OOOOOOHHH, for all you Uncle Bob fans. Go to the Uncle Bob Store to get your goodies. Hurry, hurry, hurry!!!!


Okay folks... This is part two. I know it's a lot shorter, but it stopped flowing, so I stopped writing. Besides, I'm having some major computer problems. I have a suggestion... Don't trust something just because Napster says it will make your DLs work better. Please.

Sympatico HELP ME!!!!!

Anyway... I'm toying with the idea of Designing Destiny for this story in progress. Opinions????

Peace to you, folks. Have a GREAT day.

George looks across the desk to Michael, a chuckle in his voice. "Looks like you've got a fan club, Thomas. Shall we find out what's going on down there?" Without waiting for an answer, George stands up, striding easily and quickly to the elevator. Michael stands reluctantly, leaving the file folder on George's desk as he quickly makes his way to the elevator, the doors sliding silently shut behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyra rolls her eyes as the strange, extravigantly dressed woman rails on and on about Michael. The loud and grating voice belies her petite stature as once again she screams her useless insults. "That bastard won't get away. Hell run away from you and leave you in the lurch."

Adroitly, Kyra cuts through the rant with her own, warm and gentle words as she rises from her chair, stepping around her desk. "You may not appreciate him, but this is a place of business. I would suggest you calm yourself. Surely a woman of your obvious wealth understands the need for decorum." Her smile is warm and non-threatening as she reaches a hand toward the raven-haired banshee.

The elevator opens, expelling George and Michael into a tide of wild hate. Almost without looking, Michael steps forward, speaking softly, yet with a slight undertone of warning. "Joanna. It is time for you to leave." She whirls, staring defiantly at him. Her voice, like nails on the chalkboard, claws at the walls of the foyer. "NO! You're the one who walks out on unfinished business, remember?"

Kyra turns her eyes to George, as if asking what to do. With a slight shake of his head, Kyra nods and retreats behind her desk, once again taking her seat. She turns back to her duties, answering phones and tapping away at the keyboard. As she does so, she cuts a side-long glance to her boss once again, a slightly questioning look to her eyes.

Again George shakes his head just a little, leaning back as he folds his arms across his chest. The look which flashes across his broad, strong face is one of curiosity, as if this current disturbance were the more pertinant interview. He watches the commotion, mentally noting that Michael had already succeeded in lowering the volume of this strange woman's voice. He raises a hand to subtly halt the encroaching security team.

Joanna stands shaking; her eyes wild; filled with rage, as Michael begins to walk slowly toward the entrance. His voice is quiet, yet still carries a note of command. "Let's discuss this outside, Joanna. I wouldn't want to embarrass Sky-Way with such a display if I were you."

With a curt nod, as if her own actions had been executed by someone else, Joanna turns on her heel, storming from the entry. Deliberately, she knocks her shoulder against Michael's arm, a toss of her head sending a wave of White Diamonds bouncing off the walls. A slight twitch between his shoulderblades remains the only indication that Michael felt the deliberate slight.

He opens the door, pushing his way through then turning to face Joanna. Controled anger sparks within his darkening eyes, his voice heavy with ice. "You've reached the last straw, Joanna. No more. Say your piece then leave. You have two minutes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyra looks up from her computer screen, speaking quietly to her boss. "Shall I call the police?"

With a simple shake of his head, George smiles to her. "No, Kyra. Let's see what happens. If he can handle this mess efficiently then we have ourselves a new Comp Tech whether he wants the job or not." He chuckles softly, winking at her, then moves around behind her desk, reading over her shoulder. "What're ya workin on now?"

Soft laughter floats up through the room once again, the mere sound dispelling the previous tension like a kitten's purr dispells the dangers within shadowed corners. "You'd better watch out, Strat-o-caster. Your drawl is starting to show." She grins to herself, pausing to highlight a specific line of text on the screen. "I've got Mr Thomas' certification records here. The next page is a brief employment history. He's had some interesting positions..." she frowns faintly. "...and some interesting ratings."

