Chapter 2

TimK — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 01:00:00 -0800

Seated at the office desk, Damian stared at the piles of papers before him. Yeah, Jay was a genius. Or rather, he had hired a genius to help them. Only a couple weeks ago, they were looking at one of the coldest financial winters since they got into the home heating business, all because an aggressive, new competitor started stealing their customers away. Now, thanks to a brilliant marketing campaign, not only were they no longer losing customers, they had more new customers than they could comfortably handle.

Unfortunately, there was a downside. Jay was always out having business meetings now, making deals with local retail businesses, doing radio and television interviews. And this left Damian alone to pick up the slack, to run the office and make deliveries. They were already looking for part-time help. And Damian had agreed to interview a prospective employee. But there was no reason, he thought, he shouldn’t get a little paperwork done while he was waiting. He picked up a pile of delivery receipts and started entering them into the computer.

He only got a few sheets into the stack when the office door jingled open and a large man entered. He wore his dark hair short, like an ex-marine. A slick, brown, leather jacket defined his broad shoulders. Underneath, he wore a dark shirt and slacks, and black shoes.

Damian rose to shake the man’s hand, stepped from behind the desk. “Hi. You must be Craig.” He reached out his hand. The man grabbed Damian’s hand and squeezed, hard. He crowded Damian and forced him back against the desk. Damian stared in horror, puzzled over what was happening, feared for his safety.

“I ain’t Craig,” the man sneered at Damian. “I’m your enemy.” He released Damian’s hand, took a step back, began to saunter around the room. He picked up a small, plastic snow globe from the desk and examined it. Then with the other hand, he flipped open a manila file folder and turned his attention to the papers therein. The snow globe had been a gift from Damian’s eldest son. The papers were customer files.

Damian rubbed his hand, still tender. “I think you really hurt my hand,” he said.

The man slammed the snow globe down on the desk and snarled, “I can do more than that.”

Damian stared at the snow globe.

The man picked it up again and inspected it. “Is this special?” he asked.

Damian nodded nervously.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asked.

Damian neither said nor did anything.

The man continued. “I’m here on behalf o’ your new competition. Now, we try to be reasonable. We play nice. You know, fair competition. But you don’t give us a chance. You were here first. You have an unfair advantage. So you step in and undercut us, even before we can get started.” He looked questioningly at Damian. “You know what I mean?”

“We charge more than you,” Damian replied. “And you stole our customers away first.”

“What?” The man looked more angry than inquisitive.

Damian repeated himself matter-of-factly. “You tried to undercut us, not the other way around.”

In response, the man wound up and pitched the globe across the room, hard and fast. It crashed into the wall with a loud thunk. Damian whipped around and saw it in three pieces, spilled on the floor.

The man marched up to Damian, grabbed his shirt with one hand, and waved his other fist in his face. “You’re not getting it. I’m asking you nicely.” He dropped his fist, grinned haughtily, and shook his head. “You see, my boss, he’s a reasonable guy, not the sort that comes into a town and takes over. He knows how to share, just like everybody else in this town. But my boss, he don’t like to be bullied. So you got to learn how to share, too. Capisce?”

He paused a moment. “Besides, what you’re doing is illegal.”

The accusation disturbed Damian, in his gut, put him on the defensive. “If you think we’re doing something wrong, why don’t you sue us? Why all the mob mentality?”

“Because proper channels takes too long. It costs too much. Even if we win, we still lose.”

He continued. “This is the only way. And we only warn you one time. Lighten up. Or else I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you stop… uh, throwin’ your weight around.”

Damian wondered what kind of demented, twisted logic it took to embrace such a bizarre incongruity. He also wondered what made him think he could get away with it. But the man stood a foot taller than Damian, and Damian could see his muscles bulge even underneath the leather jacket. He sneered in Damian’s face and his fist was still clenched. And Damian had a bad, bad feeling about this. If this bully were to mess up Damian’s face, no one would bring him to justice. Because Damian knew he couldn’t go to the cops, because of his son. For a moment, Damian wondered if the man knew this as well.

Then before Damian could work out what to do next, the man stood tall, nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of Damian’s shirt where he had ruffled it.

He said, “Think about it. Because next time I won’t be so nice.”

And he left.

Ted couldn’t believe it, once the news reached his desk. True, Jerry was only human, and humans made mistakes. And Ted had made mistakes of his own over the years, and some of those were doozies. But mistakes tend to backfire on you, and now was not the time for mistakes. Still, Ted knew that if he could breathe deeply for a few minutes and not think about Jerry or his blunder—

Ted tried to unclench his teeth. Instead, he slammed his fist down on the desk, rattling the pens and pencils in his pen-and-pencil holder. Then he did relax his jaw. He took a deep breath. If he could distract himself for a few minutes, he knew he’d be able to think clearly afterward.

