One

Kian sighed and looked at the clock. 1.17. His interview was supposed to start almost 20 minutes ago, and he was not a person who liked to wait on others. Still, what else is one supposed to do in a waiting room? He sat in a plush, chocolate brown leather arm chair in front of a coffee table that was liberally scattered with women’s magazines and legal periodicals. The walls were oak-panelled, and rich velvet curtains were drawn back from expansive windows affording a marvellous view of the harbour. A secretary sat at a desk laden with computer hardware and various filing devices, typing idly into her keyboard. Behind her was a wooden door. The brass plaque in the centre read "Simon Tyler-Spence, Barrister and Solicitor"

Resigning himself to waiting, He picked a Cosmo from the table in front of him and glanced at the cover. "Drive him wild without touching his willy", the headline proclaimed - in hot pink block letters. The corners of Kian’s mouth turned up in amusement, and began flipping through the magazine. He soon found the start of the article. "Step one: talking dirty…".

Before he could delve further into the secrets of vocal eroticism, he was interrupted by the secretary.

"Mr Delaney? Mr Tyler-Spence will see you now". She gestured towards the door behind her.

"Thanks." He returned the Cosmo to the table and rose from his chair, walking over towards the door she had indicated. As he passed her desk, Kian noticed that she was checking out his ass from the corner of her eye. He grinned broadly, deep dimples appearing in his cheeks, and his pale green eyes sparkled. Always helpful to make a good impression on your prospective workmates. He opened the door and stepped into an office similar in style but even more opulent than the waiting room. Paintings and various diplomas decorated the walls, reinforcing Kian’s impression that the firm was run by people with new money who were trying very hard to make it look old.. Large golden frames, bold paintings, and the purple velvet of the curtains were not his idea of class. Christ this is tacky, thought Kian, If you want to age your money, mate, rub some antiquing wax on a twenty. On a large padded chair in the behind a desk - yet more oak - sat a slightly chubby, balding man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties. He rose from his massive desk and met Kian in front of it, shaking his hand firmly.

"Ah, Mr Delaney… Kiannen, isn’t it? Please take a seat." He indicated a leather swivel chair, and then seated himself in the chair Kian had seen him in before. Kian followed his lead and sat.

"Thank you, Mr Tyler-Spence. And it’s Kian, please. No one except my mother has called me Kiannen for about fifteen years." This preference had, of course, been noted in his CV, which it appeared the oh-so-busy Mr Tyler Spence had not read too carefully.

"Oh, right, of course," he said, absentmindedly. "Now, let’s get on with the interview, shall we? To start with, you realise that this is only a short term research position. The applicants we usually have for jobs like this tend to be much older than you. Why is a young man such as yourself not looking for more long-term employment?"

"Well, in short, I want to enter the diplomatic core. As you will have seen from my CV," If you’d read it, you lazy bastard, "I have a double degree in both arts and law, and I just finished my honours year in Anthropology. To be even considered for an interview, you need a postgraduate degree, and preferably another undergraduate one along with it. Law is also an advantage. So I’m starting a Masters in Social Anthropology next year, and money is very short at the moment. I’m hoping to save enough over the next six months so I don’t have to get a loan next year."

"Very interesting, Kiannen. But if the law is not your priority, could you give me a reason why we should hire you over the other, committed applicants we have had? Tyler-Spence Deckard may not be the largest law firm around, but we are well regarded, and have certain standards to maintain." Kian, you fucker, my name is Kian. I just told you a minute ago.

"Because I’m good at this. Very good. If you look at my law grades, you will see that I got one B+, and everything else was A- or better. This isn’t a litigation position, its for a research assistant. What you need is someone who is thorough, accurate, and persistent enough to find out what needs to be found, no matter how many cases, textbooks and commentaries need to be found. For that, a background in the arts is an advantage, not a liability. I am used to searching through libraries for days looking for useful information on the courtship rituals of Papua New Guinean tribes. I know how to reference it when I do find it, and how to collate the information. I can do this very well, Mr Tyler-Spence."

"An interesting answer, and it may well be accurate. One could say it was arrogant, even. You’re not full of yourself, are you, Mr Delaney? We like all our employees to get along and, well, when one gets above themselves it causes friction. If we hire you, you will avoid friction, won’t you?"

