by Melody Clark
"I know on account of the fact I've got the other page and a half." Hamilton swung his club. The ball glanced off the big plastic water lily then toppled into the drink. "Damn! I just can't catch a break today. Your turn to make me look bad again, Thomas."
"No, wait, we need to deal with this first," T.J. said, focusing on the older man. "We were supposed to get the last part of the list later."
"Supposed being the operative word," Ham said with a hint of guilt behind the grin. "Sorry, boys, I had to do a double-cross .... just to put me in a stronger position for negotiation, you understand. Nothing personal. I know how hard Jack here will be dragging his loafers on this deal. I got the last portion in exchange for a shitload of ol' mazuma and a couple of back markers with a promise to me that nobody else will get it. You boys have the first three pages. I got the last parts."
"And you want to negotiate a trade?" Jack asked sharply.
"That's about the size of it. If you boys aren't in the mood now for any more miniature golf then allow me to buy you some lunchtime ptomaine at the Golf and Gulp over by that big, butt-ass ugly lime green thing that's supposed to be the Emerald City. We can discuss the terms for the exchange of hostages. Mind the plastic munchkins as we walk across the bridge."
With that, Hamilton led the way down the yellowish faux-brick road.
"And so we come to the matter at hand," Hamilton said, as he considered his hamburger and curly fries before him. He lifted one of the curly fries, inspecting it as if for defects. "They call these things curly fries for their curious whirligig appearance, I take it?"
"No, they're named after the lead character in Oklahoma," Jack shot back.
A loud laugh rocketed out of Hamilton and then bounced like a pinball around the Quonset hut building. "I swear to god, boy, you missed your calling. You should be writing comedy for Johnny Carson or something."
"That'd be hard," Jack said. "Carson's been dead for years."
"Has he? See, I really gotta read something other than the business section. Anyhow, it's like all this -- you got your pages, I got my page and a half. Jack, I need your vote on Edison-Sobo. As soon as I have that, we can fully exchange information. Until that time we may independently work with the information that we have. The question is how we go about it."
Jack shook his head and sipped at his drink as if he tasted each thought. "If we move on this ... if we do ... we have to do so carefully. We have to carefully plot our course every step of the way. The first step in the journey would be making certain the list is real."
"Oh, it's real all right," Hamilton said. "I don't shell out that much scratch without being danged sure about it."
"What is your idea, Ham?" T.J asked impatiently.
"I say we go to the people on the list," Hamilton said, gesturing expansively over his cheeseburger. "We make clear to them the potential ramifications of the list of names getting out to the press. And we can outline ... ways in which they might assist us in keeping a lid on the information. For everyone's sake."
Jack's mouth dropped open, nearly setting a world gaping record. "Extortion, in other words. And that can win us a decade or so in the Federal pen along with some lovely parting gifts including permanent disbarment."
"Jack, how long have you been practicing law?" Ham said, with a loud guffaw. "You should know by now that when attorneys do it, it's not extortion. Then it's merely discussing the terms of an agreement."
"That doesn't make it right. Or moral."
"No, but it does make it legal if done right. I'm just laying it on the table. Nobody's doin' the boarding house grab for it yet. It may be this tiny immorality might serve a greater good."
T.J. reached out and touched Jack's arm as if for a moment of patience. "How would you suggest we do this, Ham?"
"We could convey to those on the list that their interests and our interests are mutually entwined. The gay ones, Thomas, you can appeal to as brothers and sisters of an oppressed minority. To all of them we can make clear our sensitivity to the delicate nature of this situation. We can reach out to their own sense of compassion and social justice ... appeal to the better angels of their natures. And if that doesn't work, we'll threaten the motherfuckers. Legally, of course."
"How do we know the rest of this list is even worth our time?" Jack asked sharply.
Ham grinned. "Oh, it is. It is, I assure you."
Jack shook his head. "Funny how that doesn't quite cut it for confirmation. We need names."
Hamilton's grin grew large. "How about the Speaker of the House?"
"Perry Malone? Where's the big news in that?" T.J. said sharply. "Everyone knows Perry is gay. First ever openly gay Speaker of the House in fact."
"Yeah, but if he's on there, third in line to the throne, makes you wonder how far up the old royal bloodline it goes, doesn't it?" Hamilton leaned forward to make his point.
“Are you saying the President is on it?” Jack asked.
Hamilton shrugged. “I’m saying I will bring all my influence to bear. Play by my rules, boys, as I've outlined them, and we'll win this thing. We will knock the legs out from under the whole No-Homos Voting Block."
"A little while ago, you said we might win this thing," Jack said darkly. "What makes you so certain we will all of a sudden?"
"Because I have seen the rest of the list," Hamilton said, smiling.
“So the President is on it,” Jack said.
“I can’t answer that question and you know it,” Ham said.
"Okay, are you suggesting we start on our list and you on yours?" T.J. asked. "Is that what you're saying?"
Hamilton nodded. "That is what I recommend, yes. And there's no time like the present to begin. However, there is a very serious point I want to make to you both."
"Yes?" T.J. said, looking with questions toward Jack who seemed just as mystified.
Hamilton looked around them and lowered his voice accordingly. "This list is political dynamite. Careers could be destroyed. Marriages ruined. Plenty of people would like to see this list go away. If I found out you have the list, others will, too. You've both seen the list, I take it, and so you both need to watch yourselves. Keep numerous digital copies somewhere safe. Somewhere else. Many somewheres even, if you know what I mean. And keep in mind, there's safety in numbers."
