goat, you know that?”

Lee grinned into the phone. “Baa-aa-a.”

“Alright, alright,” Cass giggled. “I’ll get the budget from your machine tomorrow and pass it on to Stacey.”

“Okay,” Lee agreed. He knew she wasn’t done trying to convince him to change the password, but it seemed he had a reprieve for the night. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she replied cheerily. “Now, don’t forget to set the DVR.”

“So I can see just how bad a mood I was in when Stacey arrived and Leminski left,” Lee grumbled under his breath before answering aloud, “I won’t.”

“Good.” There was a pause afterwards and Lee was about to inquire whether the call had been dropped when Cass continued, “So, how bad did you get hurt?”

“What?” Lee asked, startled. His eyes narrowed as he squinted through the distant windows. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon now,” she chided him. “I know you. When you get stressed enough to want to fight, you go all out. And, get hurt.” Lee snorted. “Well?”

“Just the usual bumps and bruises,” he informed her. “No big deal.”

“And?” she insisted.

Lee sighed. “And… a sprained shoulder.”

“Just a sprain, huh?” Cass challenged. “It’s not a dislocation?”

“Nope. I just jammed it. There were no sickly pops.”

“Well, okay,” Cass relented, sounding only slightly mollified. “Is it going to give you a problem for tomorrow’s shoot?”

Lee frowned. He slowly lifted his left arm, judging the amount of swelling by how much resistance there was in the joint. He pulled his arm across his chest and then extended it fully to his side and tried to press backwards. He was stiff, but it didn’t seem too bad. “Nah,” he finally replied. “I should be fine.”

“Good. In that case, I’m going to let you go soak it for a while.”

Lee grinned. “Gee, thanks.”

Cass laughed. “You’re quite welcome,” she informed him. “Have a good night, Lee. And, good luck tomorrow.”

“G’night, Cass,” Lee managed to reply before the call had disconnected. He glanced at the phone curiously, his left brow crawling up his forehead. “That was weird,” he informed the empty room.

During the course of their call, Lee had been able to undress down to the t-shirt he’d come home from D.J.’s in and his boxer briefs. Now, he sat for a moment on the edge of his bed considering Cass’ suggestion that he soak the shoulder. He gingerly tested his shoulder again, this time pushing a little harder than he had while on the phone. It was stiff and it hurt to move it, but it didn’t seem especially bothersome. “It really isn’t that bad,” he proclaimed happily.

The soak, he decided, could be safely bypassed. “However,” he mumbled as he pulled open the drawer to his night stand, “A little icy hot as insurance never hurts.”

~Continued in [an error occurred while processing this directive] Part Twenty-Two~
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