The stack of three-by-five cards with phone numbers and contact info were stale, old, deadbeat and misleading. There was no way in hell Edmond was going to find someone to listen to his pitch; most of the time people would hang up or yell at him.
“"It’s a numbers game,”" Dave said. “"Ninety-nine percent of the time you’ll meet rejection. You live for that one percent when a sale is made; you make your living off that one percent; we keep this firm going on that one percent. You can’t let it get to you;, you can’t let it turn your mind into gooey shit. You dial and dial and talk and talk. The hours will be long and you won’t see much of your old lady. But let me tell you, when you get that first commission check, and that check is twenty, thirty, forty grand, the pain all goes away. You want to know what I made last month? Seventy-eight thousand dollars. Month before that, sixty-two. Before that, seventy-one. You don’t believe me? I’ll show you my fucking pay stubs. There are guys in here that pull paychecks in excess of a hundred grand. There are millionaires in this room with you. Think about that.”"
There was no sitting down on this job; you worked the phones standing up, walking around. Nearly a hundred men in the giant bull pen, computers everywhere, ticker signs running, mouths moving like little machines. Edmond had never been in a place with such concentrated energy. Everyone fed off each other, fueling one another, keeping the enthusiasm up. Bradford would walk in every half hour, look around, and find something wrong. “"What the fuck you doing?!? Why aren’t you selling?!? This is America, where we make money! Only in America do we create money out of thin air; everyone else in the world slaves for it!”" Bradford would also give pep talks about certain junk bonds. He paid incentive bonuses to his top sellers in cold hard cash.
“"Here,”" he’d go, “"have ten grand in new one hundred dollar bills. Go buy yourself a really expensive bottle of champagne. Go buy your bitch something real nice.”"
All day, the men around him talked about the money they made; and they all loved to spend it. Every Friday, someone’s name was drawn from a hat and that broker would pay for dinner and drinks. Mark encouraged Edmond to join the Friday night gang, make friends, learn the moves. Edmond was treated to very pricey booze and $50 steaks. He watched the wait staff get two thousand dollar tips. The brokers pissed their money away like forgotten dreams, knowing that tomorrow they’d earn it all back.
And Edmond would walk or take the subway home - beat, confused and destitute. He would come home late and Ivy would be asleep; he’d climb into bed next to her and say, “"I don’t think I know what money is.”"
He brought Ivy to a Friday night gathering once. Everyone was told to bring along the wife or mistress or significant other. “"It’s bitch night, boys!”" Ivy was a hit, wearing a light blue mini dress and high heels, her hair spiked out in every direction. Mark was particularly enamored with her; he kissed her hand when she arrived and when she left. At work, Mark said, “"Eddy, your chick is hot.”"
“"Thanks.”"
“"Where did you find her?”"
“"In my Christmas stocking.”"
“"She got a sister?”"
“"She has a brother, if you’re interested.”"
“"Hey, fucker, you know I don’t swing that way. You don’t swing that way, do you?”"
Every day, Mark would ask about Ivy; little things, like what she wore that day, what she watched on TV, what she had for dinner. Mark said something about how great her body must look naked, and Edmond said, “"I have pictures. She looks marvelous, let me tell you.”"
“"Pictures? Nude pictures?”"
“"Um.”"
“"No shit?”"
“"Yeah.”"
“"I don’t believe you.”"
Edmond brought the pictures to work; he only showed them to Mark. Some were in color, some black-and-white. Mark rolled his eyes and whistled. He asked, “"You take these?”"
“"Yeah.”"
“"You’re good with the camera.”"
“"I goof around.”"
“"You got a dark room?”"
“"Had a make-shift one in San Diego but not here.”"
“"These are very nice, Eddy. Can I keep one?”"
“"Oh, I don’t know.”"
“"C’mon.”"
“"I don’t think I should.”"
“"Why?”"
“"Ivy.”"
“"She’ll never know,”" Mark said, “"if you don’t tell her.”" Edmond was still hesitant. “"Two hundred bucks,”" Mark said and took out his wallet, a wallet stuffed with cash.
