Lacey Wentz- yes, that's actually her name- was the staff photographer for the engineering firm where I worked. Her work had appeared in the pages of Architectural Digest and other publications, she was really quite good. She was also quite mad. There were numerous office jokes going around behind her back- that she was in a steady state of PMS, that she was borderline schizophrenic, or at least manic-depressive. Her mood swings were legendary and totally unpredictable- in seconds she could go from being cooperative, friendly and creative to throwing a complete temper tantrum, slamming things down on her desk and storming out of the office. But her work was good enough that her idiosyncrasies were either tolerated or ignored. Actually it was a mystery why she was working in the first place. Her grandfather, Phillip G. Wentz, had founded a string of textile mills through the South, and a chain of radio stations through the Midwest, and her family was worth billions. How she spent her time away from the job was also a mystery- but mostly we didn't care. She had been with our company a little over a year, and was just accepted for doing quality work regardless of her quirks.
Lacey was under 30- very slender with long straight brown hair to the center of her back which she often tied in a ponytail or stacked on her head in a pinned-up bun. She was about 5'7", with small but pert, pointy breasts. Her green eyes seemed either too large for her head, or were always opened abnormally wide, giving her a 'wild' kind of look to go with her sudden mood swings. She came across as a bit of a 'nature child,' since her entire wardrobe seemed to consist of hip-hugger jeans, moccasins and trim white shirts beaded with American Indian designs. She did have a nice smile that was seldom seen, but I never thought of her as attractive or sexy.... actually, I never thought of her at all unless I passed her in the halls or happened to be in the vicinity of one of her fits... and we'd all roll our eyes and go on about business.
At 55, I had nearly 20 years with the Company and found myself already counting the years to retirement. I keep myself in pretty good shape as an avid tennis player in my spare time and my blond hair is still thick but streaked with silver. I've become kind of a troubleshooter for our projects in the field, being sent out to identify problems and find solutions when things do not go as planned.... which is often on big jobs. One of our big jobs was a dam in the gorge of a wild river in the middle of Idaho- and on this day there were problems. The Operations VP called me into his office.
"Ya gotta get out there and see what the hell's going on, Jim. The lead contractor says the south retaining wall just isn't holding as we drew it. Every time there's a rain, they're starting over. You'll have to take Lacey with you to get pictures."
My mind was on the problem, not on his last sentence. "That's the same retaining structure we used on the Three-Forks job and it's never failed. I don't think those guys know how to drive a bulldozer."
"That's what I'm sayin'. So grab Lacey and get your asses on the next plane west."
"Huh? Lacey? Travel with Lacey?"
"We need pics, man. You can ignore her whining for two days- just get out there."
In no time it seemed I was on a plane with Lacey Wentz, connecting through Atlanta, then Kansas City, then Denver where we boarded an old turbo-prop liner that seemed to stop in every cow pasture of an airport before our final landing. She squirmed and complained the whole time, until that last stretch when she finally napped out. Sleeping, she looked peaceful, even pretty, but my thoughts quickly re-focused on her unpredictable personality... and the assignment ahead. We rented a Jeep and loaded our bags for the 40-mile drive to our motel on a winding road along the river, and the whole time Lacey rooted though her bags saying she'd kill somebody if any of her camera gear was damaged. The weather was gray and misty, and was looking worse with every mile. By the time we reached a flat clearing where the 12-room motel sat, the sun was setting and a light rain began to fall. As we checked in and unloaded, the neon sign out front snapped and sizzled from "MOTE" to "MOTEL" with each raindrop. But the real bad news was this- the construction companies working on the dam had every room in the place booked except one. I was going to have to bunk with the crazy girl.
Sharing a room didn't seem to bother Lacey in the least; it was almost as if she was expecting it. Despite the ratty exterior, the room was big and clean- two queen-sized beds, and spacious bath, TV, heat and air. We dropped our stuff and hit the attached coffee shop for a late hamburger dinner. A few of the construction crew were in there and all eyes were on Lacey, who was probably the only woman they had seen in weeks other than the rotund, gray-haired wife of the motel owner. Oddly, I found myself feeling protective of her, but she completely ignored the attention, ate her burger and fries, and made small talk of how we could knock this assignment out in one day and be home for the weekend.
Somewhere in the middle of the night I was awakened by the boom of thunder... then another and another and the wash of rain on the roof grew louder and louder. I rolled over and focused my eyes on the large picture window, realizing the curtains were open and with each lightning flash I could see the silhouette of Lacey, obviously naked, standing there staring out into the storm. Despite her usual hip huggers and tight shirts, I'd never really taken notice of her curves before now, and at first there was something sensual about the image—but as the intense storm grew even more intense there seemed to be something disturbing, almost supernatural, about seeing this tall, long-haired, somewhat crazy girl standing there silently looking out into the fury of the night. I suddenly felt a chill, pulled the covers up over my shoulder and rolled over trying my best to go back to sleep despite the noise. Somehow I drifted off.
A voice from the television woke me to a gray morning. Some "Idaho AM" show from Boise was giving farm reports. Lacey was up, dressed in her usual and sipping coffee she'd brewed in the complimentary hot cup on the counter. The thunder had passed but it was still pouring outside with waves of white noise from the rain rising and falling with the gusts of wind.
"It's not looking good out there, James. I think we should get the hell out of this dump."
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Well, let me call the office and....." that's when I realized there was no phone in the room. Cell phones were useless out here in the mountains, so I'd have to go to the motel office to call home. I grabbed my shirt and pants and headed into the bath. Lacey never batted an eyelash at my marching across the room in boxers- well, I didn't expect her to. She undoubtedly had all the young hard bodies she needed waiting for her back home.... or whatever she did for companionship. That was the first moment I thought, 'hell, she might even be gay for all I know.' I came out dressed and took in the less than promising weather report and satellite picture on TV as I made coffee for myself. Of course neither of us had packed any rain gear- it would be a run to the office.
"You want to run with me for some breakfast?"
"No, I'm not much of a breakfast person. Coffee's fine."
I dashed out into the blast, soaked through to skin just a few feet out of the door. Even for the middle of July, the rain felt like ice. I shivered and ran.
"Max, things aren't good out here," I nearly shouted into the phone to be heard over the downpour on the roof.
"What?"