A deep, reasuring chuckle resounds from his barrel chest, a brief nod punctuating her nickname for him. Had anyone else called him that, George would have rethought their employment future. There was something about Kyra, however, which always made him smile. She was a good kid, though he could hardly call her a kid. Again he nods as she looks to him, as if waiting for a response.

"Ahh, good good. What else does that infernal machine tell you about this man? You do that criminal background check you were talkin' 'bout?"

She laughs again, a soft brightness coloring her eyes. A faint blush decorates her cheeks for half a moment, seemingly caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Um... Yeah, I did. He's had one traffic ticket. Got in a fender-bender." She turns away from the screen, turning her chair slightly to look at George. "In L.A. no less." Kyra grins in response to George's unasked question. "No, not his fault. The citation was for a cracked tail light. He posted an explanation, for the court report, that the tail light was damaged in the accident." Again, she grins. "But the cop didn't see it that way."

Before George can respond, a shriek can be heard from outside, drawing their attention. Kyra looks up just in time to see Joanna strike at Michael. With a speed belying his size, Michael sidesteps the slap, shaking his head slowly. Again those shrill tones assail the peaceful office before she turns her back as if to leave.

"You abandoned me, stole my car, gutted my apartment and ruined my life and you expect me to just lay down and let you walk all over me again? I am going to show up at every interview, every day of your life. You will never work again. I will ruin you!!"

His voice remains low and calm, the words indistinguishable through the heavy glass of the doors, although his actions make it clear he is less than pleased. Michael again folds his arms over his chest, a look of finality on his face. His unheard words halt her steps for a moment, Joanna's back stiffening as she raises her head a little. This time her rejoinder remains silent within the office before she again moves away from the entry and MIchael.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You made your choice, Joanna. You already tried to ruin my life." Michael folds his arms over his chest the expression in his eyes showing that the finale is at hand. "You can not do anything to hinder or help. I make my own choices." She stops in place, squaring her shoulders just a bit, her head lifting with an haughty aire. With her back to Michael, Joanna closes her eyes at his next words almost as if a switch had been snapped off.

"You care only for yourself, Joanna. You don't give a damn about any of the people you trample on." He pauses a moment, shaking his head slightly. "Someday you will feel the claws of your own hate digging into your flesh.... and when you die, your victims will dance on your grave."

Joanna trembles for just a moment, then her legs begin to move of their own accord, propelling her forward and away from the accusations. Once again she wraps herself in the blanket of her own self-righteousness, denying truth. Stilleto heels click against the pavement of the sidewalk, a desolate sound. Within her mind, Joanna hears nothing but the ceaseless mantra decades old. "I am the only one that matters here. No one else will care, no one else is good enough to care about. I am the only one that matters."

Michael turns away from her, striding back into the lobby and straight to reception desk. The expression on his face remains cold; almost empty. A soft smile alights upon Kyra's face yet no embarrassment or accusation can be found within her eyes. Her own expression states understanding without judgement.

Michael looks to George, speaking with a calculated tone. "Shall we continue the interview?" Loud laughter snaps from the older man's chest; a whip-crack of sound. A broad grin shows off perfect teeth as George continues to laugh through his words. "No, Thomas. No interview necessary. Can you start Monday?"

Michael nods slightly although the surprise is quickly supressed. He extends a hand toward George to seal the deal and George claps Michael's shoulder, meeting the pressure of the handshake. MIchael nods slightly at the look in his new boss' eyes, recognizing the admiration. "If you have the time now, Thomas, let's get you signed in and the paperwork started so ya don't have to mess with all that Monday."

George nods to Kyra, then turns toward the bank of elevators without another word. A gentle laugh caresses the office walls as if she were reclaiming the space in the name of peace and bright tenderness. "Do you have the time now, Mr. Thomas, or would you prefer to come back on another day?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OH, PS... the court thing went marvelously. Thank you so very, very, very much for all your prayers and well wishes. I was told to contact the DMV about getting a restricted liscense for work purposes. I was also given the option of volunteering at any of the charities here in town in the form of community service in lieu of paying the fine. AND, the fine was reduced by 300 bucks. *grins* WOOHOO.

Thank you again, folks. Your prayers and well wishes are so greatly, greatly appreciated!!!