A knock sounded from the door, which opened to reveal a young man in a dark suit and red tie. A layer of sandy hair sat atop his head, and a pair of delicate glasses framed his brown eyes.

“It’s not a good time, Jerry,” Ted said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jerry replied. “I still need to speak with you urgently.”

“It’s not a good time, because I’ve already heard.” Ted was desperately trying to remain calm.

“Oh.” Jerry stared off to the side for a moment, into the air. Then he took a few steps forward. “Don’t you want to debrief me?”

Ted stood from his chair. He raised his voice. “Now are telling me how to do my job? Huh? Is that how it’s going to be? After you…“ Ted could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins, undiluted rage like a bomb ready to detonate, being held in check only by sheer force of will.

He slammed his fists on the desk again, and Jerry took a shocked step back.

Ted closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “I just need a few minutes to get my mind around this,” he intoned without opening his eyes.

“Unfortunately, we have a meeting set up in an hour, and I think there’s more here to go over than we have time for.”

“Are you kidding?” Ted was raising his voice again. “I think it’s all pretty cut and dry! You lose!” Ted stabbed at the air between them to enunciate his point. “You lose. I lose. We all fucking lose!”

Ted stepped out from behind his desk. “Damn it!” He shouted. “I trusted you. I stuck up for you. I put myself on the line for you. And this is how you repay me?”

“It was a mistake,” Jerry said.

“A mistake?! Is that all you can say? Do you have any idea how stupid a mistake that was?”

“I know exactly how silly it seems, but it’s still a very common contract provision.”

“Do you think I care—“

“Most lawyers don’t even pay any attention to it, because it’s boilerplate.”

“Wonderful! I could have hired anyone if I wanted fucking boilerplate! I could have hired a fucking legal secretary!”

“This happened years ago, years before I made partner. I realize this is a youthful indiscretion. But it was youthful.”

“Indiscretion?! You think you got caught in bed with a married woman? That I could deal with!” Ted put his hands on either side of his head, clenched his teeth again, and writhed. “God!”

“Besides,” Jerry continued, “it does mean more business for us.”

Ted suddenly stopped. He stared at Jerry, mouth open. His voice quieted, but it sounded just as angry. And it increased in volume as he continued talking, louder and louder, until he was shouting again. “I don’t believe it. You have the unmitigated gall to come in here and try to defend yourself? As though your incompetence is just par for the course? And might even be good for us? What kind of a fucking screw-up are you?!” And then he screamed in disgust and fury.

Michael knocked at the door. “Excuse me. I don’t think you realize how far your voice carries.”

Ted looked at his friend and suddenly felt very ashamed. But his face didn’t move a muscle. As a litigator, he knew how to reveal feelings that weren’t there and, more importantly, how to conceal feelings that were eating him alive— when he needed to.

Michael turned to Jerry. “Hi, Jerry.” Michael smiled at him. “Good to see you again.”

Jerry nodded a hello.

“Can you give us a few minutes?” Michael asked.

Jerry paused for a moment before he nodded again. “Sure,” he said.

After he left, Michael closed the door. In one hand, he was carrying a paper bag. He reached into it and lifted out a can of cola, set it on the desk in front of Ted’s chair. He reached back into the bag and pulled out a sandwich.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?” Michael asked.

Ted shook his head. “Young lawyers are so incompetent,” he said. Truthfully, he didn’t want to think about what had been bothering him.

“That’s not what I mean,” Michael said. Out from the bag came another cola and a second sandwich. “I brought lunch, and you need food.”

Ted nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right.” He walked around to his side of the desk, sat, and opened his sandwich just as Michael was taking a bite of his.

“I haven’t seen you like this in a long, long time, my friend.” Michael reclined in Ted’s guest chair.

“I’m just tired. Stressed.”

Michael nodded. “You want to hear about someone else’s problems for a change?”

“I’d love to,” Ted said.

“A client fired me today.”

Ted stopped mid-bite and said, “Well, you probably had it coming.”

“Seriously,” Michael said. “No joke. He fired me.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Made him a million dollars.”

“That’s a joke, right?” Ted said. Sometimes he couldn’t tell.

“No, I’m afraid not. I put together a campaign that is earning him a million dollars over the next year, and in gratitude, he fired me.”

“I’m still waiting for the punchline.”

“Get ready for a long wait,” Michael said, and he resumed chewing.

Ted thought of his inability to help Hashim and his family, a memory still fresh in his mind. He knew Baedes must have threatened him, but he also knew that they could have fought Baedes and won. “Sometimes you can’t make people do what’s best for them,” he remarked.

“True,” Michael said. “But that’s because their mind is somewhere else, not on what you have to offer.

