Jacob's Ladder

With that, I turned and walked out the door. I could hear a wail of grief behind me. I knew she would get over it. I did. But It took almost eight years.

AFTER THE FALL

I assumed my role as President of Jackson Industries on my twenty-fifth birthday. It had been seven excruciating years of hard work. I had buried myself in the business. It helped me forget, or perhaps the proper term is, "mourn less."

My mom and sister dragged me to the fucking Gala. It was over my dead body. I was in a cheap suit. The sight of my beautiful Kate being escorted by some elegant dude in a tux, nearly killed me. Every time she glanced my way, she gave me a distraught look. Her conflict was obvious.

Fortunately, I was the walking dead and nothing hurts zombies.

Nonetheless, it was still tough when midnight rolled around and the only person I had to kiss was my sister. I averted my eyes from the painful exhibition of tongue swapping that was going on in other parts of the ballroom. Kate's dad had the kindness to cut me a sympathetic glance. All that did was make me feel worse.

The one thing that night DID teach me was that I could weather anything. It also ensured that it would be a very long time before I put my heart in the hands of a woman. I thought that losing my dad was tough. But, losing Kate was a whole different level of pain.

I would wake up and realize that; she wasn't there anymore!! Then the grief and longing would wash over me. I would mourn as I brushed my teeth. I would wrestle my feelings into a cage and leave for work. That was MY daily routine, rinse and repeat.

The patent on my circuit-board came through. The revenue from that little gadget would have funded a lot of drinking and pussy hunting. But instead, I spent fourteen-hours a day working. I eased up on weekends; I only put in ten hours. The work filled-up the emptiness of my loss. It wasn't obsession. A ninety-hour week kept me from thinking about Kate.

The trust matured on my twenty-fifth birthday and I was officially the new owner. William was still in charge. We had agreed that he would stay on until he was seventy, which was a couple of years up the road. In the meantime, I would spend my time in the DC space.

The company had grown a lot under William's steady hand. The growth was fueled by an aggressive expansion of our defense business. My assignment was to continue to develop that product line, so I relocated to DC in order to be close to our customer base.

I had a rental in Alexandria. It was a corner unit and incredibly expensive, but I was the fucking owner of the company; we could afford it. I was also away from home for the first time in my life; which to some extent exorcised the ghost of my former lover.

I settled in Alexandria for two reasons. The first, and most obvious one, was that it is the best place in the entire DC metroplex for a single guy to live. The other reason was the DC Metro. I could get to the King Street Station in five minutes; and I could get across the river to anywhere in DC in under an hour in rush-hour traffic.

Alexandria predates DC, as does Georgetown on the Maryland side. All the space in between those two old river towns was dismal swamp; until the Founding Fathers built DC there. In many respects, nothing's changed. Old Alexandria still looks like it did in Light Horse Harry Lee's day. In fact, his son, Robert E. Lee's, boyhood home was just down the street. And, DC is still a swamp.

I could have gotten much cheaper digs in Roslyn, or Arlington, and the nightlife is a lot hotter, but I was not a party animal. Instead, I preferred to while-away my after-work hours indulging my oyster and beer addiction at the Columbia Firehouse, over on St. Asaph.

When I got the urge to party, which was rare, I could walk up Duke, to the "Rock It" Grill, over on King. It provides pick-up service, both food and social. I had dated some in the seven years since Kate, mainly in the time after I arrived in DC, but there was no connection.

You are-what-you-are; based on what you've experienced up to that point. The problem was that all my experience, actually my entire world, was colored by my relationship with Kate. Once that connection was broken, I had to scramble to put together a new life plan.

I had to admit that Kate was right. Our childhood hang-ups, and sheer force of habit, had made each of us the other's primary emotional support. So, I would need a lot of seasoning if I EVER wanted to be an effective adult. Kate saw it before I did, because she had gotten out first.

Now, I knew that no sane person should EVER put their eggs in one basket. At least, they shouldn't unless they're certain that the basket is totally reliable. The problem was that we were eight. We had no point of reference; nothing to judge our actions by, so we just didn't know better. I hadn't learned how to successfully interact with another person; because Kate and I had been inseparable from the beginning. Thus, I had no social aptitude, let alone relationship skills.

