Ivy, or Normalcy is Overrated

By L. V. MacLean

He's worked his way through school at the Premier Escort Agency.

Born in the slums of a mining planet, Jared Ramirez found his way to the planet Haivran, the intellectual center of the Four Species Alliance. Agencies are legal, licensed and regulated, and an attractive young man with a flair for pleasing a female clientèle is in great demand. And Jared has an advantage; he can read minds, and sometimes influence the minds of the people around him. He never talks about it, but it can be a useful little talent.

But now he is seeing an end to his Agency work. He's teaching at the Institute and he is within reach of his doctorate. His client list is short now, only his favorite regulars, and he is trying to find other Agency representatives to take his place with them. Within the year, he hopes, his only romantic relationship will be with his long-time lover Maud. He will use his Ears in the classroom, and with his Zamuaon friends next door, and the eight-year-old up the street with powerful natural Ears.

But now his presence is demanded by a new Agency client, one who claims to know about him and insists that no one else will satisfy her. His Ears tell him she doesn't really want him, so why does she pursue him with such great urgency? He has other things on his mind; he doesn't need to cope with a young woman he doesn't much like, or her mysterious agenda.

And Maud has her own ideas about Ivy's secrets and intentions.

This is a novella, suggestive rather than explicit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. V. MacLean
• Release date: May 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476202723

L. V. MacLean

I come from a long line of story tellers and journalists, and I worked as a local journalist for years. That was fun, but my first love is fiction. Home is the eastern half of Montana, wheat fields and range land and small towns. I have a husband, two grown children, a lively grandson, and a superior cat. What more could anyone want? Just a laptop with a word processing program!

Book preview

Ivy

or

Normalcy Is Overrated

by L. V. MacLean

Copyright 2012 L. V. MacLean

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art by Taylor Steele

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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For The Usual Suspects

I couldn't have done it without you!

Ivy

or Normalcy is Overrated

Chapter I

I know. But she said it had to be you, said Cindy on the phone.

I'm not taking new clients, said Jared, unlocking his car door with his thumb print. It had snowed while he lectured in the Climate Controlled warmth of the Institute classroom. It was still snowing. His car, like the other cars in the Seelier Hall parking lot, was covered with several centimeters of cold white stuff. Holding the phone in one hand, he brushed off the side window with an elbow, and tossed his briefcase into the passenger side of the front seat.

I know, said Cindy, but she said she had to have you, no one else would do. And it's only for one night, Jared. I'm pretty sure. She said just tonight.

I'm not taking new clients, said Jared. I'm trying to make arrangements for my old clients; I'm not taking new clients.

I know, said Cindy, but she's only just got into town, and you were highly recommended. She was told you were the very best.

This, a blatant attempt to manipulate him with flattery, aroused suspicion. Cindy was very anxious to have everything running smoothly. Joan was out of town getting acquainted with her new grandson, and she had left Cindy in charge in her absence, an obvious test of Cindy's managerial ability. Joan was speaking more and more of retiring from an active role in the Agency, finding someone who could handle the day to day administrative duties. Cindy had ambitions.

Cindy, he said. I'm not taking new clients.

I know, she said, but she's quite sure; the recommendation –

No new clients, he said, turning on the power in the car. A dreary grey light came through the snow-covered windows. He liked to drive, but it was cold and the idea of standing out in the winter wind mopping snow and ice off the slowly heating windshield lacked appeal. He punched the default setting into his nav unit. Let the car find its own way to his carport. So who gave her this recommendation, anyway? he asked. All of his regulars knew he was retiring from the Agency. He doubted that any of them would have recommended him to a stranger without at least talking to him first.

She comes from Lofton; she says Helen recommended you, said Cindy, in the tone of one clinching the argument.

He could not possibly have heard her correctly. What? Who?

Helen. Helen recommended you. Highly.

Helen, he said, blankly. Helen had passed him off as her Bridgeton boyfriend at her company conventions for years; no one at her office had any idea that she had initially hired him to play the part. They had transcended this beginning, of course. To the end of her life, she had been one of his best friends, only incidentally a client. But she was secretive about the situation. He couldn't picture her telling any of her coworkers. She wouldn't have told friends; well, she had not really had friends outside the office. At the end, having quit her job, having moved out of reach of both friends and enemies, she wouldn't tell even her sister how she and Jared had met. Heather had to piece it together for herself.

He could not imagine her going so far as to recommend his services to anyone.

Not Helen, he told Cindy. The car was finding its way out of the parking lot. The snow was blowing off the windows and he could see other cars moving on the street, a few pedestrians. It was not a nice afternoon; people were mostly staying inside.

Yeah, it's kind of surprising, said Cindy, but she knew about Helen, where she worked and who she worked with and the place she lived. Stuff about the projects she was in charge of; I don't know much about it, but you would. She knew Helen quit last spring. She knew Helen died. You notified the company, didn't you? She said you had.

