My Man Pendleton(14)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

“Pendleton, you’re up.”

As always, his boss’s announcement snapped him right out of what had promised to be a very good preoccupation. And, as always, all he could say in response was, “Sir?”

His employer eyed him impatiently. “Go get Kit,” he reiterated. “Bring her home.”

“But—”

“Beaches,” McClellan, Sr. elaborated. “She likes beaches, Pendleton. Try the beaches.”

Well, gee, that certainly narrowed it down. That is, Pendleton thought, it would have narrowed it down. If he’d had any intention of going after the boss’s daughter. Which, of course, he didn’t. Hey, it wasn’t in his job description.

But all he could manage by way of an objection was, “Beaches, sir?”

Instead of answering him. McClellan, Sr. turned to Rutledge. “Where did you find her, Rutledge?”

“St. Lucia,” the other man replied.

McClellan, Sr. nodded, then eyed the next executive in the group. “Hayes, where was she when you went after her?”

“Antigua, sir.”

“Washington?”

“I found her in Jamaica.”

“Redhawk?”

“St. Croix, sir.”

“Bahadoori?”

“Montserrat.”

And so it went, all around the table, until McClellan, Sr. had quizzed each of his VPs as to his runaway daughter’s various destinations. Clearly, running away from home was a habit of Kit’s. And clearly, sending his executives after her was the way McClellan, Sr. handled it. What wasn’t clear was why the Hensley’s executives would go along with such a thing.

“It would appear, Pendleton,” his boss said, “that she rather likes the Caribbean. You might want to begin your search there.”

“My search, sir?”

McClellan, Sr.’s expression probably would have been the same if Pendleton had just hopped up onto the table, whipped open his pants, and introduced everyone in the room to Mr. Happy. “Of course, Pendleton,” he said evenly. “I thought I made that clear. It’s your turn to go after Kit.”

“But, sir,” he continued, already feeling defeated, “is that really necessary? After all, your daughter is an adult who’s free to do as she—”

“You can have a week off,” his boss interrupted him before he could finish. “I’ll look forward to Kit’s return to the house by Thursday night, next week. Put all your expenses on the company credit card. Oh, and, Pendleton.”

“Sir?”

“Don’t forget to pack your sunscreen. That sun down there in the Caribbean…it’s merciless.”

For one long moment, Pendleton only sat in his chair, pinching his nose hard, squeezing his eyes shut tight, willing himself to please, in the name of God, wake up from whatever bizarre dream he had tumbled into. Unfortunately, with the passage of every second, it became crystal clear that what he had been hoping was nothing more than the surreal, was, in reality, well…reality.

“Um, sir?” he finally managed to say.

“Yes, Pendleton.”

He forced his eyes open, willed his hand back down to the table, and somehow managed to meet his employer’s gaze. “This, um…That is, sir… What I mean to say is…”

“Spit it out, Pendleton.”

He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s just that…well, going after your daughter isn’t exactly in my job description, sir.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Sir?”

“Have you read your job description all the way through yet, Pendleton?”

He hedged. “Well, it is a bit longer than the average job description, and getting settled in my office has taken a lot more time than I thought it would, and—”

“Read it,” McClellan, Sr. interrupted him.

“Yes, sir.”

“And pay special attention to page four, paragraph six, subheading… subheading…”

“Subheading A, sir,” each of the executives offered as one.

“Subheading A,” McClellan, Sr. continued without missing a beat. “It’s perfectly self-explanatory. Anything else?”

Actually, there were quite a few anything elses on Pendleton’s mind, but for the life of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to utter even one.

So McClellan, Sr. gave his executives the final once-over, rose from his chair, and announced, “I think that’s everything. Now get out.”

Then, as was his habit, he disappeared through the door to his office, his son following in his wake. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them did the rest of the executives leap up from their chairs, descend upon Pendleton like a plague of pinstripes, and begin to speak in a single, solitary roar.

“Forget about packing sunscreen,” Martin began. “You go after that girl, you better be packing a piece. The sun down there in Caribbean isn’t the only thing that’s merciless.”

“And forget about watching the beaches,” Ramirez told him. “You watch your back, man.”

Not more than an hour later, someone thrust a legal pad toward him with what appeared to be the names of several travel agencies.

“These are the agencies Miss McClellan has used in the past,” he heard Novak say. “Though you probably won’t have any luck there. She never uses the same one twice.”

“She always travels under an assumed name,” Washington added, “but it’ll be one you can probably identify if you try hard enough. Like Gertrude Stein, for instance.”

“Or Betty Crocker,” Carmichael said.

“Ida Lupino,” Rutledge added.

“Dr. Denton,” Ramirez continued.

“Che Guevera,” Bahadoori offered.

Pendleton studied each of his colleagues in turn. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see a pattern here.”

“Exactly,” Novak said, as the others nodded sagely.

He waited for a more complete explanation, but wasn’t quite surprised when none was forthcoming. So, with a sigh of resignation, he asked, “Then you think I should contact one of these travel agencies?”

“No!”the entire group chorused.

“You should absolutely not contact any of them,” Rutledge stated adamantly. “Miss McClellan’s reputation definitely precedes her”.

Hadn’t Pendleton heard that already from someone? Oh, right, he immediately recalled. He’d heard about Kit’s reputation from Kit herself. Hmm.”So I should try a new one then?” he wondered aloud.