Michael Crichton - Disclosure

"But to be honest-"

"It's not a matter of honesty," she said. "It's a matter of the underlying reality. Let's go over it, point by point. We've told them we have a Twinkle drive."

"Yes."

"We've built a prototype and tested the hell out of it."

"Yes."

"And the prototype works like gangbusters. It's twice as fast as the most advanced drives coming out of Japan."

"Yes."

"We've told them we're in production on the drive."

"Yes."

"Well, then," Meredith said, "we've told them all that anybody knows for sure, at this point. I'd say we are acting in good faith."

"Well, maybe, but I don't know if we can-"

"Tom." Meredith placed her hand on his arm. "I always liked your directness. I want you to know how much I appreciate your expertise and your frank approach to problems. All the more reason why I'm sure the Twinkle drive will get ironed out. We know that fundamentally it's a good product that performs as we say it does. Personally, I have complete confidence in it, and in your ability to make it work as planned. And I have no problem saying that at the meeting tomorrow." She paused, and looked intently at him. "Do you?"

Her face was very close to him, her lips half-parted. "Do I what?"

"Have a problem saying that at the meeting?"

Her eyes were light blue, almost gray. He had forgotten that, as he had forgotten how long her lashes were. Her hair fell softly around her face. Her lips were full. She had a dreamy look in her eyes. "No," he said. "I don't have a problem."

"Good. Then at least that settled." She smiled and held out her glass. "Do the honors again?"

"Sure."

He got up from the couch and went over to the wine. She watched him.

"I'm glad you haven't let yourself go, Tom. You work out?"

"Twice a week. How about you?"

"You always had a nice rush. Nice hard rush."

He turned. "Meredith…"

She giggled. "I'm sorry. I can't help it. We're old friends." She looked concerned. "I didn't offend you, did I?"

No.

"I can't imagine you ever getting prudish, Tom."

"No, no."

"Not you." She laughed. "Remember the night we broke the bed?"

He poured the wine. "We didn't exactly break it."

"Sure we did. You had me bent over the bottom of the footboard and"

"I remember-"

"And first we broke the footboard, and then the bottom of the bed crashed downbut you didn't want to stop so we moved up and then when I was grabbing the headboard it all came

"I remember," he said, wanting to interrupt her, to stop this. "Those days were great. Listen, Meredith-"

"And then the woman from downstairs called up? Remember her? The old Lithuanian lady? She vanted to know if somebody had died or vhat?"

"Yeah. Listen. Going back to the drive…"

She took the wineglass. "I am making you uncomfortable. What did you think I was coming on to you?"

"No, no. Nothing like that."

"Good, because I really wasn't. I promise." She gave him an amused glance, then tilted her head back, exposing her long neck, and sipped the wine. "In fact, I-ah! Ah!" She winced suddenly.

"What is it?" he said, leaning forward, concerned.

"My neck, it goes into spasm, it's right there…" With her eyes still squeezed shut in pain, she pointed to her shoulder, near the neck.

"What should I-"

`Just rub it, squeeze-there-"

He put down his wineglass and rubbed her shoulder. "There?"

"Yes, ah, harder-squeeze -"

He felt the muscles of her shoulder relax, and she sighed. Meredith turned her head back and forth slowly, then opened her eyes. "Oh… Much better… Don't stop rubbing."

He continued rubbing.

"Oh, thanks. That feels good. I get this nerve thing. Pinched something, but when it hits, it's really…" She turned her head back and forth. Testing. "You did that very well. But you were always good with your hands, Tom."

He kept rubbing. He wanted to stop. He felt everything was wrong, that he was sitting too close, that he didn't want to be touching her. But it also felt good to touch her. He was curious about it.

"Good hands," she said. "God, when I was married, I thought about you all the time."

"You did?"

"Sure," she said. "I told you, he was terrible in bed. I hate a man who doesn't know what he's doing." She closed her eyes. "That was never your problem, was it."

She sighed, relaxing more, and then she seemed to lean into him, melting toward his body, toward his hands. It was an unmistakable sensation. Immediately, he gave her shoulder a final friendly squeeze, and took his hands away.

She opened her eyes. She smiled knowingly. "Listen," she said, "don't worry."

He turned and sipped his wine. "I'm not worried."

"I mean, about the drive. If it turns out we really have problems and need agreement from higher management, we'll get it. But let's not jump the gun now."

"Okay, fine. I think that makes sense." He felt secretly relieved to be talking once again about the drive. Back on safe ground. "Who would you take it to? Directly to Garvin?"

"I think so. I prefer to deal informally." She looked at him. "You've changed, haven't you."

"No… I'm still the same."

"I think you've changed." She smiled. "You never would have stopped rubbing me before."

"Meredith," he said, "it's different. You run the division now. I work for you."

"Oh, don't be silly."

"It's true."

"We're colleagues." She pouted. "Nobody around here really believes I'm superior to you. They just gave me the administrative work, that's all. We're colleagues, Tom. And I just want us to have an open, friendly relationship."

"So do I."

"Good. I'm glad we agree on that." Quickly, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "There. Was that so terrible?"

"lt wasn't terrible at all."

"Who knows? Maybe we'll have to go to Malaysia together, to check on the assembly lines. They have very nice beaches in Malaysia. You ever been to Kuantan?"

No.

"You'd love it."

"I'm sure."

"I'll show it to you. We could take an extra day or two. Stop over. Get some sun."

"Meredith-"

"Nobody needs to know, Tom."

"I'm married."

"You're also a man."

"What does that mean?"

"Oh Tom," she said, with mock severity, "don't ask me to believe you never have a little adventure on the side. I know you, remember?"

"You knew me a long time ago, Meredith."

"People don't change. Not that way."

"Well, I think they do."

"Oh, come on. We're going to be working together, we might as well enjoy ourselves."

He didn't like the way any of this was going. He felt pushed into an awkward position. He felt stuffy and puritanical when he said: "I'm married now."

"Oh, I don't care about your personal life," she said lightly. "I'm only responsible for your on-the-job performance. All work and no play, Tom. It can be bad for you. Got to stay playful." She leaned forward. "Come on. Just one little kiss…"

The intercom buzzed. "Meredith," the assistant's voice said.

She looked up in annoyance. "I told you, no calls."

"I'm sorry. It's Mr. Garvin, Meredith."

"All right." She got off the couch and walked across the room to her desk, saying loudly, "But after this, Betsy, no more calls."

"All right, Meredith. I wanted to ask you, is it okay if I leave in about ten minutes? I have to see the landlord about my new apartment."

"Yes. Did you get me that package?"

"I have it right here."

"Bring it in, and then you can leave."

"Thank you, Meredith. Mr. Garvin is on two."

Meredith picked up the phone and poured more wine. "Bob," she said. "Hi. What's up?" It was impossible to miss the easy familiarity in her voice.

She spoke to Garvin, her back turned to Sanders. He sat on the couch, feeling stranded, foolishly passive and idle. The assistant entered the room carrying a small package in a brown paper bag. She gave the package to Meredith.