took in the cool breeze from the air conditioner; music from Diana Krall filled the air as he parked between a white Camaro and a black Nissan. He pulled into the spot, turned off his ignition.
He checked his watch, saw it was 12:37, opened the door to his car. His thoughts turned to Rob Barker and his company, North Star Publishing. He balled his fists together, chewed the inside of his cheek. No, he told himself. Just forget about it, Gunn told himself as he slammed the door to his car. Think about something else. Anything else. It’s over with now.
Gunn walked to the mall, looked at the outside of the mall. “10 years,” he said to himself. That’s how long he worked at Blake & Yurman. At that time, they only did product advertising. It seemed like his career would take off after working in recruitment advertising for 4 years at Chandler & Marx. In those days, it was high pressure, getting the classified ads out for the Sunday paper. He felt lucky when he was offered the job at Blake & Yurman, thinking things had changed and all the late hours of being in a dead end job processing ads and taking help wanted ads over the phone was over with.
It was only 4 years later that he received the memo from personnel with all the other employees. The advertising industry had changed and most if not all the agencies had non-compete agreements. Even though his lawyer had mentioned that he can look into other options, there were no other options at this stage of his career. Gunn knew at the time that he had to sign the non-compete agreement.
He still thought of his wife, six months after her death in a car accident on Lake Road. You always hear about drunk drivers but never think that one of them would kill your wife, Gunn mused. He thought of her short blond hair that fell over her ears, her dark eyes, her smile.
One year after working at Blake & Yurman, he saw her sitting on a bench in Lincoln Park with a friend, a woman with red hair who he would learn was her friend Robin. He looked at her several times and she turned away, smiling. She knew that I was looking at her, he thought to himself.
Her friend had walked away from her, headed over to the hot dog stand. Gunn walked over, his heart racing, the woman continuing to stare out into the water. “Nice view,” Gunn said nervously. The woman turned, smiled. “Yes, it is a nice view.”
“The water is nice also,” Gunn replied.
The woman tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. “Are you always this blunt?” the woman asked.
“Only if I really want to meet someone,” Gunn said.
The woman smiled. “I’m Sara.”
“I’m Don. Don Gunn.”
They walked through the park that day, the three of them, Sara telling Don about her work in a law firm as a paralegal for Tolliver & Associates, LLC. She was a Phillies fan to boot.
Gunn shuffled along the line at Pan Wok, a picture of a man lost in thought, brooding. He ordered a chicken, shrimp and vegetable platter with a coke. Taking the tray from the register after he paid for the lunch, he sat down at an empty table near the back of the food court. As he took a bite out of his egg roll, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a woman much younger than him, staring at him from three tables away, then turned to sip her drink out of a straw. He turned and looked behind him, wondering if she was attracted to the three guys who sat at that table. One of them wore a Phillies jersey of Roy Halladay.
His mind wandered back to Sara as he took another bite of his egg roll. He thought back to his wedding 2 years later after they met, her pregnancy, her miscarriage. Yes, he missed his chance to have a son but he knew that Sara was his soul mate and one day they try again.
He had told her many times that he was concerned about his job, especially after signing the non-compete agreement. Sara’s firm recommended a law firm, Sherman & Holtz in Miami, Florida.
When Gunn contacted the firm, the attorney recommended that he see should send the contract first with a check for $350. He would review it and call him. Gunn sent it by messenger overnight and he got the call the next night. The attorney told him the contract was standard in the industry and that they could recommend changes but the company probably wouldn’t accept them. He should either sign it or look for a job with a company that doesn’t have a non-compete contract.
Sara said at that time “what are you worried about? Everything is fine. You’re doing well. You have a job. That’s what’s important.” Gunn knew that most if not all the agencies had non-compete agreements so he signed it.
Yes, he had a job but within three years, he wasn’t getting any advancement. He won a lot of accounts for the agency: Procter & Gamble, Best Foods, and Nike. Yes, he was named a senior account executive after nearly 5 years but the agency was expanding, being more concerned about their growth in their public relations arm.
The agency was losing money. Even though Gunn was one of the few people who brought in more accounts than the other reps, the firm continued to ignore his efforts. Then, after 6 years, the first set of layoffs started. He was nervous but knew he would survive since his team still made more money for the agency that many of the other teams.
When his boss, Cole Bowman was fired, everyone thought that Gunn was in line to take over. Instead, Bob Blake chose Stacey Jones, a sales rep out of the home office in Florida. She had only been with the company for 3 years.
He finished his lunch, emptied it into a garbage can. He looked at the woman again and saw that she was still staring at him, her hand perched on her chin.
He debated about going over to talk to the woman, lost the debate. The truth was that he hadn’t been comfortable talking to another woman since Sara died six months ago. Gunn thought the woman was nearly half his age and she wouldn’t have anything in common with him. He walked out of the food court and into the mall.
His first stop was Best Buy. He had planned to buy some jazz CD’s. He bought albums from Diana Krall, Rick Braun, Mark Antoine, Ramsey Lewis, and The Rippingtons.
Gunn remembered how upset he was at losing out on the promotion. He shook his head, knowing there was nothing he could do since he was on the non-compete agreement. He continued to look for jobs on the internet but he had no experience for any of them since they were in other industries.
He walked to the register, stopped to watch 2 people playing basketball on the X-Box. Video games are more lifelike than they were 20 years ago, Gunn mused.
After he paid for his CD’s at the register, he took the escalator upstairs, staring at his brown shoes, paying no attention to anything that was going on around him. He planned to go to the history section at Barnes & Noble, wanting to read Steve Coll’s Ghost Wars. He was interested in Bin Laden and the history with Afghanistan. Seeing the paperback edition, he grabbed it, then walked over to the fiction section. He grabbed paperbacks by Michael Connelly and John Sanford, debated about looking at true crime novels, won the debate.
As he reached that section, he looked at the books when a female voice behind him said “have you read the execution of Barbara Graham? It’s really good.”
He turned and saw the woman again, noticing a romance paperback novel in her hand. She was nearly his height, 5-7, her blue-black hair fell over her shoulders. The black scoop neck dress fell just above her knee, displaying her long tapering legs. Her top was cut low enough to reveal the deep cleft between her breasts that testified to their fullness.
“No, I haven’t read it,” Gunn said nervously.
She looked into his eyes, smiling. “Why