There was a slight curl to Tyler-Spence’s lip, and a hardness in his eyes. Kian could tell the lawyer was beginning to dislike him. Shit. Damage control mode. He chuckled softly and flashed a winning smile across the desk, dimples once again leaping into life.

"Oh no sir, no friction from me, and no arrogance either. I simply know what I am good at, and I know what I’m not so, too. I can’t cook: my idea of gourmet food is spaghetti on toast. I’m a fair squash player, and appalling at every other sport. And while I get on well enough in small groups, large crowds really upset me. I know my limits, and I don’t try to go outside them. And if you would look at the reference from Hobb & Irvine, you will see that I caused them no trouble." Kian’s smile widened as he noticed a glint of amusement and maybe even some respect replace the displeasure in Tyler-Spence’s eyes.

"Well that is good to know, indeed. You clerked for them over summer what, in 2000?"

"Yes, almost 3 years ago now."

Tyler-Spence shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk, extracting the reference Kian had mentioned, and began reading it. Ha! Knew the bastard hadn’t read it. Well, just sit there and look pretty, while he reads, Kian. If your qualifications don’t impress him, maybe your mug will. And whatever you do, don’t start swivelling on that chair. Kian took his own advice and sat patiently, waiting for his interviewer to finish reading.

"Hmmm… impressive, Mr Delaney. You seem to have made a very favourable impression on them."

"I had an enjoyable time there. And the work I did was mostly research, similar to what is required for this position."

"Yes, so I see." Tyler-Spence leaned back in his chair, his manner suddenly more relaxed. "I think that’s all I need to hear, thank you, Mr Delaney. It has been a most interesting conversation. Would you perhaps care for a little brandy before you go?"

"Thank you sir, don’t mind if I do."

Tyler-Spence produced two brandy balloons from somewhere under his desk, then reached for the two crystal decanters in front of him, both filled with amber liquid. He trailed his had along one before settling on the other and removing the stopped. Kian noticed the gesture, and had to hold back a snort while Tyler-Spence filled the glasses. I’m sure the other one was the good stuff. It seems I don’t rate high enough for that.

"The décor in here is very striking, Mr Tyler-Spence," said Kian, sipping idly at his drink. "Who was your decorator?"

"Why thank you Kiannen. The whole office was designed by my wife, very gifted, don’t you think?"

"Oh yes indeed, sir. It feels very much like a Victorian drawing room." Victorian brothel, more like.

He saw a slight frown cross the face of his prospective employer. "Well, the it was actually designed as a cross between Queen Anne and neo-classical, but I could see how a layman could confuse it with Victorian."

Kian smiled depreciatingly. "I never claimed to be an expert, sir, and the fact remains, this room is… unique."

The two men chatted idly for several more minutes, discussing such earth-shaking topics as the weather and the latest sports results. Soon both had finished their drinks, and after a glancing at his watch, Tyler-Spence cleared his throat and said, "Well, I have another appointment in a few minutes, so unless you have any questions...?"

"No, thank you, sir, I think I know as much as I need to"

"Well then, thank you very much for coming in, Mr Delaney. It was a pleasure talking to you, and you’ll hear from us within a week about the position." Both stood, and shook hands across the desk.

"Thanks again sir, I look forward to hearing from you". They walked over to the door together, Tyler-Spence opening it for the younger man.

"Goodbye, Mr Delaney."

As the office door closed behind him, he noticed the secretary was looking again… this time at the other side. Lets give her a thrill, shall we? He idly scratched his crotch, noting with amusement that her eyes widened. He nodded politely at her, and walked to the lift. As he waited for the car to reach his floor, he untucked his shirt and stretched his arms up over his head, exposing 3 or 4 inches of very flat, milky stomach to public view. The secretary’s eyes widened even further, looking in danger of escaping from their sockets. He finally met her gaze, and, as the lift door opened, grinned broadly and winked at her. She flushed red with embarrassment, and began to examine the papers on her desk very closely. As the lift doors closed, she heard a rich, deep voice say, "Hope to see you in a couple of weeks, madam." Despite herself, she smiled. Life at Tyler-Spence Deckard would be much more interesting if that man started working there.

"Geez, man, if he’s that much of a wanker then why the fuck do you want to work there?"

