by Max Cossack
Cali must have noticed something in Gloria’s expression. “Don’t let Humberto’s intimidating demeanor worry you. He’s just staying in character. He’s a method grifter.”
Gloria asked, “And why are you two gentlemen here?”
Cali’s face turned grave, “To repay a debt of honor.”
“To Gus?”
“Yes.”
Gloria asked, “Honor among thieves?”
Cali said, “In fact, there is a code of honor among those we ourselves call ‘grifters’.”
Gus said, “Otherwise known as con men.”
Hack said, “Also, scam artists, chiselers, pettifoggers, and tricksters. Even Illywhackers.”
Cali smiled: “Yes. I know that term. Australian.”
Hack asked, “How do you know that?”
“I have worked my so potent art in that splendid country,” Cali said. “It is dear to my heart.”
“And why am I here?” Gloria asked Gus.
Gus said, “To sell Pafko the painting.”
“Also,” Cali said, “I understand that this Professor Pafko is some kind of communist.”
“Right. The Democratic Communists of America,” Gloria said.
Mattie asked, “Is that like the Democratic Socialists of America?”
Cali said, “Every group has its inside lingo. I must become familiar with Pafko’s.”
“Okay, I can help you with that,” Gloria said. “First lesson—don’t ever compare the Democratic Communists of America with the Democratic Socialists of America. Soren hates them. He’ll go off on you.” Then she asked Cali, “But what do you need this inside lingo for?”
“I will play the role of Abarca and Humberto will be Enrique,” Cali said. ”And therefore I must be able speak the Professor Pafko’s language, If I am to be an effective inside man.”
“Inside what?”
Gus said, “Inside Sam’s house.”
“Who’s Sam?”
Gus said, “Hack’s ex-father-in-law. He’s out of town on a trial for a few weeks, so we’ll use his St. Paul house for the store.”
“Did you get Sam’s permission?” Hack asked Gus.
Gus said, “Sam and I share a long-term ongoing understanding.”
“In other words, no.” Hack said.
“I won’t cavil over details,” Gus said.
Gloria asked, “So this Sam person is a lawyer?”
Mattie said, “He’s Sam Lapidos.”
Gloria looked at Gus. “You have a long-term ongoing understanding with Sam Lapidos?”
Gus shrugged a mock-modest shrug.
One of the few times since kindergarten, Gloria felt like she was lagging behind everyone else in a room. She looked around, “Okay. So, we’re going to use the house of the famous lawyer Sam Lapidos. For what?”
“For the grift,” Mattie said.
“That much I get,” Gloria said. She turned to Gus. “I’ve never been involved in a con game or grift or whatever you call it. But from the movies I’ve seen, it involves a lot of lying. And before we get into this, you’ve got to understand something. I don’t want to lie. And I won’t.”
He said, “Not even to Pafko?”
“No, not even to Pafko.”
Gus grinned. “Don’t fret, Gloria. He’ll do enough lying for both of you.”
13 Hard Bargaining
From:[email protected] 6:37 AM
To: [email protected]
Dear Professor Pafko,
It has come to my attention that recently you purchased from a pseudo-intellectualistic poseur going by the name of Gloria Fiorenzi a painting called “L’Amination”. It is vital and necessary that you understand that this woman acquired the painting under less than honest circumstances and that it is properly my own, as I have a longtime family attachment, a fact which she cannot honestly dispute, although being familiar with her duplicitous nature as I have unfortunately become, I expect she will try to contest this very indisputable truth.
Please reply as to how much you would prefer to receive in exchange for the painting. Although I am by no means wealthy, I am willing to pay a reasonable amount for this work, for which I have only the aforementioned sentimental family attachment and no other interest.
Frederick Roper
From:[email protected] 11:14 AM
To:[email protected]
Hello, Mr. Roper:
I appreciate your inquiry about the painting L’Amination. However, in the short time I have owned this fine work of art, I myself have become quite attached to it. It enjoys a place of honor in my living room.
As you must know, it is an original Alfonso from his pre-surgery period and, given his later success and recognition, has become quite valuable.
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot part with it for any price.
Soren
From:[email protected] 2:42 PM
To: [email protected]
Hello Soren,
I must respect your deep feelings for L’Amination, since I share them. Although we have yet to meet in person, I am happy to learn that you possess the nature of a caring devotee who undoubtedly is taking excellent care of this, my unique family heirloom.
I therefore have faith that if you were to hear the true story of this painting and its deep connection to my personal history, you have also the nature of a of sensitive personage who will relent and part with it for the very reasonable compensation I am prepared to provide.
Can we possibly meet in person? Although I now make my home in Boston, Massachusetts, I am eager to travel to visit with you and tell you my tale, which I am sure you will find fascinating. As it happens, I will be in Minneapolis on business this Thursday and would be very happy to make the short drive from there to your College to discuss.