“"Two hundred?”" said Edmond. “"For a picture?”"
“"Make it five for two.”"
Edmond couldn’t pass on five hundred dollars. Mark chose two Ivy pics in the raw and gave Edmond ten fifties, crisp and wrinkled bills alike.
“"This is the first time I’ve been paid for my photographs,”" Edmond said. He felt like a pimp.
“"Hey, now you’re a pro,”" Mark said.
Ivy & Mark
Ivy was used to the attention and suggestions of men; she knew how to keep them at bay and she knew all the little tricks they liked to play. She didn’t know why she didn’t see it coming with Mark Gerrick; maybe she was too preoccupied with matters at work; maybe she didn’t anticipate the gall. Mark was a cocky guy. One evening Edmond and Mark came by the apartment and talked her into going to a bar for a drink. It was more like five or six drinks. Mark was very flirtatious and even made a comment about her “"nice round ass.”" Edmond didn’t seem to mind and they were all laughing: just friends out having a good time. Ivy, of course, had no idea that Mark possessed two nude photos of her. (Edmond had no idea that Mark had the photos taped to the wall by his bed and he would often masturbate looking at them.)
She didn’t think it was weird when Mark called her at work and asked if he could buy her lunch. “"Don’t say no,”" he said, “"I happen to be in the neighborhood and I’m starving and who the hell wants to eat alone?”"
She was hungry, had skipped breakfast; she thought Mark was being nice, maybe he wanted to talk about Edmond and his future as a stockbroker. What she really wanted was the grilled chicken club sandwich at the deli two blocks down. She told Mark to meet her there in ten minutes. He had two beers on a table when she arrived.
“"I can’t drink during the day,”" she said.
“"Just one.”"
“"Beer is too heavy.”"
“"Wine?”"
“"I’ll have a Diet Pepsi.”"
“"Two beers for me then,”" he said, smiling, guzzling the first one down. He didn’t waste time telling her what was on his mind once their food was served. “"You’re in my head day and night,”" he told her, “"and I think it will, soon, drive me crazy.”"
With a mouthful of food, Ivy looked at him curiously and said, “"What?”"
He reached out to take her hand. “"You’re the woman of my dreams. How much more blunt can I be?”"
“"Mark,”" she said, “"I live with Ed.”"
“"So,”" he said.
“"So?”" she said.
“"There’s chemistry between us,”" he said, “"you can’t deny that.”"
“"What makes you think this is true?”"
“"I’ve felt it.”"
“"I’m sorry,”" she said very seriously, “"but it’s not there.”"
She started to think about his kissing her hand the first time they met, his impudent behavior when they went to the bar. Had she given him false signals? Had she said something that he took to be more than it was?
“"That’s not true,”" Mark said, looking at his food. He glanced up and said, “"I feel it, between us.”"
“"I need to get back to work, Mark.”"
“"No. Wait. Sit. Please sit. Finish your food.”"
“"Thanks for lunch, but…”"
“"Don’t go. Hear me out.”"
She sighed.
“"You look so beautiful,”" he said, “"in this light.”"
She s
tared at her food.
“"I want to make love to you.”"
“"I have to go.”"
“"Why do you want to run away?”"
“"I want to get back to the office.”"
“"You’re in denial. You want to run away from your true life. You know you have feelings for me.”"
“"Mark,”" she said, “"I don’t even know you.”"
“"Then get to know me. I’ll make a bold and brash suggestion here. We go to a hotel suite. I’ll get the best suite in town. All I want is one hour. One hour to fuck you; —to make love to you. Once we have sex, you’ll know. You’ll know who you belong with. You’ll know what your life should be, what destiny means.”"
“"Do you have any idea what you sound like?”" she asked him, very seriously.
“"Tell me, sweetheart.”"
“"A madman.”"
“"A man in love.”"
“"Have you forgotten about Edmond? Your friend?”"
“"He’s not my friend. We work together. He’s a guy I know. I know a lot of guys.”"
“"And do you hit on their girlfriends? Their wives?”"