Kian laughed and threw a cushion across the room striking the short, brown-haired man who had just spoken. Kian and Callum had been friends since their first year of high school, and Banter like this had been exchanged between the two for the better part of ten years. Kian had just finished telling him about his interview as the two ate dinner and watched TV in the lounge of the flat they shared.

"Because, my foolish friend, despite their total lack of taste, the wonderful Moinsieurs Tyler-Spence and Deckard are loaded. They were offering the best pay rate of any of the places I’ve applied at, and I need the money. Besides, the secretary was fun to flirt with."

"Ooo, Hot secretary! Well, I hope you get the job then. I’ll definitely have to come visit you… and your co-workers, of course." Callum smiled lewdly and wiggled his eyebrows in a manner that was supposed to be suggestive. "No woman can resist the charms of Callum Green!"

Kian gave his friend a long, hard look. "Where do I start? First up, do you want me to bring up that incident with Suzie Feltham and the roast pumpkin at the Senior ball? And regardless, how many of your girlfriends have you ever got more than a kiss out of? And how many have you been with for longer than a month?"

"Ummm… no, I do NOT want you to bring up the pumpkin sandwich, it makes me cringe just thinking about it. And as for the other," he said, grinning even more lewdly, "I don’t kiss and tell."

"Bollocks! You always blab to everyone you know when you get any sort of reaction from a chick. You kiss and tell every time! Now, doing anything else and telling would be a problem, since I would bet a lot on the fact that you’ve never done ‘anything else’." Kian ducked as the cushion he had thrown previously was returned to him with considerable force. He managed to avoid the missile, but in doing so sent his dinner plate flying off the couch and on to the floor, spilling the small amount of bolognaise sauce and spaghetti that he hadn’t eaten.

"Thank God for plastic plates and tile floors," said Callum, raising his hands above his head and looking upward with an absurd expression of reverence on his face. "An absolute must for those with un-co flatmates."

Kian lifted his long frame off the couch and lazily walked over to the kitchen. "Again you tempt me!" He said over his shoulder, raising his voice so Callum could here him in the lounge, "One more crack out of you and I am going to type up a full account of the pumpkin sandwich and leave it as the screensaver on your computer. And you know I will." A few seconds later he emerged from the kitchen with a handful of paper towels to find Callum standing in a theatrical pose on the rather ratty, brown armchair he had been sitting in. Kian rolled his eyes and began to wipe up the bolognaise mess from the floor.

"Awww," said Callum, pouting, "Aren’t you gonna watch? I was about to do my ‘No! God no! Anything but that! I’ll do anything’ speech. Fine audience you are, bit…shit!" He was cut off mid tirade by the chair he was perched on tipping slowly over backwards, taking Callum with it. Kian looked up from his wiping, glanced at the toppled chair and the rumpled form of his flatmate, sprawled on his back next to it. For a moment there was utter silence. Then Callum started laughing, a stuttering giggle which was quickly joined by Kian’s deep chuckle.

"Oh, geez Cal! Life with you is never dull. Its moments like these that remind me why I room with you." He really is a good friend. Kian thought, and a whole heap of fun. I just wish I could bring myself to trust him.

Callum sat up, grinning. "Yeah, well, I try. Even with as unappreciative an audience as you, as I was saying before the chair so rudely interrupted me." He stood and righted the offending chair while Kian took the dirty paper towels out to the kitchen and threw them in the bin. Returning, he flopped back onto the couch.

"So, what you wanna do tonight?" Kian asked.

"Umm… I need to use the net for a bit, but apart from that, is there anything good on TV?"

Kian groped around blindly on the floor, pulling the TV guide towards him, then picked it up and flicked to Wednesday night. Oooo, Baywatch repeats: topless eye candy. But do I want theatre boy chewing me out for watching ‘trash’ like that? No. "Naaah, nothing worthwhile. How bout we play Heroes 3 on your computer until my download is finished. Then you can surf for porn or whatever you wanted the net for, and I’ll just read or something."

"Sounds cool. You go grab us a couple of beers, and I’ll boot it up." Callum headed down the hallway and into his room, while Kian went into the kitchen again and, fighting through a crowd of leftovers and half-empty tins, found 2 beers and took them from the fridge. He then went down the hall and ducked into his room. He took the chair from his desk and dragged it behind him into Cal’s bedroom, where his flatmate was seated at his computer, waiting for the game to load. He put the beers on the computer desk then shunted his chair in next to Callum’s, knocking the foot of the bed as he did so. Cal glared at him.