In the meantime, despite your current reluctance, have you had a chance to consider what hypothetically would constitute a fair price?
Fred
From:[email protected] 4:14 PM
To:[email protected]
Hello Fred,
I am typing this response sitting with my laptop on my lap (excuse the play on words) facing my living room wall. Opposite me hangs the astonishing work we both love. Every so often I glance across the room to wonder at L’Amination, its composition, its use of space, and its shininess, early harbingers of the more fully developed contemporary Alfonso the art world lauds and appreciates today.
I will be very happy to meet you and hopefully to make a new friend, but in all good conscience I feel I must warn you ahead of time that if your journey is only to purchase this work, it will be in vain.
As Proust wrote, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” The Alfonso L’amination has given me new eyes. I can never part with it.
Soren
From:[email protected] 6:57 PM
To: [email protected]
Soren,
How does this Thursday night sound? Seven PM at your home?
Fred
From:[email protected] 8:14 PM
To:[email protected]
Hi Fred,
I do happen to have a few free moments at Seven PM this Thursday. It will be gratifying to meet you, but you are wasting your time if you are coming only to purchase L’Amination.
Soren
From:[email protected] 9:37 PM
To: [email protected]
Soren,
Being a man of action, I will “cut to the chase,” as they say.
When we meet Thursday evening, I will be carrying in my briefcase a cashier’s check made out to you for thirty thousand dollars. At that time, I will be prepared to hand it over to you in exchange for the painting. This is a one-time take-it-or-leave-it offer.
Fred
14 Welcher’s Remorse
Nine AM Wednesday morning, Gloria w
as at her desk in her campus office, red ballpoint in hand, making notes on her outline for her noon seminar on Lust in American Literature: Express or Inexpressible. Without knocking, Soren Pafko slipped open her door and slid into her office and parked himself in her visitor’s chair.
Gus had drilled Gloria on bargaining technique. She let Soren fidget for a time before she looked up.
“Morning, Soren.” She smiled a chipper smile. Gus had mandated relentless affability. Gus was a demanding taskmaster.
Soren beamed at her and said, “You know, Gloria, I’ve been thinking.”
“Excellent.” Instantly Gloria regretted her sarcasm. Soren might pick up on it.
He didn’t. “I’ve been feeling bad.”
“About what?”
“About the whole business with the painting.”
“Oh, that!” she gave a dismissive wave. “Forget about it.”
“I can’t. I feel terrible. I should have followed through.”
“Well, some things can’t be helped.” She smiled harder. “You know, I am kind of busy. Was there anything else?”
He clasped his hands in a prayerful posture and leaned forward in beneficence. “I’ve decided to buy the painting after all.”
“Oh.” She put down her pen. “Really?”
“You bet.”
She said, “I thought you didn’t have the money.”
“I figured out a way. I’ll cut corners.” He brightened. “You know, to corner that market on “L’Amination, if you’ll excuse the play on words.”
“That’s so very generous of you. Are you sure you’re not understating your sacrifices?”
He gave his own dismissive wave. “Not at all. And it’s worth it to me to follow through on a promise.”
“It is sort of ironic,” Gloria said.
“How so?”
“The more I’ve thought about it, the gladder I am the sale didn’t go through.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“Yes. I realize I’ve never sold a single one of my paintings. I’ve kept every work I ever bought. I don’t collect for money. I collect for love. And love dies hard.”
“I understand.” Soren’s smile froze into a grimace.
“I’m sure you do.” She shook her head. “But on the other hand…”
“On the other hand?” His face brightened.
“You know, there is a real world.” She nodded, hoping her expression was rueful. She had introduced Gus to the word “rueful,” which he claimed never to have heard. She and Gus had debated long and hard over its meaning. Gloria had been forced to demonstrate it for him. Now she labored to fill her eyes with rue.
Soren’s eyes met hers. His seemed to reflect her ruefulness right back. “The real world. Yes. Exactly. We have to face reality. All of us.”
“Yes,” she said with even more rue. “My reality is I need money to live. And I’m not exactly rolling in it, as you must realize, since you know exactly how much the College is paying me this year, which as I now suddenly recall, turned out to be not nearly as much as you promised.”
“Beyond my control,” he said. “The Trustees overruled me.”
“And did I complain?” In fact, she had complained, and loudly too, but she guessed Soren wasn’t going to argue about that.
She guessed right. “No, you didn’t complain,” he lied, “And I appreciate your understanding.”
She said, “That’s my reality. And your reality is that after you and I made our original bargain—upon which you ultimately reneged—other buyers offered a lot more. And I turned down all those other buyers.”
“Really? Why?”
She smiled as hard as she could. Her facial muscles—or were they tendons?—were beginning to hurt. “I told myself a deal’s a deal.”