“"They hit on me.”"
“"You know what,”" she said, standing, “"you make me sick. I took two bites out of that sandwich and already I want to puke.”"
“"Sit down.”"
“"I’ll stand, thank you. I’ll walk away, thank you.”" She started to go, then turned. “"And what if I tell Edmond about this?”"
“"Tell him, and I’ll make sure he’s fired. He can go back to bartending.”"
“"You’re a real jerk.”"
“"Oh, c’mon. I was joking. There’s no need to tell Eddy. We can go to that hotel and fuck and you don’t need to tell him. Do you think he tells you everything?”"
“"You gave it your best shot. You made the proposition, and I’m turning it down. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”"
Mark thought about it for a moment, and then said, “"Okay. Shake hands on it? No hard feelings?”"
She shook his hand. He moved to kiss the back of her hand. “"Your skin smells like heaven,”" he said.
She didn’t tell Edmond about the incident, didn’t see the point. No harm was caused and Edmond thought the guy was his pal.
That Friday night, Mark showed up at the door of her apartment, knocking loudly. Ivy looked in the peephole. She didn’t like seeing Mark. Edmond was on the Friday night thing with the boys from work.
“"Go away,”" she whispered.
“"Ivy?”" he said into the door.
“"Yes?”"
“"Open up.”"
“"What is it? Why are you here?”"
“"I’m here because Eddy told me to come over. Isn’t he there?”"
“"No.”"
“"He said he would be.”"
She opened the door, leaving the hook-latch on. She could smell booze on Mark. He smiled and said, “"Hi, pretty girl.”"
“"My boyfriend,”" she told him, “"is not home, and he didn’t call to say he was coming home or that he invited company.”"
“"I hope nothing happened to him.”"
“"I’m sure he’s okay.”"
“"Can I come in?”"
“"I don’t think that would be a good idea.”"
“"We can wait for him.”"
“"You know what,”" she said slowly, “"I don’t believe you.”"
“"Are you implying that you don’t trust me?”"
“"I’m saying that you should go.”"
“"This isn’t going so swell, this thing between you and me.”"
“"There is no ‘thing,’”" she said sternly. “"There is no ‘you and me.’”"
“"There will be, you know. It’s manifest inevitability.”"
She closed the door and locked it. He kicked the door.
“"Let me in you goddamn stuck-up bitch!”"
“"If you don’t go away right now, I’m going to call the police.”"
She could hear his breathing as he thought about this. He said, “"You wouldn’t do that.”"
“"Yes I would.”"
“"I’m not a monster.”"
“"You’re acting like one.”"
“"I’m sorry,”" he said. “"Ivy, I really am sorry. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”"
“"Go home.”"
“"Can I use your bathroom?”"
“"No.”"
“"I really need to pee.”"
“"There’s an alley in back.”"
“"I can’t stop thinking about you.”"
“"Three seconds, or I call the cops and you can pee in jail.”"
She heard him walk away. She was scared. She expected him to come back any minute, maybe smash the door in. She looked out the window and saw Mark walk down the street. She felt bad. What had she done to bring this on? How was she going to tell Edmond about it? She had to let him know; but when her boyfriend came home she again chose to keep the matter to herself.
Mark started to send her flowers at work; they came every day.; Tthey were elaborate assortments that cost a lot of money. The first one had a small card that apologized for his actions. Then the notes started to tell her things about predestination, true love and economics.
With me, one note said, you’ll be rich. Eddy will never be rich.
Ivy’s co-workers started to think her boyfriend was rich. Some of the floral arrangements were in the $200-300 range. “"That live-in of yours starting to make money on Wall Street?”" they asked. She smiled and shrugged; she didn’t want anyone to know she had an obsessive admirer. Or was he a stalker? She hoped it would stop, but after two weeks the flowers kept coming so she started sending them back with the delivery driver.
“"What should do with them?”" the driver asked.
“"Donate them to the hospital,”" Ivy said. “"I don’t want you to bring these to me again. I won’t take them.”"
