by Pat Henshaw
“The new group of homosexuals. They’re like locusts. They come in and take over.”
“Locusts don’t take over,” I grumped. He was making my head hurt.
“Sure they do.”
“They might eat everything in sight, but they don’t take over,” I said.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Mack, I don’t know.” I rubbed my face, then looked at him. “How much money have you made from these locusts?”
He glowered back at me.
“A lot, right? Probably put you solidly in the black for once, right?” Hand down face again. “And you’re complaining?”
“Still. It’s not right.”
“Says?”
He looked away from me, his face turning a little pink. “The minister at church.”
I gave a snort. “The dried-up old asshole you were voting out about six months ago before his wife got ill? The one you bad-mouthed a year ago because he was on a tear about… what was it? The elementary principal not liking Christian kids and not giving them a break? I didn’t think you’d give him or what he says another chance.”
Now Mack was solid red. Face, hair, freckles.
“Well, now he’s telling us the Bible says….”
I snorted again. “Let’s see. To recap, Jesus says love everybody. Don’t remember hearing an ‘except’ at the end there—at least not by Jesus. But wait! Ministers are fast to remind you to take the Bible serious and literal except those parts the ministers say aren’t supposed to be taken serious. You want to explain all this to me?”
Mack was one of those kids in school who told people I was dumb, too stupid to be believed because of the kids I hung with. He and a couple of the other assholes in the popular crowd saw my satellites as losers, and I was the head loser—the loser leader—by extension.
When I took over the business, I did the Christian thing even though the Behrs didn’t usually darken the doors of an organized church. Or a disorganized one, for that matter. I forgave and forgot. I hired Mack’s father and then Mack himself. Whenever I saw him these days, Mack acted like we’d been lifelong friends. Friends, my ass.
Now he was hating on a whole new group of people. He and the old crowd around here made me sick.
“Look,” I said, staring at him until he met my eyes. “You have a right to your opinion, bigoted as it may be. But don’t drag me into your hate campaign. And don’t expect me to turn another cheek like I did when I became head of the company. You can decide to hate the gay community if you want, but don’t expect to paint their houses. And if you think about it, that’s where the work is these days. You just sit and stew about the ‘good old days’ and leave me out of your Christian agenda.”
I got up and walked away before he could say anything. Don’t poke the bear, I wanted to tell him. You poke the bear, the bear’ll strike back. Mack could find his own damn jobs from now on. He was off the Behr Construction preferred list.
MACK SENT me a note of apology and a couple tickets to a Kings’ game the next day. He said he liked working with Behr and didn’t want to sever our connection.
Right, I thought. Bad-mouth me in school and bad-mouth guys I like now and feel are friends, and a couple tickets are going to make us okay? Don’t count on it, buddy.
I didn’t return his note. I had Connor take his crews off the Behr jobs they were on. God knows there were enough painters in the area looking for work.
I suggested Connor interview two Latino companies, both of whom told him point-blank they had no problem working with gay clients. He sent each of them to a job where he’d removed Mack’s crews. I had him make it clear that if they had any trouble on the job, they were to red phone me.
Then I asked Connor to meet with the other local groups Behr outsourced work to when family couldn’t get to the jobs. To a man, they all said they had no problem working with gay clients. I got the feeling they’d say anything to keep on good terms with Behr Construction since most of them had slurred me and my brothers in school. Until they did something overt or said something out of line, we would give them the benefit of the doubt.
Still, I could feel the air around me changing.
MY MEETING with Lorraine and Bud went smoother than the one with Mack.
They were shocked to hear Junior wanted to work construction instead of hang around the cafe. Given my love of Bud’s desserts, I assured them I was too.
“But construction’s hard work,” Lorraine worried.
“I think that’s the point,” Bud said, shaking his head. “He wants to look like Abe. Shit, I wanted to look like Abe in school too.”
I was surprised. Why would anybody want to be big and hairy?
Lorraine put her arms around Bud. “No, sweetie, we love you the way you are.”
Bud blushed, and I hurried in to his rescue.
“Your son’s a teenager,” I said. “He wants to break away from his folks and be his own person.”
They looked at each other and nodded.
“I have an idea about helping him do it.”
I explained about dropping the nickname and offered the afterschool work option. We agreed it was all doable, and Larry was born. Bud gave me a huge piece of pie as payment for my help. It was a win-win deal.
I didn’t mention Larry being gay. It was his news to deliver.
NEXT I set up a picnic with the entire family and intended to go to a meeting of the Old Town businesses. Although I sat alone at night mulling over both of them, I was ready to express my views and probably surprise some people who thought they knew me very, very well.
The family met at the old homestead. It’s a rambling mess of a house where Ben and Connor were living with a revolving supply of cousins and friends of cousins. The open-door policy was one of the top reasons I moved out so many years ago. Between the steady in and out of relatives and friends of relatives, and the lack of household upkeep, my temper stayed in the red zone most of the time. For some reason, everyone assumed since I’m the head of the family, the chores and maintenance rested on me. I figured if I was going to do the work, it’d be better to do housekeeping in my own place.
