*
The silence was long and painful; he used it to wear me down and it was working. The beer hit my throat like a hand on a breast. We had been together four long days and the only thing left was to drive him back the next morning. He was on to me, but I just didn’t know by how much. He would choose his mo-ment, getting it over with quickly was not his style; I was going to have to wait for him.
“You know the place we have in Naples, there are quite a few alligators, especially on the golf course around the water. They don’t attack people too often, do they?” Lucky for me he didn’t have a poker face; he and Carol were really worried about it. “A friend told Carol and I that to escape them you need to run away in a zigzag.” Not even a hint of a smile. I was imagining a fifteen-foot gator biting chunks out of their asses as they ran zigzag through a sand trap.
“Just don’t slip.” Finally a little grin. I really hated him, but I needed coal to keep the flame of hatred strong and bright. “Harry, what do you think of Clinton sending troops to Bosnia?”
“For a draft dodger he is pretty quick on the trig-ger. I don’t think I would want to get mixed up in that mess.”
“It’s kind of depressing though, don’t you think, people getting massacred, genocide. I mean, think about all the money we spend on defense, for what?”
“It’s just not our war, the Democrats love getting us in wars, look at Vietnam.” He observed my guard go down. I was on my third beer and licking the last of my ribs. “Dave and I were talking about your territo-ry.” Dave was the President of Maryland Spice Company. “And we are concerned about your follow up. We feel like you have not be giving the large ac-counts the necessary attention.” I should have just taken it, but the beer rose and I squinted.
“For example.”
“Well John, Kenny Roger’s Roasters. You took a very long time to send in the barbecue sauce sample, and your weekly reports shows you had it three weeks before you gave it to them.”
Someone should do the world a favor and bomb all the headquarters of fast food chains. I thought it but at least I didn’t say it. I was far away, with the perspec-tive to see how ridiculous it was for two grown men to spend an evening together talking about the new Bour-bon-flavored Kenny Roger’s Roasters barbecue sauce. Harry was right, but I couldn’t give in.
“Harry, the technical support person who I have contact with, and who is very happy with our work, asked me to give him a few weeks once I had the sam-ple. They were reviewing all the quality control procedures for their suppliers. I believed him and I waited. I trust my customers and I feel confident enough with them to not have to force them.”
“He’s not a customer yet. But that’s not the point, in general, if you work harder at those accounts, you will get one of them, but you have to make more calls, you have to be more persistent.” Another forced smile. I looked at him and he waited. I wasn’t going to say anything.
“We’re in a growth market, people now have got to work longer and harder than ever before, most women have to work, everyday people are buying more pre-pared foods and are eating out more. This means more seasonings and spices. If you can make good customers now, the hardest part is done. You can later just take care of them and grow with them. Think of a Burger King, if you can become an approved supplier, then help them develop a new sauce for their chicken fingers for example, that could quadruple your salary for five or six years.” I was supposed to be excited. Not that it bothered me to get rich on people gorging themselves with fast food. I could care less. Months to develop a new chip seasoning, maybe try to duplicate someone’s ketchup seasoning, it was ridiculous. The surging ex-pression on my face must have resembled something like pity, when it was really disgust for this man and his existence.
“You keep at it and you will see results. Dave is going to send you to Spain again; he wants you to do some buying. He has a list of paprika suppliers he wants you to see, and you’re also going to see an R&D center for a group that is thinking about breaking into the US market.” I didn’t want to let him see how satis-fied I was. He was looking for a reaction, after a long pause he continued. “It should be about a ten day trip.”
CHAPTER 5
The late summer light was gentle on the manicured lawns and new cars. The new neighborhoods hypno-tized me into driving slowly and carefully. Kerry would have loved it, but they made me nervous; they were the perfect disguise for poorer, tackier pasts full of rental complexes and credit card debt.