Yes, of course, but Cindy –

And she said Helen talked about you to her. Once or twice, anyway, and Helen knew she was thinking of moving here, not wanting, you know, to be working for that company all her life, and Helen told her she should, if she wanted, because of course she doesn't know anyone here in Bridgeton; Helen told her you were the very best, and the person who would take care of her the best. Cindy paused, perhaps reviewing his relationship with Helen, which had gone well beyond the professional level. I think she meant in bed, she said, and Jared laughed.

But I still can't see Helen talking with anyone about it, he said.

Cindy knew Helen too, casually; everyone at the Agency knew regular clients, no matter who they belonged to. Yes, she agreed. I was surprised. But the way she talked, I'm pretty sure she was telling the truth. She knew things about Helen; she knew a lot more than you'd find out on the screen. Unless she was watching Helen for years, having her followed or something, and why would she do that? Oh, and Jared, she said she knew about someone named Harry. She said you would know who he was.

Harry, he said. No one knew about Harry, with the exception of Fetal Management, and his adoptive family and Helen's sister Heather. And Jared himself. He didn't think even Helen's ex-husband knew about Harry, only that Helen had gotten rid of an inconvenient pregnancy before it was noticed by anyone at the office.

And how in hell anyone could have found out about Harry – Okay, who is this woman? he said.

Her name is Ivy, said Cindy. Ivy Madison; she's twenty-six, blue eyes, lots of blond hair. Not bad looking. Intense. One of those people, she takes herself very seriously. She does something in marketing, but she's learning design; I guess she's wanting to do something in program design here in Bridgeton. She's looking for a job.

Any credits? A young person in the big city searching for employment was pretty likely to be broke, he thought, not able to afford the Agency fees. Premier was a high-end Agency.

Paid in advance, said Cindy, thus accounting for her sense of urgency. Ivy, having paid, would want what she paid for. Joan, wanting her customers to be satisfied, would want Ivy to have what she paid for, or she would want to know exactly why Cindy had accepted Ivy's credits without giving her full value. It wasn't good for business.

So this Ivy had spoken of Helen with a good deal of intimacy, demanded an evening with Helen's former hired lover, paid in advance for it. And now Jared's curiosity was aroused. He didn't believe for a moment that Helen had sent Ivy to him, but he wanted to know exactly how Ivy knew about him, and Helen, and Helen's life, and Helen's son. And he wanted to know why she had gone to so much trouble to collect this information, which wasn't readily available, to make him believe she had it all from Helen – in order, he guessed, to persuade him into this meeting. He supposed he ought to feel flattered that someone wanted him this much, but he didn't. What he felt was caution, wariness; he was being manipulated, and he wanted to know why.

Well, you've got my full attention now, he said to Cindy. A newcomer to the city who knows a hell of a lot more about Helen than anyone should, and about me, too, apparently. Where is this person? When does she want me?

Really, said Cindy, I think – my sense of her is that she's okay. Like I said, kind of intense. It does seem funny about Helen, but it's possible, don't you think, that just once, maybe if she was really tired, or drunk, or something like that –

No, said Jared bluntly. Helen did not let down her guard, not when she was tired, or drunk, or sedated in the hospital. It was not possible. But dealing with the public as intimately as they did, Agency representatives learned early to size up their clients, weigh their remarks, probe their stated desires, seek for the unstated. He himself had his Ears, which gave him access to their minds, their private thoughts. So he had a considerable edge, but Cindy without Ears could still sum up a client pretty accurately. And she felt this one was okay in this context, a little intense, but not dangerously crazy.

And okay or not, Jared needed to know exactly what was going on. Bringing Helen into it – he had lost her six months ago; he wasn't used to her absence. The concert season was in full swing, and he wasn't used to her absence. He had been to the theater, and he wasn't used to her absence. In no way was he ready to have her memory used as a tool against him.

So where is she, he said, and when does she think she wants me?

A pause; there had been something in his voice, he supposed. Cindy had, after all, known him from childhood. You coming in? I have the interview right here; you can watch it.

No reason to bother.

But you'll take her? As a client?

For a start, he said, we can say that. When and where?

The Castle Keep, he told Maud, so if I can't be found tomorrow, you'll know where to start the search for my lifeless body.

The Castle Keep. Expensive and silly, said Maud. I don't think you should go, darling; I don't like the sound of this. She's luring you with Helen's name. There can't be any honest reason for that.

If you do go, you should at least be very careful, said Carter, leaning a shoulder against the door to the dining room; he had come out of his kitchen when he heard Jared's voice, bringing hot coffee. He was holding by the handle a cleaner in rest mode, the lights blinking lazily. It had spent the afternoon, he said, polishing the coffee table and removing most of the finish, and he planned to reprogram it this evening. Carter's record for small-appliance repair was not all that good. Jared was glad he himself would be out of the way for this project.

Jared had given no promises – he had his mind on research and writing this evening – but he knew Maud expected him to dinner anyway; he knew he was disappointing her. That was why, once he had showered and changed clothes, he had gone to the penthouse to break the news in person. Well, in another year he would be