An Honest Living

by Ben Mariner

  So what then?

  I stepped out onto the street and turned towards home. Answers would come, I was sure. For now, I needed some rest.

  EIGHT

  “Raskin! In my office, now!”

  My second week of work wasn’t starting out super great. Not only had I not found squat, but I had about twelve tons of North Atlantic cod to move before the end of the day. To top it all off, my boss was pulling me into his office for god knows what. If I was getting my walking papers already, Take would be so pissed.

  Gene Witherspoon, or “Mean” Gene as some of the floor workers called him, was a short man with a bald pate surrounded by a horseshoe of salt and pepper hair, a matching caterpillar of a mustache, and an affinity for white short sleeved button ups that he seemed determine to stain the pits on. I could have probably wrapped one hand around his whole head. If I wasn’t on a mission, I probably wouldn’t have so many qualms about doing so. As it was, I just kind of tuned him out when he got on his spittle flying rants.

  His office was a perfect reflection of his personality. Cheap desk. Cheap chairs. Clichéd motivational poster on the wall. Dead, withering ficus in the corner. It all just screamed “Mean” Gene.

  “Take a seat,” he commanded me, but I remained standing. No way that little chair was going to hold me up. He didn’t even seem to notice. “I called you in here because we need-”

  A clamor rose up from the warehouse behind us. Lots of screaming and crashing.

  “For the love of god,” Gene roared, going scarlet. “If it’s a problem with those damned self-driving trucks again, so help me…”

  He stormed out of the office, leaving me alone. Sure, I could have gone to help, but I suddenly had an excellent opportunity to do some snooping. I chanced a quick look out the door to find a mess of bananas everywhere. Perfect. Gene’s desk was littered with paperwork, so I began rifling through it as quickly as possible. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for, just hoping to see something jump out at me. Didn’t take too much work to find something. Two professionally bound documents with the words PROSPECTUS and BUSINESS PLAN stamped on the front respectively.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” I said, halfway stunned. “I thought crappier Mals were the only ones who were this obvious about things. Might as well have a trap door with trap door written on it.”

  I slid the folders inside my coat and slipped back around the desk just as I heard Gene returning.

  “Get it cleaned up or find new jobs!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  I had just enough time to strike a casual pose that concealed the square bulges under my coat before he came back in.

  “Everything okay, boss?” I asked, trying to sound concerned.

  He huffed. “That damn Jefferson. He’ll be the death of me.”

  I nodded in agreement. “So what can I do for you, boss?”

  Gene plopped down in his chair and took a moment to compose himself.

  “You’re off fish,” he said finally, straightening out his hair.

  “I’m offish, boss?” I knew what he meant, just having a bit of fun.

  “You’re off fish,” he clarified, looking annoyed. “Got a shipment of peanuts coming in in a few hours and seems like you’re the only one who isn’t allergic to the damned things, so I need you to deal with them.”

  I nodded again. “Wherever you need me, boss.”

  “Truck comes in at one,” Gene told me. “Don’t screw it up.”

  “Roger that, boss.”

  I left the office, avoiding some rogue bananas and snuck off to an out of the way corner of the warehouse. When I was sure I was alone, I pulled the folders out of my coat and laid them out on a crate of all natural goji berries. Damn, I had hit the mother lode. This had everything. Investment plans, organizational development plans, marketing strategies. Literally anything you could ever want to know about how a business was being run was in those pages. Why the hell would some lackey like Gene have such important information? A true testament to what a useless cog he was that it was just laying out in the open. I pulled my phone out and started messaging Take, but someone interrupted me.

  “Oh, so sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realize anyone was back here.”

  I panicked and shoved the documents off the crate. They clattered against the wall before falling among the inventory. When I spun around I found Grace Grey looking at me with those crazy blue eyes.

  “Oh, hey,” I said, trying to act natural. “I was just...looking for the goji berries.”