From behind the green door appeared the puffy cheeks and soft hands of one of my best clients, Ste-phen Green. The fat on his wrists bulged around the gold watch with diamond studs and more diamonds glittered on a gold ring circling his manicured finger. “Welcome to our house, John.” He planted the crutch and slowly raised the heavy cast, pointing with his head for me to walk through the hallway. An enormous sunken living room opened out of the hall; textured, wood framed furniture subtlety filled the space and very large windows showed the golf course through wooden walls. The kitchen above the living room opened onto it, creating one large space.
“John, how are you?” She said with a genuine smile and a strong Canadian accent. Her skin was deli-cate and shiny; her hair pulled back while her body seemed like it would burst through her clothes. A sweet voice and manners finished off a woman in her mid-forties who was absolutely at the height of her powers. She must have been stunning as a girl, but now she had a grace that met her age. I would normally have avoided an evening with Stephen, but since meet-ing her, I decided to accept.
“Hi Joyce.” I attempted to put as much into a sim-ple smile as I could. When I had taken them to dinner she had worn a long skirt, the perfume was cutting without being sweet, but I was left with a doubt as to her shape below the waist.
“Would you like a Canadian Lager?”
“Great.” She left a head on the beer and brought it down from the kitchen, the arc on the pants was ideal. I was glad I came. She offered her cheek with arms spread, beer in one hand and plate of cheese and sar-dines in the other.
“I love the house, it’s great.”
“Joyce has worked non-stop for months on it. She did the wallpapering, the painting, everything, and she has been taking care of me on top of it.” He had metal coming out of the cast. I hadn’t seen him since he fell of the roof off the house but I had been told he was close to having lost use of the foot.
“You look like you’re doing OK.”
“Thanks, I needed someone to tell me that, it has been a long journey, but I think I’m going to finally make it.” The streets of Brooklyn were a distant echo in his voice, the words a little too well chosen. I hand-ed Joyce the bottle of Rioja and she walked back to the kitchen after giving me an approving smile, a quick glance at the mature yet firm rear filled me with pleas-ure as I sat next to Stephen and readied myself for business.
“Well John, we are here for business as well as pleasure, and we do have some pending issues.”
“Listen, Stephen, on the million pounds of ground number one mustard, you wanted $.205 delivered, right?”
“John, that’s the price I need, and I like you and I like Maryland Spice, but if you go higher I’ll have to look around.” His face exaggerated his words. I would act like an asshole for his benefit.
“Stephen, they told me to fight like hell for the half penny, but I’m not going to jack you around, $.205 de-livered.”
“OK, I appreciate your honesty, but we are not done.” I was starting to feel ridiculous again. “You told me it was steam treated, no ethylene oxide. This is very important. It was my key selling point, it is going into a salami and the Quality Control person wants nothing to do with ethylene oxide.” Ethylene oxide is used to bacteria treat spices in the US, it is banned in Europe and Japan because they consider it a carcinogen. I had said that it was steam treated, but later found out it was treated with EO. Harry told me to lie, that they would
never know the difference.
“I can guarantee you that it is steam treated, we are committed as a company to getting away from ethylene oxide. Should I have them write up the contract.?”
“Please, have it sent Next Day. I want to have the price secured. Have you seen Raj lately?” Raj was his West Indian ex-partner.
“Had lunch with him. I think I’m going to sell him some mustard flower, how are things going for him?”
“Great, and I’m his biggest fan. I want him to do well because I still have an interest in the company; I bought the house and the BMW from what he has al-ready paid me. Let me show you the rest of the house.” He hopped up.
“It’s all right. I can see it later.”
“No, I insist. I need to walk some anyway.” He was proud of the house, too proud of it, and I wasn’t looking forward to the tour. “I bought the house from Tommy Anderson, the tail-back for the Bucs, he got traded and I got a good deal.” He showed me every detail, ending with an explanation of an enormous ste-reo. He put on a Mandy Potemkin Broadway CD full blast, and then he looked at me while I listened, admir-ing my puzzled expression.
The table was impeccably set, cut slices of a pot roast rested on top of each other while Stephen’s plate had a chicken breast, some steamed vegetables and a small salad beside it. “Stephen has to watch what he eats, but you coming was an excuse for me to break the rules a little bit.”