“"I have to deliver them, lady. It’s what I do. It’s my job.”"
“"Give them to your wife.”"
“"I don’t have a wife.”"
“"Girlfriend.”"
“"I’m a fag, lady.”"
“"Then give them to,”" and she sighed. “"Toss them in the trash.”"
“"What am I supposed to tell my boss?”"
She called the boss and explained the situation.
“"They’re bought and paid for,”" the floral store boss said. “"Good money is being spent here.”"
“"Listen,”" Ivy said, “"do not, I repeat do not accept this guy’s order.”"
“"Not take his money? I can’t do that.”"
“"Do not, I repeat do not deliver the order.”"
“"What should I tell him?”"
“"Tell him to get a fucking life,”" Ivy said.
Mark had the flowers re-delivered to the apartment. Edmond was there the day a thousand dollars worth of backlogged undelivered roses, daises and tulips showed up, along with Mark’s many notes.
To this, all Edmond could say was: “"What the hell?”"
“"I have something to tell you,”" Ivy said, and she told him everything. Edmond was stunned, but he wasn’t surprised. He knew Mark was attracted to Ivy, but so were other men. They didn’t do crazy shit.
“"I wish you had told me earlier,”" he said.
“"Well, I didn’t. That doesn’t matter. What matters is right now.”"
“"I have to talk to him.”"
“"And tell him what?”"
“"I have to let him know he’s making a fool of himself.”"
“"Maybe you shouldn’t.”"
“"It’ll be okay.”"
“"Are you mad?”"
He smiled. “"It’s not like I’m going to get into a fist-fight with him. I’ll tell him what’s what, that’s all. I’ll tell him to lay off.”"
Ivy was skeptical and paced about the apartment when Edmond called Mark at home. He wasn’t there. He tried Mark’s line at the office.
“"Good, he’s n
ot around,”" Ivy said. “"Let’s get rid of this junk,”" nodding at all the flowers, “"and forget it.”"
“"I think I know where he is.”"
“"No you don’t.”"
“"I’ll go check, and if he’s not there—”"
“"You’ll come right home?”"
“"Yes.”"
“"You promise?”"
“"Yes.”"
A Sock in the Nose
He went down to the basement bar where he had recently worked. Mark was there with a couple of guys from the firm. He smiled and said hello to all, ordered a Tom Collins, and asked Mark if they could speak in private. Mark acted like nothing was wrong; the two sat in a booth and Mark said, “"Do you like money, Eddy?”"
“"Listen.”"
“"You listen. Answer me: do you like money?”"
“"Who doesn’t?”"
“"Do you love it?”"
“"Who doesn’t,”" Edmond said cautiously.
“"If you want to be rich someday,”" Mark said, “"don’t do or say anything you’ll come to regret. Don’t piss the wrong people off, and don’t make waves. You know what I mean?”"
“"Thanks for all the flowers, Mark. I had no idea you felt that way about me.”"
“"Who knew I was a queer. You know about queers, don’t you? Brad hates them. Won’t have them around. Guys who get caught being queer, faggots who slip by and get hired - they immediately get fired.”"
“"I’m afraid I must inform you that I’m taken,”" said Edmond. “"I’m in a committed, loving relationship. I appreciate the interest, but I’m devoted. My heart belongs to her and only her. One day, we’ll get married.”"
“"Did you propose?”"
“"We’ve talked about it, when our careers are settled.”"
“"You’re a lucky man, then.”"
“"I think I am. Maybe I haven’t been realizing it lately, but I am. I’m not alone.”"
“"Being alone sucks,”" Mark said in a tough voice.
“"You won’t always be alone.”"
“"I’m sorry for what I have done. I feel terrible. It’s not right.”"
“"Forget it, okay?”"
“"We’re cool?”"
“"We’re very cool.”"
“"Shake on it?”"
Edmond shook Mark’s hand. Mark yanked him forward, and with his other hand made a fist and punched Edmond in the nose. Edmond was in pain. He covered his nose, which was bleeding and swelling up.
This Other Eden Page 4