  She wheeled forward a bit. “Seems like you found them.”

  “Yeah,” I replied awkwardly. “I should get back to work, I guess.”

  Maybe I just imagined it, but I thought I saw her eyes dart behind me where the stolen documents were.

  “You’re the one who was crushed by the fish truck, right?” she asked, getting a bit closer still.

  I nodded. “And the guy who bought you a drink.”

  That was a little forward. She smiled at me slyly.

  “Thanks for that.”

  “My pleasure,” I told her. “I need to get back-”

  “I’m curious,” she said, interrupting me. “Did it hurt?”

  “The truck?”

  “The drink.”

  I shrugged. “Only my wallet.”

  “I should apologize,” she continued, closing the last of the gap between us and smiling. “I don’t normally take advantage of the kindness of strangers like that, but I was in something of a hurry.”

  “No problem,” I waved her off.

  “I want to make it up to you,” she offered. “If you’ll allow me.”

  “You want to make it up to me?” She nodded. “You, Grace Grey? The boss’s daughter? You want to make it up to the warehouse worker?”

  “Technically, I’m the boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s daughter,” she said with a wink.

  “Well, uh…” I said dumbly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I guess I’d be a fool to say no to that.”

  Grace rolled back and spun away. “Great. Meet me at The Ninja at eight on Thursday. Don’t be late.”

  She didn’t even give me a chance to reply…or tell me how I was supposed to find the place. The Ninja was something of an urban legend, after all. Before I could even open my mouth, Grace had disappeared from sight.

  A date with Wayne Grey’s daughter. This could be interesting. I collected the documents from where I’d tossed them and found a safer hiding place so I could come back and get them later. In the meantime, I had some nuts to haul.

  NINE

  Turns out that working with peanuts really isn’t any better than working with fish. While dead fish is without question a more objectionable odor, the overwhelmingly distinct earthen smell of peanuts has its own place in the museum of bad smells. Smelling peanuts can bring up memories of ball games or honky tonks, and that’s pleasant enough, but when it’s all you can smell all day every day, when it’s seeping into the fibers of your clothes and into your very pores, it stops conjuring happy thoughts and starts being the stuff of nightmares.

  And don’t even get me started on the dust.

  The whistle blew at half past four. I’m not being folksy. There was an actual whistle installed in the warehouse to designate the shift change. I kind of liked it. It was like being on The Flintstones or something. Oh, or The Jetsons. Working for Mr. Spacely and whatnot. That always seemed like fun. Before I knew it, the internal debate of which fictional world would be more fun to live in - Orbit City or the town of Bedrock - had taken me out of the warehouse. I was halfway home before my phone buzzed and pulled me out of my reverie.

  It was a message from Take.

  My office. ASAP.

  Took her long enough. I told her about the documents I’d smuggled out and figured I’d get a reply almost right away. I mean, that was basically exactly what they were looking for. I was just starting to think that maybe the message hadn’t gone through when the very curt repl
y came through.

  Luckily I was in a position to make an easy adjustment to stop by Winfield Enterprises before going home. Just as I got close, I spotted Lisa leaving the building for the day. She saw me and waved.

  “Hey! There you are…” she started, but a nasty look crossed her face. “What’s that smell?”

  I took a sniff of the sleeve of my pea coat. I didn’t actually smell anything, but that’s only because all I could smell was legumes.

  “Peanuts. They had me hauling the fresh roasted peanuts today because it turns out, I’m one of the only guys in the warehouse without an allergy.”

  “More like you were the newb and got roped into doing the smelly job no one else wanted,” she said wryly. “So this is where you’ve been for the last week? Playing warehouse grunt?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve only been on peanut duty for the last two days. But before that I was hauling fish, so believe me, this ain’t so bad.”

  She looked like she was going to laugh, but didn’t want to because it would have required her to breathe in the peanut smell.

  “I sure hope whatever it is you and Take are working on is worth it.”