“Darling, I don’t really know how you can fill yourself with so much saturated fat.”
“It’s just one night.” She and I were healthy and hungry and he was starving and fat. I wondered why she was with him; he was wealthy but so were a lot of people.
“You’re Canadian, Joyce, is that right.”
“Yes, John, from Nova Scotia. I grew up in a very rural environment; my father was a lumber jack.
“Do you ever go back, I mean you must miss it. I understand it’s beautiful.”
“It really is, it’s a very different life, we had ani-mals, a garden in the summer, it was much simpler.” She had me completely confused while Stephen looked on with a blank stare.
“How did you meet?” Fair question I thought, the pot roast was tender and juicy. Joyce and I drank wine while Stephen stuck to bottled mineral water. They were one of those couples that have choreographed how they answer certain questions, this one was clearly his and it came out like a comedy routine in a hotel bar.
“I was working in Toronto for General Mustard. I was the national sales manager. I was in a large super-market with my grocery cart trying some olives, Joyce put her olives in my cart and left, we didn’t realize we had each other’s groceries until we got home. We called the store, exchanged phone numbers to return the gro-ceries and that’s how it all started.” I laughed as naturally as I could, wondering how many times he had told it and what she now thought of it.
“Here comes the proud mother.”
“Now Stephen, I just want to show John the new catalog, it’s a mother’s right. This is my son Danny who’s a model, and this is the latest catalog that he’s in.” He was as handsome as she was beautiful and I immediately knew he was from a previous marriage.
“He’s really making headway. I think he is going to have a future.”
“John, this is a very nice wine.” She said it without presumption.
“I can tell from the color, it’s a fine wine. I have a large collection, it’s in a wine refrigerator in the garage. I’ll show it to you later.”
“But can you drink?”
“Once in a while, I just don’t make a habit of it. I subscribe to a few magazines and I try to keep up on the latest trends.”
“Stephen is a real connoisseur.”
“I have just tried some fantastic wines from Israel, really wonderful, weren’t they Joyce?”
“Very good.” She sensed a need to change the subject. “Tell me John, what did you get your degree in?” She knew the answer.
“Biology, but I never really used it. I came close to getting a second BA in American Lit, two classes left.”
“Really, I was an English major. I still teach.” A bond was created, mentally and physically and she was scared by how obvious it was.
“Let’s sit on the porch for coffee.”
“Offer John a drink dear.” She smiled at me as she said it. We had finished the bottle of wine and she could smell the desire in me. She was used to my kind.
“What would you like?”
“A Jack Daniels on the rocks would be great.”
We sat on the now-dark deck. Joyce left with three dogs, his leg was up and I was sipping my drink, grateful that he couldn’t see my face in the dark night. “John, if you don’t mind me asking, how much is Maryland paying you.”
“Forty-six plus the car.” I told the truth for no rea-son.
“I know you have a lot of good spice clients and I’m sure you want to be loyal to Maryland, but if you have any that you can’t get for price or for other reasons I could be of help. I’ve been talking to some old friends at Indian Spice and they have offered me a very interesting brokering deal for spices, any business you send my way directly or by giving me the lead I can give you eight percent.” I wondered how Harry would have responded. I didn’t trust Stephen at all, but then I didn’t trust anyone.
“It’s an interesting offer Stephen, right now I can’t think of anyone in particular, but I’ll keep it in mind.” I had thought of three buyers who bought only on price and I was calculating how much 8% of their business would be.
“If you’re not going to be able to get the business for Maryland there is no harm sending it my way.”
“Sure, I’m helping a customer of Maryland which is good for Maryland.” I couldn’t see his face in the dark but I imagined the moist smile of corruption.
“Of course I would never mention this and you shouldn’t either. It could hurt you down the line.” His soft, sticky threat was grossly intimidating. I sucked on a piece of ice from my second Jack on the rocks and decided to call it a night.