I was not bad looking, well-dressed, tall and slim, and I was filthy rich. But, I was hopelessly tongue tied and bashful. Some women read my ineptitude as creepy. The others simply didn't know that I existed.

I had consciously avoided thoughts of Kate. It just hurt too much. Of course, my mother and sister felt like it was their sworn duty to fill me in on every bit of gossip about her. According to my sister, Kate was engaged to a hotshot doc up in Philly. That news killed any hope that we might reconcile; and it almost killed me. But, that was life. I straightened my shoulders and continued to march.

My primary job in DC was to "inform." Anyone who has ever worked that space knows that "informing" is the code word for lobbying. My job was to expand our footprint with the defense community, and the people who supported it in Congress. I knew my stuff; I already held four patents, but, I was impossibly young and it was hard to get meetings with the right people.

So, we hired a door opener. Wilkes was a guy who had been a Rep for a couple of terms. His job was to show me the ropes. He was middle-to-late-forties and had been a Congressional page before he went home to get elected. Ex-Reps don't have anything like the cushy deals that ex-Senators have, but anyone who spent time on the Ways and Means Committee had a profile in town, and Wilkes knew how to spread the wealth around.

I had a meeting with him at the Hawk 'n Dove, over on Pennsylvania. That's where the House Staffers hang out. If my guy had been a Senator. it would have been Charlie Palmer's, The Capital Grille, or the Monocle, and a whole lot more expensive.

The Hawk 'n Dove is like the Happy Hunting Ground, for women. You think of DC as a male dominated place; since all you ever see in the media are old white-boys wearing expensive rugs. But, DC has a voracious appetite for clericals, and women are the real power behind most of the thrones up on the Hill. So, the ratio of available women to men is closer to 2-1 in favor of the dudes.

Wilkes told me to meet him in the President's nook at the upstairs bar. It was a little quieter there. He had gotten me an appointment with the Chair of the House Energy and Commerce Committee and he wanted to brief me.

I had come into the Capitol South Metro Station on the Blue Line. It beat fighting DC traffic; even if you DO get a very up close and personal experience with all the other sardines in the can. Wilkes had been at the Department of Energy over on Independence and ridden down from the Smithsonian stop.

In the summer, the combination of heat and humidity in DC makes it one of the most uncomfortable places on the plant. Most days feel like you're living in downtown Bangkok. So, Wilkes was drenched when he arrived. The first thing he did was order a cold beer, He drained it and then ordered another. He was geeked.

Wilkes was a good-looking guy, smooth and sophisticated. While, I was a six-four, awkward nerd, unworldly as the day is long, and celibate for an entire election cycle. Our contrasts were obvious.He said, "Good news, Jake; I got the Undersecretary interested in your remote-terminal-unit interfaces. We're going to coordinate that with the Committee Chair tomorrow. I think we can get a big bucket of cash written into the Energy and Water Development Appropriation."

I said, "How much?"

Wilkes said, "Maybe as much as fifty million;" and grinned. No wonder; he was going to make a lot of money for that hookup. Of course, so was I.

Naturally, we would have to go through the bidding process. But, if the language happened to be written in such a way that it favored a little specialty manufacturing shop in eastern Pennsylvania; that would NOT be a coincidence.

I said, "What do you need me to do tomorrow?"

Wilkes proceeded to lay out the script. It was the standard DC shuffle, where we let the esteemed member of Congress know what we were going to do for him; without saying or doing anything indictable. Those guys start running for re-election the day after they're sworn in, and that takes money.

We were just finishing up when I heard an angelic southern voice say, "Who's this, Wilkes?" I looked up and an utterly stunning woman plopped down opposite me. Her face was perfect, heart shaped, high cheekbones, big blue eyes and a wide sensual mouth. All of that was framed by long, thick, silky, raven hair.

She had beauty that money DOES buy, perfectly made-up, coiffed, dressed, manicured and pedicured. With her dusky skin, bright-red lipstick and nails, she was a riot of colors. I also noted a trim athletic figure.

She looked across at me and said, "Why Wilkes, I do believe this boy is blushing!!"