"Be careful with that, bitch! Your room might look like a dump, but I actually take pride in my surroundings." Callum fancied himself a style guru. His room was a pastel green, accenting with bands of forest green where the walls joined the floor and ceiling. The queen-sized bed was spread with a duvet of the same two colours. The furniture consisted of a small bookshelf in one corner, the computer desk and chair, and a very large wardrobe across one wall. He had a lot of clothes.

"Oh sorry, M’lord. I know how much time and effort you’ve put into your room. With what you spent on painting this place and on the contents of your wardrobe, you could be living in a penthouse. Anyway, it’s loaded. Which scenario you want to play?"

"How bout ‘Titan’s winter’?"

"Yeah, that one’s ok. I’ll be a necromancer."

"K. I think I’ll take the knight. How bout 3 computer players?"

Kian and Callum waited for the scenario to load, then began to play. Three hours of pointing, clicking, and killing followed, with the two humans quickly dominating the moronic artificial intelligence players. The gaming was broken periodically by one or other of them going to the kitchen for more beer, and Kian checking on the download in progress on his computer. After returning from another trip to his room, Kian sat back down and, while Cal hit Enter to end his turn said, "It’ll be finished in a couple minutes, man, so I’ll just save it at the end of my this turn, then you can download your nudie pics."

"Whatever, Kian. I actually wanna get a few eighties cheese songs. I was at a party at Phil’s in the weekend, and, well, you know him, all the music was total one hit wonder stuff from the eighties. Some of it was kinda cool, so I thought I’d have a look for it. Its not urgent, really, so we can keep playing if ya want."

"Naaah, download your cheese now. I don’t want you nagging me to use the net tomorrow. We can finish this game later, and I got a book from the library yesterday that I want to get into. Just let me beat the crap out of the iron golems, then I’ll go disconnect, and its all yours." Kian easily dispatched the group of enemies, saved the game, then quit. "Gimme a couple of secs and then you can log on." He walked across the hallway to his room and bent over his computer. Wiggling the mouse to wake up the monitor, he checked his download manager and, seeing that the download had completed, disconnected the modem. He was now the proud owner of an illicit pdf copy of The Wheel of Time, volumes 1-9. Took long enough. If Robert Jordan is paid by the word, he must be a very rich man. Putting his computer on standby, Kian picked up a hardback volume from the floor near his, and also tugged the frog-patterned quilt from his bed. Carrying the book in one hand and trailing the quilt behind him in the other, He returned to Callum’s room. "Its all yours, mate. Have fun."

"Cheers, man." He saw the book Kian was holding. "What you reading, anyway?"

"The History of the Siege of Lisbon, by Jose Saramago. English student friend of mine said it was really good. And really weird, too. In fact, a drama wank like you might like it. So feel free to have a read once I’ve finished."

"I might even take you up on that. But right now, I’m on the hunt for Spandau Ballet!"

Kian laughed loudly. "Have fun, man. And for God’s sake, if you insist on playing that, please, please use headphones." With that, he wandered into the lounge and lay down on the couch, spreading himself with his frog blanket. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Up popped a reality TV show. Oh joy. When cute fluffy bunnies go bad XXV. Why do they think people are interested in bad things that happen to other people? I have enough problems of my own. He hit the mute button and glanced at his watch. Half an hour till Baywatch. Might as well get started on the book. He opened the book and flicked through the pointless blank pages at the front until he found the start of the text. Propping himself up on one elbow and resting the book on the front of the couch, he began to read.

Paging through the opening of the novel, he soon became engrossed in the author’s world, his concentration broken only by occasional looks up at the screen. He continued reading until he noticed the hard, glistening flesh and unfeasible breasts of the Baywatch opening credits. Kian put the open book face down on the floor and turned up the sound. He smiled to himself. Christ, if anyone knew I watched this crap I’d never hear the end of it. The price of being seen as the uber-nerd, I guess. Settling back into the padding of the couch, he indulged in his secret shame.