“But these guys, these clients, they came to me. I didn’t go to them. I didn’t have to convince them of anything. And I gave them exactly what they wanted. And they were ecstatic about it. Until this morning. Then, suddenly, I’m fired. They don’t even tell me personally. I get the news from my boss, Señor Pointy-hair, and you can imagine how enjoyable that was. Then they won’t answer their phones, won’t return my calls. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear they dropped off the edge of the earth.”

“Hmm.” Ted asked himself what reason might have caused a happy business client to desert a consultant who was making him so much money, and how to find out which reason it actually was. He took another bite of his sandwich.

Michael swigged his cola. “You know,” he said in a casual tone, “you need to apologize to Jerry.”

“I know,” was Ted’s reply.

Jane gave the only excuse she could think of.

Her husband had caught up to her in the living room, while she was bending over the the coffee table, tidying it up. He sidled up behind her, patted her on the rear, and said, “Tomorrow’s your day off this week. Do you have any special plans?”

Now she replied, simply, “No. Just housework and taking it easy.”

That was a lie, of course. She had planned to meet Clydene Jackson again for lunch. Or maybe brunch. They had also kicked around the idea of going shopping. And Jane was looking forward to the get-together. But when asked about it, she knew she shouldn’t say anything.

Clyde was involved in some pretty shady activities. And Jane supported her, because despite how nefarious her methods may have looked to an outsider, Clyde was one of the good guys. Jane felt a rapport with Clydene, because Clyde had sincerely tried to help Jane, even when they had hardly known each other. And now Jane’s grief had turned to anger, and Clyde was one of the only people in the world who could understand that anger. Perhaps she even felt it, too. And no matter what else, there was one thing Jane simply could not do. It was part of her innate being, a habit bred from the time she was very little. Jane could not betray a confidence. And this was a confidence. So Jane and Clyde’s relationship had to remain on the QT.

Now, when Marvin asked whether she had plans for her day off from work, she said what she needed to. She lied.

“Let’s spend the day together,” he said. “I’ll take a vacation day, and we’ll do something, just the two of us. Like it was before the boys were born.”

Jane was taken aback. She straightened up suddenly. “Uh, I don’t know if that would work.”

“Are you kidding? Why in the world not?”

“Well—“ Jane searched for an explanation. “You can’t just call in and say, ‘Hi. I’m taking a vacation.’ Don’t you have to tell them, like, two weeks ahead of time?”

Marvin kissed her forehead. “It’s slow at work this week, dear. It’s the best time for me to take a day off.”

“Okay,” Jane said, but she was secretly thinking that she would have to rearrange her schedule, sneak in a call to Clyde’s cellphone.

“What?” asked Marvin. “Don’t you want to spend the day with me?” He must have detected something in her demeanor.

“Uh, no, I’m good.”

“So what’s with the funny look?”

“Uh, I was just thinking about something else.”

He paused a moment. “You had plans.”

“No, no plans,” she said.

“If you have plans, just say so.”

“I don’t have any plans,” she insisted. She looked directly into his eyes and intoned, “I’m looking forward to it.”

He searched her eyes as if digging for the truth. “Fine, then,” he said. “It’s a date.”

But he didn’t go on to the next subject. Instead, he said, “Who did you have plans with?”

And that’s when the fight started.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows onto Clyde’s kitchen table. Seated under it, she opened up to a blank leaf in her notepad. At the top, she wrote the word, “Guests.” Then she listed the obvious: “Mira,” followed by “Michael.” Besides Ted and herself, that would be six people, assuming Mira and Michael each brought a plus-one. That meant, if they put the leaf in the dining-room table, they could invite two more couples, make it an even ten.

Personally, Clyde doubted Mira would invite anyone, nor that she would want to. And Clyde knew that Mira would hate to be set up. So that left a spare place at the table, or an odd number. Clydene didn’t mind having an odd number. It was more important to her that her friends have a good time together at Thanksgiving. And that was what bugged her about Mira. Clyde had a feeling Mira was going to have a miserable, lonely time, no matter what anyone did. And that really sucked.

So four, possibly five, open spots. Clyde knew at least one more person she wanted to invite.

Ted had been watching television in the next room. Now, he entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

“Hey, Ted,” Clyde said. “Remember those people we met a few weeks ago out on Linden Street?”

“You mean the Hashim family?” He pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“No, their neighbors, Marvin and Jane Mooney.”

Ted considered for a moment, as he took a gulp of water. “Yes. I remember them.”

“I’d like to invite them to Thanksgiving dinner.”

Ted looked surprised. “Really? What makes you think they’d accept?”

“I don’t know that they would. Do you have any objection to my asking?”

“No objections. Knock yourself out.”

“We still have 2, possibly 3, spaces open. Do you have anyone you want to invite?”

“Not particularly. I might know someone from the office.”