She was right. The collision between her raging sexuality and my self-consciousness was generating a lot of heat, most of which was on my face. I gulped and looked down at the table, all thoughts of being a wealthy mover-and-shaker lost in my panicked reaction to the force of nature sitting opposite me.

Wilkes laughed and said good naturedly, "Jake's just bashful. I'm trying to make him into less of a geek." He turned to me and said, "Jake, this is Evangeline Q. She works at Cassidy."

That explained it. The goddess wasn't merely a lobbyist. She worked for one of the top K Street firms, so she was as smart and influential as she was beautiful. I was getting my voice back. I mumbled, "What does the Q stand for?"

She got an impish look and said, "Queneau." She pronounced it like "canoe." I understood why she stuck with the initial.

I said, "Evangeline, like in the Longfellow poem?" Yes folks, I had finally acquired some culture. After all, the only entertainment I had over the preceding seven years was reading.

She seemed impressed and said teasingly to Wilkes, "Oh, and he reads big-boy books, too."

I laughed and said, "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" This goddess had to be a Cajun. The black hair, the bright blue eyes and her delightful bayou accent were like a trademark.

She dimpled demurely and said, "Evangeline Belle Queneau at your service, kind sir. My friends call me Evie."

I said, "Can I call you Evie?"

She said coquettishly, "It depends. Do you WANT to be my friend?"

I gushed, "I've never MET a woman as beautiful as you." Shit!! That was suave.

Wilkes snickered and said, "Jake's social skills are a bit feeble, but he's a good businessman."

Evie's eyes flashed interest. She said, "What does the boy do?" That was addressed at me.

I said, "We design and build specialized controllers. They're used in a lot of different applications, both military and in the critical infrastructure. We're going to talk to some people on the Hill tomorrow."

Evie said to Wilkes, in her delightful bayou accent, "So, the boy is in sales?"

Wilkes laughed and said, "God no!! The boy owns the company!!!"

Evie looked incredulous and said, "Just how big IS this company?"

Wilkes smiled at her astonishment. I probably looked like I owned a paper-route. He said, "Tomorrow's meeting is for fifty-million but his company is a lot bigger than that."

Evie was gobsmacked. She said, "How in the world did THAT happen."

I tried to look humble. I said, "I did it the old-fashioned way. I inherited it. My pop is the real genius. But, he was taken from me far too early. I'm just trying to follow in his colossal footsteps."

We sat and talked for a while and then Evie stood. We stood, too. I couldn't help but scan her gorgeous supple body. When I looked back at her face she was smiling. I immediately averted my eyes, humiliated.

She said mockingly, "Like what you see?"

I blurted, "God yes!!! Can I see it again?"

She laughed, handed me a card, and added mischievously, "How could I resist an offer like THAT. Call me."

Then, Wilkes and I and every other male watched her sway out of the place, round little butt moving in one direction and her long beautiful raven hair moving in the other.

The next day, we had one of those kinds of meetings you dream about. It started out friendly and proceeded to love-in status. We had the best product. There was no doubt about that, but it wasn't the point of the meeting. Our willingness to play ball made us the apple of the good Congressman's eye, so we got a lucrative contact; and of course, he would get a sizable boost to his campaign war-chest.

The cab rank for the Rayburn Building is at the bottom of the long marble steps. There were a fantastic pair of legs sticking out of the first cab in line. The owner of those legs finished paying, slid out, and began to hurry up the steps. The legs, hips and bouncing boobs might have distracted me, but it was that stunning perfectly proportioned face with the huge blue eyes that had me captivated.

She nearly bumped into me. Running in five inch stilettos requires concentration and I was just standing there gawping at the perfection. She stopped, irritated, then she saw who it was and a huge lascivious grin spread over her face. She said, "So the boy's had his meeting?"

I said, "Yes, and now I can afford to buy a beautiful woman dinner at Marcel's. That is, IF she can spare the time."

Evie said, "Got a meeting with the House Republicans. Call me after 4 o'clock and we can arrange a time." Then she hurried up the steps trailing a cloud of perfume. The scent hearkened to wildly beating drums, bacchanalian fires and erotically cavorting savages. Her incredibly long legs and round hips disappeared into the door of the security checkpoint.