He said, “That was very honorable of you.”
“I’m glad you appreciate that.” She shook her head. “It says a lot about you. In my experience, people who lack honor never understand why other people find it strange.”
“Thank you.” he said. “How much were these other offers?”
“I can’t lie to you. One buyer offered ten thousand dollars.”
Which was true. Gus wanted her to say twenty thousand. Gloria had rejected Gus’s argument that it was “okay to lie to a liar.” For Gloria it wasn’t okay to lie, even to a liar. Otherwise, she pointed out, “Since liars have surrounded me all my life and career, if I followed your rule, I’d be lying all day every day.”
Even Gus couldn’t resist reasoning that powerful.
Pafko swallowed. “Ten thousand dollars? Really?”
She nodded.
“Well, that’s going to be tough for me to match.”
She shrugged. “I suppose. But you know”—she threw her hands in the air.
Both were silent a couple of moments, and then Pafko said, “How about three thousand?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Five?”
She poured on her final dollop of rue. “Sorry. It’ll have to be ten. Or I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I suppose from your point of view that looks fair.”
“Yes, it does.”
“I suppose I could scrape together something close to that. Like eight?”
“Ten,” she said. “In a cashier’s check, please. Made out to me personally.” As Gus had instructed.
Soren pointed to the box leaning against the wall behind her. “Do you mind?”
“Mind what?”
“No offense, but I’d like to check out a painting I’m going to pay ten thousand dollars for.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” Soren said. “But seeing it now will give me a greater opportunity to consider how it’ll fit into our home décor. I’ll need to explain this all to Sylvia.”
“Your décor,” she said. “Of course. But remember when you demanded I bring the painting in person?”
“Oh yeah,” Soren said.
She pointed to the box. “If we unpack it now, and you don’t buy it, what then? I’ll have to have it repacked.”
“In that case, I’ll pay to have it repacked. But I’m going to buy it anyway.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I promise.” He stood up and took a step towards the box.”
“Hold it,” she said.
“What?”
She said, “You’re not really thinking of making a mess like that here in my office, are you?”
“Where would you suggest?”
“How about your office?” she said. “Ten times as much room there.”
She stood and stepped out in front of her desk to give him access. Soren walked to the space she had vacated and picked up the box. She followed him up the two flights of stairs and then down the hall to his office, where he laid it on the big table on the side opposite his private bathroom.
While Soren went to get some tools, Gloria made herself a hot delicious cup from Soren’s Bonavita coffee maker. She seated herself by the window in an easy chair and gazed down at the beautiful young students strolling by, feeling pretty pleased with herself.
Soren returned with a claw hammer and began banging and yanking and hurling chunks of wood and plastic peanuts debris until L’Amination emerged.
“You’re going to have some fun cleaning that up,” she observed.
“Who? Me?” He lifted the painting out of the remnants of the box and leaned it against the wall.
He stepped back to look at it. The painting’s garish colors seemed to shimmer in the sunlight streaming through the window.
“Oh,” he said.
Gloria said nothing.
He walked around back and forth as if to look from different angles. “So this is L’Amination. Worth ten thousand dollars, you think?”
“Alfonso’s developed a great reputation,” she said. “His surgery really put him on the map.”
Then, as Gus instructed, she did what she had finally
agreed to do only after bitter objections. She put her coffee down and stood up and went over to the painting and turned it face against the wall.
Scrawled across the back of the canvas in thick magic marker was one word:
ILIANiUS
“What’s that?” Soren asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said and quickly flipped the painting around again. “Just something I wanted to remember.”
“I thought I saw something,” he said.
“You didn’t.”
“I think I did,” he said. “What was it?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me look again.” He stepped forward.
She shrugged and stepped aside.
He flipped the painting back around again. “What does this word ‘ILIANiUS’ mean?”
“Nothing,” Gloria said. This was a critical moment. Under her no-lying rule, Soren had to take the bait with no dishonest help from her.
“It means nothing?” Soren asked.
“Yes. It adds no value to the painting.” This was true.
Soren looked doubtful. “It reminds me of something,” he said.
“It shouldn’t,” she said, also truthfully.
He shrugged. “Okay then.” He stared at the floor a moment. “Ten thousand it is. How about this afternoon?”
“I didn’t know you were in such a hurry.”
“Do you want the ten thousand or not?”
“Of course.”
“Great! I’ll make a quick trip to the bank and be right back.” Before Gloria could say another word, Soren dashed out the door and turned left and out of her sight.
As Gus had instructed, Gloria picked up the painting and carried it out of Soren’s office. She leaned it against the corridor wall and closed Soren’s door. She heard the snick of a lock. She lugged the painting back down the stairwell to her office. She hung it on the wall behind her desk chair.