  I gave her a smug look, but a moment of self-doubt intruded. I’m sure she noticed but I manage to go back to smug quickly enough.

  “Yeah, I’m getting a lot of...interesting intel.” I replied. “You should see these stores though. Fancy.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Lisa said dismissively. “I’m guessing you haven’t heard the biggest gossip of the week yet, have you, brother dear?”

  I shook my head. “Nah, I’ve been laying low so as not to rouse suspicion. What’s going on around here?”

  My sister put her hands on her hips and struck a goofy ‘Fig pose. “You are looking at the newest member of the Coalition of Evil.”

  “Funny,” I said, unamused. “What’s the real news?”

  “Ugh!” she grumbled and smacked my arm. “That is the real news, jerkwad!”

  “No kidding. Congrats, sis. Really, I’m happy for you.”

  “Don’t get too excited now.”

  I tried to muster up some enthusiasm for her, but it wasn’t really there. I’m not really sure why. This was both of our life’s ambition and she’d finally did it. I should be ecstatic. Especially since I could use her pull to lift my career up a bit. I just wasn’t feeling it. Maybe it was because of Take’s lack of apparent enthusiasm for our mission, or maybe it was the daughter of the city’s most illustrious ‘Fig who had spent so much time in my mind. Whatever it was, my excitement just wasn’t there.

  “Nah, this is good,” I said, patting her on the back. “I’m glad you got this. After all, you ain’t getting any younger.”

  I tried giving her the business so she wouldn’t think too much of it, but I don’t know that it worked all that well. I walked around her and went into the building, and I could still feel her eyes on my back and I made my way through the lobby and rounded a corner.

  The forty-second floor was a ghost town when the elevator door opened. I expected a receptionist, or personal assistant, or something. The door to Take’s office was ajar, so I gave it a knock. There was no answer, but it swung open a bit so I stuck my head through.

  “Hello?” I said to the empty room.

  The office was pretty impressive if not completely furnished. The word cavernous didn’t really do it justice. A single desk sat in front of a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. Pretty stellar view, that was for sure. Being the big boss had its perks. I could actually pick out my apartment building even if it wasn’t much more than a roof among a sea of them.

  “Enjoying the view?” Take’s voice came from behind me.

  I turned around to find her standing on the opposite side of the desk as me. Where she came from, I have no idea. Maybe she had a secret door or something. These billionaires loved their secret doors.

  “Not bad,” I said with a smile.

  “Have a seat, Lane,” she said, moving around the desk to her own chair.

  I sat down across from her.

  “I wanted to thank you for your hard work over at Grey’s warehouse,” Take said professionally. “The documentation you provided has been vital to our plan to infiltrate his operation.”

  “Just doin’ my job,” I admitted.

  She nodded and smiled tightly. “You’re a valuable asset to Winfield Enterprises and the Coalition of Evil.”

  An awkward moment of silence passed between us.

  “Is there anything else?” Take asked eventually, breaking the silence.

  “I guess, I was hoping to talk about the next st-”

  She held up a hand to stop me. “As of now, your mission has been completed.”

  “And my request to take on a nemesis? You said you’d consider it if I agreed to take on this job.”

  Mary Sue’s expression went from professional to impatient. “I’m sorry, Mr. Raskin. While we at Winfield and the Coalition very much appreciate your work, we’ve decided that your talent does not leave you suited to take on such a formidable adversary. Oddball has accepted the task of dealing with this newcomer. You can return to your position in Sales come Monday.”

  I was a little dumbstruck. I was a cog. I got that. Up to now, I was fine with it. But now I was a hundred percent certain that I was done being used by these higher ups.

  “Only one problem there, Ms. Winfield,” I said standing up. “I don’t work here anymore. I quit.”

  I turned and headed for the door, but she called after me.

  “Your position will remain open for when you realize you can’t pay rent without an income.”

  I stopped at the door and turned back to her.