We couldn’t get the entire family comfortably in one room inside the house, so the meeting took place outside in the backyard. The property includes a grove of mountain ash and pine with a good-sized clearing right off the back porch. If everyone brought a folding chair, we could spread out and be comfortable. I sat on the back steps so everyone could see me.
With our plates piled high with food catered by a gay company—although I’m pretty sure I was the only one who knew it since I’d hired them—I let the noise and chaos fold over me. This was the kind of get-together my dad always wanted us to have, only he was too drunk to organize it and I didn’t have the time or energy.
He told me once, “Boy, your grandfather said there’s nothing like family to keep a man grounded. Never forget it.” Several things wrong with what he said. First off, he never knew my name, never once called me “Abe” or “Abraham.” Couldn’t complain, though, because he never called Ben, Connor, or Dom by their names either. It was just “boy” this and “boy” that. No “son” ever.
Second thing wrong was my old man was the least grounded guy you’ll ever meet. He was a curmudgeon of the first order and would spit on a relative faster than the relative could get out of his way. Relatives might have grounded some people, but not Old Man Behr.
Thirdly, the Behr relatives have always been an ungrateful lot. From the get-go, they’ve been conniving and deceitful, so I never really blamed my dad for his attitude. Until this siphoning of money, though, they were in-your-face about it. Wasn’t unusual for some older guy to come up to me at a jobsite and say, “We’ll be taking off now. It’s twofer night at the Limelight.” Then he and the older contingent would walk. Me and the younger guys would be stuck finishing the day’s work—which meant I’d get home beat, after dark more often than not.
My dad’s answer when I complain
ed? “They’re relatives. What can you do?” Then he’d shrug and get himself another drink.
I’d had enough. What could I do? I could make drastic changes. That’s what I could do.
I put my plate and my cup aside and stood. Some of the group looked up.
“Things are changing here in Stone Acres,” I said, not waiting for everyone to quiet down. I figured either they were interested in what I was going to say or they weren’t. Passing around a bunch of “Shhh, he’s talking” wouldn’t make the ones who didn’t want to hear listen up.
“There’s been talk about Behr Construction befriending gays, working with gays, and generally being on the side of gays. I just wanted to get this straight for anybody who might be concerned about the rumors. Behr Construction is gay friendly and hate free.” In the wake of silence, a little wave of talk started up. “You’ll get your say in a minute. I just wanted to make the company’s stance clear from the start.
“I also want to remind you of my father’s will. I am the head of this company. I answer to no one. The buck really does stop here. If any of you want to quit and form your own company, more power to you. Just remember, you can’t use the name Behr in any combination for your new company unless you start the company at least two hundred and fifty miles away.
“If you want to keep working for me and this company, know you’ll be working with and for gay, lesbian, transgender—well, for anybody and everybody who hires us. You’ll be nice, polite, work hard, and give them value for their dollars. You won’t hate talk in public anytime or anywhere. You’ll be fired on the spot if you do.”
I looked out at the tiny sea of faces, listened to the kids running around playing, smelled the wood smoke, and saw the changing trees. Some of my employees were staring with open mouths. One or two looked belligerent and unhappy. Cousin Gary stood in the middle of a group of guys our age. Whether they worked for me or not, everyone here was related to someone who was on the Behr payroll.
“Now if any of you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”
“Yeah, Abe. I got a question,” Gary shouted up at me. Considering I hadn’t raised my voice, his yell made a bunch of folks jump. At my nod, he stepped out of his group of friends. He planted his feet and struck a pose almost like a warrior readying himself for battle.
“A bunch of us think it’s about time for this family business to be run by family, not just you.” He started to take a breath.
“Who said this is a family business?” I shot back at him.
Now he gave me an owl face. He blinked a couple of times and looked at his pals.
“It’s not a family business?” Everybody could hear the unspoken questions in his voice.
“It’s Behr Construction, and I’m the CEO, Abraham Behr. Nowhere in any of the paperwork about the company does it say Behr Family Construction. Nowhere does it say the majority of employees have to be Behrs or related to Behrs. It’s been the policy in the past. If it’s not working for everyone, I’m open to having the company stop giving preference to Behr relatives. Your choice.” I looked out over the stunned faces.
“You wouldn’t fire family, would you?” my shrewish cousin Marisa, Gary’s sister, asked. Her tone dared me to tell her how I really felt, so I did.
“Yes.” I stopped and scanned the shocked faces and heard the buzz of furious whispering. “I’ve been going over the books lately. As you probably know, I brought in an accountant, who’s putting the company on a better reporting system. I’ve noticed a lot of five- and six-hour days being written off as eight hours or overtime. It’s going to stop. I’ve noticed a lot of padding of supplies, supplies which have probably ended up in your houses. It’s going to stop. I could go on, but you get the picture.
“If there are any more questions, I’ll answer them now.”
Marisa had her fists on her hips. She was about to light into me. Not only her lazy-ass husband, Yancy, and her three sons, but a few of Yancy’s siblings and cousins worked on and off for Behr.
“Now, you see here, Abe,” she started. “You can’t do this. You can’t just go firing family and have us stand around and watch.”