I was sitting at the wine bar when she arrived. There was a stirring among the sheep at the reception stand. I knew it was Evie. I dropped a fifty on the bar and walked around to where she had just entered. There were a couple of tourists snapping pictures of her. They probably thought she was famous. Evie IS that charismatic.

I had reserved one of the private dining areas. It was last minute, which required a $500-dollar emolument to the Maître'd benevolent fund, but I wanted to talk without being disturbed. I had a 2013 Far Niente Cabernet Sauvignon waiting for us; and YES, I had to look it up, but I didn't want her to think I was a total gomer. She sipped it and gave me an approving look.

She had changed into a tasteful little black dress with a delicate gold chain, which displayed a spectacular five-carat, diamond pendent nestled at the base of her throat. It was both classy and stunningly bold. Her long thick raven hair glistened. Her incredible bright blue eyes were full of life and intelligence.

She said teasingly, "So, did the boy do well today?"

I laughed and said, "Very well indeed. It looks like we are going to be on the Federal gravy train for some time to come."

She said amused, "That is a very well-appointed and luxurious train to be on."

I said, "Enough about me, tell me about yourself."

She looked surprised. It was like the guys she was normally with, said, "Enough about me. Now YOU can talk about me."

I learned that she was from Abbeville, which is in the heart of Acadiana and the seat of Vermilion Parrish. The residents are descendants of the Acadians from Nova Scotia, who were displaced there in the 1770s. Evie folks were Old-South planter stock, so she had the white-glove upbringing that all proper southern maidens get. That was until she hit the LSU campus.

She was a cheerleader there, and that inevitably led to Miss Louisiana. It was hard to keep Evie down on the farm after that. She went through a year of professional beauty pageants and decided that she didn't need college to be successful.

She unashamedly admitted that she was the 20-year-old mistress of a Louisiana politician who was three times her age, a fellow whose name I knew. The old goat brought her to DC where she learned the craft working under him, so-to-speak.

A woman with Evie's looks and personality wouldn't be anybody's mistress for long. She had already established her reputation as a beautiful woman; who could do what beautiful women do best, which is lead the Nation's power-brokers around by their genitals. Cassidy hired her and she had been working K Street for the past decade. She was 32, four years older than me, a powerful and totally free-spirited woman.

She was light years out of my league, but it was wonderful to be the envy of every man in the room, if only for one evening. After we finished dinner, she fixed me with those piercing blue eyes and said, "What is a beautiful boy like you doing without a woman in your life?" She was serious. It was like I puzzled her.

I had no reason to hold anything back and she seemed genuinely interested, so I told her about Kate. I told her how we had grown up together and how we had been soulmates from the third grade. I told her how we had given our virginity to each other and how I had expected to die in her arms.

Evie looked skeptical. She had a century of real-world wisdom packed into that gorgeous body. And, what I had just said sounded corny; even to me.

I told her about my dad's unexpected death and our family's decision to keep the business. I told her about the 90-hour work weeks getting up-to-speed and how that prevented me from having any kind of social life. I added, that it DID put me where I was, which was the owner of a very profitable firm.

Finally, I told her how I had lost Kate. I said, "It was inevitable. I knew that the world would steal her away from me. I just didn't expect it to be so soon. She had always been shy, but it was like she became a different person when she got to college."

Evie gave me one of those looks that was half disbelief and half sympathy and said, "If she was as beautiful as you say; she was gator-bait for every predator out there. My guess is that she was with somebody within a week after she arrived on campus."

Evie saw my skepticism and her eyes turned kindly. She said, "Maybe she lasted a couple of months. That is, if you were as close as you say you were. But, she was sleeping with the guy she showed up with, and that was a long time before New Year's."

That statement shot a thunderbolt of anger and jealousy through me, even after ten years. It was okay to lose Kate to cruel fate. It was something else to simply have her lie to me. I said angrily, "She assured me that she loved me. She said that I was the only boy she had ever been with."

Evie looked lovingly pained. Then she seemed to come to a decision. She said, "Come on boy, you need an attitude adjustment."

We cabbed to her place. It was a colonial-brick row-house on 27th; overlooking Rock Creek Park. Geez!! It probably only cost upwards of two, or three million. We walked up the federalist style steps to the entrance. She unlocked the door; which looked like she might have picked it up at Thomas Jefferson's estate sale.