“I apologize for not showing you to the door, the foot is beginning to bother me, thank you for sharing a dinner with us. We really enjoyed your company.” The silence was heavy as I walked slightly behind Joyce. We turned into a hallway that left the patio distant and invisible, entering a tall wide foyer that couldn’t escape being kitsch. The smell of her hair mingled with her perfume and a lightness attacked me from my chest to my loins.
“I had a very nice evening, thank you very much.” She leaned forward to give me a kiss on the cheek, my palm instinctively lowered to touch her waist but landed on her ribs, sending a jolt through me. She looked up, my hand palming her rib cage.
“Drive safely.” I had come dangerously close to moving my hand up, but money is money.
CHAPTER 6
I savored the coffee after a full breakfast in a Cu-ban version of a diner. Spanglish out of the mouths of bottled blondes with large rears and sour faces clad in a cheap replica of a Denny’s uniform. I was on the page before the horoscopes debating whether to skip them while I spread jelly on my last piece of toast. Once on the horoscope page I dodged them, finally reading Ar-ies but not looking at Gemini.
I was afraid of the horoscopes. If it was bad and something went wrong early in the day I would become paranoid, driving badly and generally being a wreck. I had no choice. I was too close to it to leave it.
Gemini (May 22 - June 21)
Health problems could be on the horizon. Watch out at work.
An old flame could reappear igniting a dormant passion.
I knew I shouldn’t have read it. I paid silently, “Thank you.” being a little too much for the recent im-migrant to get out of her frown. The uncontrolled steaming sprawl of Miami overcame me and the car drove itself north. There was only one old flame and she returned, a pleasant and constant memory back after a long respite. She arrived sweet and I felt her in my for
ehead and in my arms, for a moment I imagined I could think of her forever. The strip malls became palm trees and the highway suddenly lifted up into the sky. I rose with little traffic on the interstate above the squalor towards the high-rises of downtown.
I saw the eyes when I thought of her, the pro-nounced puffiness under them left a cloud of sadness over what was otherwise a sweet face. She had the ar-rogance of a beautiful woman, which matured to season the inherent soft ways. The exit was approaching rapid-ly, less than ten seconds to decide. A quick look right and the car swerved across two lanes to the exit . Once descended to the street I was full of doubt.
I had been interested in many women, interests that could last months and even occupy most of my thoughts, but I knew they had no magic potion to make me happy; it was sex and company and maybe a few laughs. There was a time I believed that a woman could give me bliss, pure, palpable happiness, and this was the woman who was going to give it to me. María Begoña Eguren, Begoña. I hadn’t seen her in over three years and only knew where she worked through a friend. I parked in the building and walked across a large patio, the doors intimidating me into having another coffee in a café next door.
It had begun in high school, my last year. I can still feel the energy, the intensity of the most minor en-counter, it never became more, but she grew in me instead of fading. Two summers later I called her out of the blue. We met the next day and there began a summer in which the joy was real. She gave me pleas-ure, her small firm body was pliable in my hands and the eyes looked straight through me, the sadness only making me kinder.
I finished the coffee and walked through the doors and up an escalator, in front of me leaned a large glass case with the names of the law firms and banks in the building. I could see my reflection and I realized I should go the bathroom to spruce up. The gray was ev-ident above the ears. My father said it was one of the few Irish traits I had inherited from him, apart from the drinking. One day, three years after that summer she looked into my eyes and I knew she was gone, the mel-ancholy which always comforted me was now for me.
The fast elevator raced through the floors of the building pulling at my stomach. I moved my shoe on the clean carpet and could see my reflection distorted between the stainless steel panels of the elevator door. I felt her in my shoulders, waking in the early after-noon, French Chardonnays with smoked salmon on toast for breakfast. All out afternoons, the dusk on the bay, her smell. The door opened. I took three steps and stopped, looked right and saw the alluring receptionist guarding the entrance to the lush firm, the ocean wide and blue behind her. I thought about turning around, but her face carried me to her.
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