For the next week, Kian lived the life of a student bum. Still waiting to hear back about his interview, he had little to do but eat, sleep, and fill in the time in between. His filling in mostly involved lazing around the flat: surfing the net, finishing his book, winning his game against Callum, and watching TV. The flat itself was a slightly run-down old wooden house nestled in the hills of a suburb closest to the city. White paint had begun to flake a little on the exterior, and the green of the front door was faded. Inside, it was slightly damp and cold, but the roof didn’t leak, and the drafts weren’t bad. The two bedrooms sported worn brown carpeting, while the lounge, kitchen and combined laundry / bathroom were floored with mottled white-and-black vinyl tiles. The height of luxury it was not, but it was cheap enough that an aspiring actor and a graduate student could afford the rent.

By the next Tuesday when the call came, Kian had begun to get nervous. Tyler-Spence had said he would hear back within a week. A week had almost, and no answer had been forthcoming. So it was that when the phone started ringing, Kian was sitting with it next to him, and he snatched it up after the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Yes, good morning. This is Laura Stockley from Tyler-Spence Deckard. May I speak to Mr Delaney, please."

"Speaking."

"Ah, good afternoon Mr Delaney. I’m calling on behalf of Mr Tyler-Spence to tell you that you have been given the legal research position you applied for. Mr Deckard, who will be directly responsible for you, and Mr Tyler-Spence would like to meet with you on Thursday to discuss the case that you will be doing most of your work on. You would start full time next Monday. How does that sound?"

Restraining a whoop of excitement, Kian replied "That sounds marvellous, thank you. What time on Thursday would they like to meet me?"

"This won’t be a formal meeting, and Mr Deckard suggested that it might be pleasant to discuss the issues over lunch. One O’clock, at Logan Brown. Is that convenient for you?"

"Oh, yes, certainly. I shall look forward to seeing them then."

"Excellent. Thank you, Mr Delaney, and I’m sure we will talk again soon."

"If you deliver news a good as this ever time we talk, I certainly hope we do," said Kian, a little ripple of laughter running through his voice, "And please tell Mr Deckard and Mr Tyler-Spence that I look forward to meeting them."

"I will. Goodbye, Mr Delaney."

"Goodbye, and thank you." Putting down the phone, He let loose the yell he had restrained earlier. "Cal! CAL! I got the fucking job." Kian ran from his room into the lounge, accosting his startled roommate as he came out of the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. Wrapping his arms around the shorter man, Kian lifted Callum off the ground in a back-breaking hug. "I got the job and I’ve got a lunch meeting with Tyler-Spence and Deckard on Thursday!"

"That’s great, Kian, really, but put Callum down now, OK?"

"Oh. Sorry dude." Kian hastily disengaged his arms and stepped back. "I’m just really excited. You know this means I wont have to get a loan this year, and at the rate they pay, we could even eat some nice stuff every so often."

"Well that I won’t object to. But I’m getting dinner ready with the not so nice stuff we have at the moment, so if you don’t mind, I’ll get on with it, and you can go enthuse to your pillow or something."

"Thanks for being so happy for me mate," he snapped, sarcastically, "but if you want me to leave you alone, then I will." He turned and made to stride out of the kitchen, when a hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. He spun back around to find his friend holding his arm and looking at him intently.

"Hey, Kian, I really am sorry," said Callum, softly, "Sometimes I can get a little out of hand with that smart-aleck crap. You know you can, too. I know how important it is to you, and I’m really glad you got it. If anyone deserves it, its you. But I am cooking dinner, and this does need to go in the oven. Tell ya what, you let me get on with this now, and I’ll help you pick out the clothes to wear to that lunch thing. It worked for the interview, maybe my style can impress them again."

"Thanks Cal. It really is nice to know you care, even if you’re shit at showing it. I don’t know what I’d do without you." Kian gave Cal’s arm a quick squeeze.

"Now you’re just embarrassing me. Out of my kitchen! Go on, out!" He made shooing gestures with his hands. "Oh, and lets both start praying now that everyone at that firm won’t be as big a dickhead as Tyler-Spud, or whatever."

A smile on his face and a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, Kian retreated to the couch in the lounge to watch TV while Callum began to cook his masterpiece. Lulled by the mindless drone of the television and the increasingly good smells coming from the kitchen, He began to get sleepy. Good food, good friend, new job, and a comfy couch. It can’t get much better than this., he thought as he hovered on the edge of consciousness, No sir, it can’t get much better than this.