“Okay.”

“Or you could ask Michael. He always knows someone.”

Michael did indeed know someone, several people, in fact, and he was very anxious to offer them these spots. He finally caught up with Jay and his brother Damian at the J&D corporate office, which consisted of a single room, paint peeling from the walls. As Michael entered, a bell jingled cheaply. His shoes clacked on the worn, wooden floor. Jay was sitting on, leaning against a cluttered desk near the opposite wall. Filing cabinets lined another wall. And Damian balanced himself on a ladder above a large-leafed plant in the corner, next to the room’s sole window, which looked out onto the street. Damian was fiddling with something on the ceiling, something that looked like a small security camera.

Meanwhile, Clyde reached Jane on her cell phone. But when Clyde asked if it was a good time to talk, Jane hemmed and hawed. Suddenly, Clyde heard a man’s voice yelling directly into the phone. Something about “it’s over” and “never want you to call my wife again, do you understand?”

“No, I don’t understand,” Clyde said.

There was a pause, then the man said, “Are you gay?”

“Ugh! God, no!” Clyde said, disgusted and embarrassed. “Who the hell is this!?”

“So, you’re not having an affair with my wife?”

Back at J&D, Michael asked Jay, “Have you had a break-in.”

“No,” Jay said. “We’re just shoring up security.”

“Who’d want to steal anything around here?” Michael asked.

Jay scoffed and said, “You’d be surprised.”

On the phone, Clyde felt and sounded angry. “No, I’m not having an affair with anyone. And certainly not another woman. Who is this? Is this Marvin?”

“I don’t think I would be surprised,” Michael said. He knew something was amiss, even though he didn’t know what it was. And he absolutely hated the feeling of knowing something but not being able to figure out what it was. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know why you think anything is going on,” Jay said.

“Because you cut off an award-winning campaign, and now you’re tightening security in this little two-man office. You afraid Damian’s going to rip you off?”

Clyde did her best to smile, because she had read somewhere that it made you seem friendlier and more likable, even on the phone. Even so, her words came out in sharp, harsh bursts. “This is Clydene Jackson, Ted Jackson’s wife. I believe you met my husband.” She waited for a reply.

“Yes, briefly.”

Clyde softened her voice. “Each year, we have a Thanksgiving Day party. If you’d like, you’re welcome to come.” Then she backtracked a beat. “I’d like you to come. That is, I’d like it if you could come. It’s completely family-friendly. So bring the boys. We have some close friends over, and… That’s about it.”

Michael told them a story. He hated to reveal so much of what lay beneath his skin, but it was what he always advised his clients to do. And so it was only fair that when the chips were down, he should come clean as well. He leaned up against the wall and began:

“I fell in love in college, to a beautiful, wonderful, smart girl. The problem was, I wasn’t doing so well in my classes. Academics just don’t agree with me. The only reason I was there was because my parents wanted me to go. But that’s another story.

“So I was in love with a straight-A student, and I was just barely passing. And she didn’t know any of this. Because I was afraid to tell her the trouble I was having. I was afraid to tell her how much I hated it. I thought she would look down on me and that would be the end of it. So I kept it a secret.”

Jay interrupted. “This has nothing to do with the price of eggs.”

Michael put his hand up to calm him and continued. “But things got so bad for me, I finally had to tell her. And do you know what she did?”

“What?” Jay asked blandly.

“She thought it was no big deal, and she introduced me to her Uncle John, a self-made millionaire who felt exactly as I did about school. Actually, he was more crass about it. I believe his exact words were, ‘I don’t know why anyone would ever want to waste their money on college.’”

Jay and Damian both chuckled.

“Anyhow, it wasn’t the end of our relationship, and I became John’s protégé. Completely changed my life.”

Jay said, “And what’s the moral of the story? That I should tell you what you think is going on, because you’ll probably surprise me and be understanding and solve all the problems you think I have?”

Michael smiled lightly and nodded. “Something like that.”

Jay shook his head. “You’re a marketing genius, but you can’t solve everyone’s problems.”

“If I’m such a marketing genius, why did you drop me like plague-infested vermin, without even a word?”

“That had nothing to do with you,” Jay said.

Damian finished his task and began to descend the ladder. Jay and Michael were each leaning, one against the desk, one against the wall, each at the same angle.

“So you were happy with how the campaign was going?” Michael asked.

“Very happy,” Jay said.

“So that’s why you stopped it.”

“No, the reason we stopped it—“ Jay apparently couldn’t find the words to express what he needed to say next.

Marvin apparently couldn’t find the words to express what he wanted to say next. He told Clyde they’d have to get back to her. Then he hung up.

Clyde stood, staring out into her back yard. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, producing a small shower of red and orange confetti each time it blew.

She sighed and wondered what it all meant.

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Chapter 2