  “I think you’re confused, Ms. Winfield,” I said with a smug smile. “I already have a job.”

  TEN

  It’s hard to figure out the best thing to wear for a date when you’re going to a bar that’s notorious for madness and mayhem. My first instinct was to wear a suit. I wanted to look nice for the daughter of the richest guy in the city. A suit was a little too nice for The Gentleman Ninja though, unless it was a super suit. Besides, I only had the one suit and I didn’t want it getting ruined as collateral damage in some bar fight. I opted for a relatively nice button up and a tie with these cute little steampunk octopi all over it. I also didn’t want to seem completely out of place so I threw on some old jeans and a pair of black and white handball sneakers.

  I stopped by an all-night florist which was almost certainly a front for some kind of Mal activity and bought some flowers. I wanted to do the thing classy. Be a gentleman. Ha. A gentleman at The Gentleman Ninja. See what I did there?

  The Ninja was one of those places you could only find if you knew where to find it. This close to the middle of the city, things were just different. Denser, more packed together, like whoever planned out these neighborhoods wanted to see just how many buildings they could fit per block. The trick to finding a place that didn’t necessarily want to be found was knowing what to look for. Or, in this case, what to smell for. The Ninja was above a bakery that made an amazing butter tart, so all you had to do was tune your nose in to baked goods and then look up. Pretty simple really, except a strong wind could throw you off sometimes.

  A quick glance at my watch told me I was about fifteen minutes early, exactly as I planned. I hopped up the steps to the second floor and a door emblazoned with a hooded figure wearing a monocle. That was some old school class right there.

  Inside, the Ninja was exactly as dimly lit and smoky as I expected it to be. Some jazz was playing on the sound system. Miles Davis maybe. Or Satchmo. Who the hell can tell with jazz? It could have been two fourth graders banging a bag of cats against a kick drum. Either way, it fit the Ninja perfectly. I scanned the room. I didn’t think Grace would be here already, but I didn’t want to assume and be the idiot who sat down and then had to move tables.

  Lo and behold, I spotted her near the back of the bar, her chair parked at a round table. She was
staring at the drink in front of her absentmindedly. I made my way over, ducking a bottle that was meant to hit someone else. She looked stunning in a black dress with white polka dots. Her hair was tied up and she had swapped out her normal glasses for cat eye frames. A pearl necklace polished everything off and she looked exactly in place for The Ninja.

  “You look amazing,” I said in lieu of a greeting, because that’s definitely what normal, non-creepy people do right?

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling. “I like your tie.”

  I shrugged. “This old thing? A gift from a friend.”

  A server appeared out of the smoke like an actual ninja.

  “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” I told him.

  He disappeared as quickly as he came and I turned back to Grace.

  “I didn’t know The Ninja was wheelchair accessible,” I commented. It was a weak attempt at making conversation.

  “It’s not,” she answered, avoiding eye contact.

  I looked at her curiously. “Then how di-”

  “Your drink, sir,” the server said, sidling up on me. He set a half full glass of scotch down in front of me. I could smell the peat without even touching the glass. I hate scotch, but it was too late.

  “We need to put a bell on that guy or something,” I joked when the server was gone.

  Grace laughed and took a sip of her own scotch. “You’d never be able to catch him.”

  It’s funny how something so simple like a stupid joke can instantly lighten the mood. After that, we both felt more relaxed and it was easy to fall into a casual conversation. I’m sure the scotch helped grease the wheels. I was even starting to not completely hate it after the second glass. That’s gotta count for something right?

  I wouldn’t have thought someone so rich and a normal schlub like me would have so much in common, but that just goes to show how you should never judge a book by its cover. Or something like that. There’s definitely a lessoned to be learned, I just don’t know the right proverb to assign to the situation. Win some, lose some. Wait...is that it? Nah, that can’t be right. Anyway, we were hitting it off. That’s what I’m trying to say.