Page 23 of Saltwater Memories
Chapter 8
The cake stared back at him from the conference room table, its white frosting stiff after being left out of the box for too long.
Balloons and sprinkles flanked the purple lettering, which oh-too-cheerfully spelled out, “Congratulations on Your Retirement Mike!”
Mike frowned. They’d insisted on getting him a cake, even though he told them that he didn’t like cake.
That wasn’t true, of course. He just didn’t likethiskind of cake. The frosting was too sweet; he could smell it from three feet away. It was too big and generic to be any good.
There was nocharacterto this cake, it was simply a casualty of mass production. It was a cake abomination, nothing like the expertly crafted cakes he’d gotten used to in the endless five star bakeries of the city.
Sheet cakes, they called them. As if asheetwas a good way to measure cake. Suitable to feed a pack of children at a birthday party and also, apparently, a band of bored office workers.
There were paper plates stacked next to the cake, mostly leftovers from other events. The majority were birthday plates, but there was one stack proudly proclaiming “It’s a boy!”
That, at least, made him laugh.
There was no use in avoiding this cake, or this party, any longer. As soon as people saw him walk into the conference room, they started to follow.
“Oh, it looks like you’re finally ready to party!” said Cindy, one of the administrative assistants.
Mike didn’t want to be rude. She clearly put some effort into putting all of this together for him. In fact, she’d probably put more thought into the entire thing than his boss did about his actual retirement.
“Thanks Cindy. This is great.”
She smiled. “I’m sure everyone will be in soon – I’ll send a reminder email. You can go ahead and start cutting pieces if you’d like!”
He smiled. “Sure.”
At least cutting the cake gave him something to do. He got to work, placing the square slices onto plates and arranging them neatly on the table.
His old boss, Lincoln, walked in and made a face. “Vanilla? I knew they didn’t like you, but come on.”
Mike chuckled. “Thanks for stopping by. I’m told that the other side is chocolate.”
“I’ll take one of those, then. Don’t tell my wife, she’s been on me about eating too much sugar.”
Mike cut into the other side of the cake; it was indeed chocolate. He cut Lincoln a big slice, and he accepted it with a wink.
Things had been much better under Lincoln, but it couldn’t last. Lincoln was too good, and too smart – he was pulled into a special project and one of Mike’s old coworkers got pushed into the supervisor position.
“Oh boy, is it too late for me to request extra balloons?”
Ned. There he was, as if on cue. Of course he was the sort of guy who would not-so-subtly demand extra sickeningly-sweet frosting.
“Hello Ned.”
“Mike, you’ve done excellent work here, but since I’m still your boss for the rest of the day, youhave togive me a cut of those balloons.” He let out a nervous laugh.
Mike never understood what that was – that forced giggle that Ned had. It was like a tic or something, he did it all the time.
It had never bothered Mike before; he just assumed that the guy was sort of a nerd, not cut out for fieldwork. He was odd, a bit awkward, and a bit younger than Mike. At first he wasn’t sure if Ned was just a product of his surroundings. Too much time on the computer, maybe? Mike didn’t hold it against him, even though he was annoying at times.
They didn’t see each other much, either. While Mike was building and supporting an undercover identity to befriend the Ukrainian mob, Ned was here, in the office, diligently working to kiss as many butts as he could.
He kissed butts all the way to the top.
“The balloons are yours,” Mike said, handing him a plate.