“Yes, I can. What are you going to do about it, Marisa?” I’d called the company attorney, who was not related to anybody in the backyard, and knew I was right. I could do anything I liked with the company.
“Well, I’m going to….” She stopped, a surprised look on her face. Evidently no one had ever called Marisa on her belligerence and railroading tactics before.
“Yes?” I was leaning against the back door of the house now, tired of all of them. Their greedy, shocked faces were scrambling to back away from the threats, to get past this meeting and return to the status quo, where men and boys came to work when they felt like it and picked up their full paychecks at the end of the week no matter how many hours they actually worked.
“I have one more thing to say, so listen up.” I took a breath and reminded myself I was only minutes away from escaping from this ungrateful bunch. “I’m cutting checks Sunday night starting at seven thirty. If anyone wants to quit and get their severance pay, e-mail me before then. It has to be an e-mail. If you quit after Sunday, know that you’ll get your pay owed but no severance. So you have a couple days to make up your minds. Talk it over with your families and partners. You’ll get your paychecks on Monday night. Now have fun at the party.”
I turned, opened the door, and walked into the house. The stunned silence of the grown-ups, bracketed by the squeals of the children, followed me. As I shut the door, I could hear the murmuring start.
Ben and Connor dogged me almost at a run.
“What the fuck, Abe?” Ben shouted. “What was that all about? Why didn’t you tell us what you were going to do?”
Connor was leaning against the kitchen cabinets, a guarded look on his face. Ben was absolutely livid. I got a cola from the fridge and turned to them.
“I’m tired of the hate around this place. You know as well as I do if it wasn’t the gays, it would be the Mexicans or the Chinese or, I don’t know, pick a group. The gays are just another of a long line of people the old white families around here hate.” I wiped some of the condensation from the soda can and slid my hand down my face. The cool water felt good.
“I’m tired of being robbed by my smugass family, who seem to think company money and supplies are owed them just because they are related to me. I’m trying to run a legitimate business here, but seem to be running a free-for-all with no rules, no guidelines. They can bad-mouth anybody anytime. You want to make some money in the valley here? Be related to the Behrs and get on the gravy train. I’m tired of it. Real tired. Aren’t you tired of it too?
“Why didn’t I tell you? I didn’t want you to accidentally let it slip. Then you’d have been on the hate end of the stick like I was out there.”
Ben was staring at me like I’d changed into something he didn’t recognize. Oddly, he didn’t look like anybody I knew either. I glanced from him to Connor and back again. Neither of them was the brother I knew as a kid. We’d all grown, changed, slid away from each other.
There once was a time we’d hung out after school when we weren’t working. Sure, I was their big brother, but I’d been their friend too. Hadn’t I? Or was I kidding myself? Had I really always been the lone bear trying to keep the cave together, trying to keep my brothers safe, trying to keep our old man out of jail? Had the last few months been me finding myself again, distancing myself from what I used to think made me me? All I knew for certain was I was right about the hate talk and nasty attitudes. I was right about relatives taking advantage of me and the company. I was right about figuring out who I was and what I wanted.
Change was in the air, and I took a long, satisfied whiff of it.
THE E-MAILS started coming that night and continued for the next couple of days. They ran the gamut from Screw you and your little dog too to You’re right. You tell them, boss!
I took the names of those who d
idn’t feel they needed a steady job in an iffy economy off the roster and kept the ones who said they wanted to stay. In the end I’d purged about a third of the employees. I was surprised when Cousin Gary and Marisa’s husband and extended family stayed.
My private discussion with Ben and Connor after my announcement had lasted about two minutes. Then we were overrun by relatives gab, gab, gabbing away. I’d left before I’d gotten a chance to hear what my brothers had to say. I didn’t see them until Monday morning. Both of them and Jeff were waiting in my office when I got there.
Nobody seemed to be talking. They sat like stone sculptures, and I could feel the freeze from the doorway. I hadn’t seen Jeff for weeks and realized I’d missed him. Where this feeling would have panicked me before, it made me feel human now. I wasn’t just an old, stoic bear. I was upgraded to a horny old man instead.
“Morning,” I said, taking off and hanging up my jacket. I put the payroll checks on my desk. “So what’s on the agenda this fine morning?”
They all blinked at me. My happiness seemed to shock my brothers and bring a smile to Jeff’s eyes. I sat down behind my desk and looked at Ben.
“Sorry I left you in the lurch on Friday night. I wasn’t ready to have people gang up on me and harangue me. Hope they didn’t stay too late.” I smiled at him.
Ben’s face registered his surprise. I’d never left them holding the bag before. “Uh, no. No problem. Mostly everyone was, well, trying to get Connor and me to change your mind.”
“We said you’re the boss and what you say goes,” Connor added. “There was a lot of complaining.”
Understatement, I knew. There was probably a lot of shouting, yelling, posturing, until everyone realized the Big Behr wasn’t there to hear or see it. Then I imagine they all slunk away muttering threats and leaving Ben and Connor and the catering company to clean up—after taking home the leftover food, beer, wine, and soft drinks. At least this time I’d thought to hire a catering company so the older women didn’t feel like they had to stay and clean while their menfolk bitched and moaned.