T.J. looked over at Jack who was already looking over at him. "We will."
Jack slammed the door behind him as they climbed into the car. He waited until they drove out of the parking lot to look over at the driver.
"I cannot believe you're considering his proposal," Jack said as soon as their wheels reached the road.
"I can't believe you're not," T.J. snapped back. "Look, the good people on the list are voting with us anyway. The others are cowards and hypocrites. They work against our interests while hiding behind a facade of false morality so they can enjoy the liberties they would deny to others."
"So you're to be the one to parse the good and the bad?"
"Where hypocrites and cowards are concerned, yes."
"Okay, they're hypocrites and cowards, but they live in shame. They're to be pitied, T.J., not attacked. Are we to just ruin their lives and their families' lives because they don't agree with us?"
"They are attacking us, Jack!" T.J. snarled in reply. "They are trying to ruin us. They're the ones who put their families at risk ... we didn't do it. They put them in the line of fire with their behavior, not us. All of which you'd fucking understand if ..." He made himself stop. As if to avoid the topic, he turned the car up Independence.
"If why?"
"Never mind ... I spoke in anger."
"Don't bullshit me, Tommy. Finish your fucking sentence. If why?"
T.J. aimed a profoundly wounded stare back at him. "All right. If you weren't such a hypocrite yourself."
Jack leaned back, staring hard at him as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "Do I have to remind you that I wrote the initial piece of legislation that you watered down to the consis
tency of pablum and then glad-handed through on your Senate world tour. I was working free for the District gay caucus when you were a legislative frat boy, Senator Jefferson."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"Then how did you mean it?"
"I meant that many people who are out have very little patience with those who are closeted. I am one of those people."
"I'm not in any closet. I'm a pariah all on my own because I'm obnoxious. I'm long past caring what other people call me. But what about people like Mendelsohn?"
"What about him? He's another one who's chosen to live his life as a lie. Some of us never have. And we've borne the burden of opening the way for people like him."
"Forgive me, Saint Paul. Can you get any more highhanded?" Jack said, shaking his head. "Anyway, you're not from Appalachia."
"I've lived in the southern US for many years!"
"You lived in city Virginia. Mendelsohn is from rum-running, snake-handling, fiddle-plucking country. And Deke is really from there. Born and bred. His family didn't even have indoor plumbing until he was twelve."
"Yet do I fear thy nature," T.J. groaned. "It is too full of the milk of human kindness."
"Yeah, well, I fear thou art full of something else, Shakespeare."
"And anyway," T.J. said, as if pleading his case to a Jury Invisible, "who was it who said cutting words can be the kindest wisdom?"
"Oh, I dunno ... Satan?" Jack boggled for a moment at the deep streams of traffic all around them. He looked back at Thomas. "You know why you're angry.”
“Reveal to me now the contents of my soul, oh Swami Paulson.”
“Okay. You’re angry because you know that I'm right."
"Damn it to hell, yes," T.J. said, turning into the parking access and then into the first, closest slot to stop the car. He yanked out the keys. Grasping the steering wheel before him, he leaned his head against his hands. "Why do I have to have a bloody conscience? Why can't I be cunning and calculating and ruthless?"
"Because you're a good man. And like all good men, you have a greater burden and fewer ways to get where you need to go, to borrow a recent metaphor."
"Very well," T.J. said, exhaling. "What about this. Let's say we avoid all the cheating spouses, multiple-partner configurations, freakish otter costumes and gay people except for the clear hypocrites like the Values Voters and the No-Homos ... and we warn all the lightly-closeted people and other relative innocents about what is going on. If we can come up with an approach with which you feel ethically comfortable, would you sign on?"
Jack thought for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah. If you agree to all that, I will meet you halfway."
T.J. nodded in return. "Thank you," he said. He glanced reluctantly over at Jack. "I'm sorry. About before. About the hypocrite thing."
Jack laughed out loud. "No, you're not. Don't bullshit me about that either. I've known you too long."
T.J. confessed with a grin. "Can't I at least feign regret?"
"Not with me."
T.J. laughed and looked around, as if to make certain they were alone. He leaned over quickly to capture Jack's lips under his. He leaned farther into it, farther than Jack had expected then their tongues glided together as if drawn there helplessly.
T.J. made himself pull away. He yanked out his cell phone. "We'd better stop that before we decide to become adventurous. I'll call Lee and have him get hold of everyone on the list who isn't a Values Voter or NoHomo. Shall we all do dinner somewhere reasonably discreet?"
"Why not that Italian place with the big backroom? Della Collina on Ambassador."
"Della Collina it is. Where are you off to?"
Jack had clicked open the door and was checking his PDA for time. "First, I'm stopping by Mendelsohn's office to tell him the bad news. Then I've got that stupid Ways and Means meeting with chicken Congress members who want someone else to kick right-wing ass over entitlement programs."
"And a good time will be had by all, I'm sure. Oh, when you come to the meeting tonight, pack some stuff for a couple of days."
Jack had climbed out of the car and then looked back in. "Why?"
"Safety in numbers, remember? Besides it'll make seduction that much easier."
Jack gave an awkward laugh. "We could go to my place. We have security."
"A doorman who's a seventy year old retired policeman is not security. My neighborhood has 24 hour sky surveillance and our own armed tactical squad."
"Yeah, okay, you win," Jack said, laughing. He closed the door behind him and then walked away toward the hub of the Banks building.
And T.J. wished that Jack had looked back just once. Just once.
Mendelsohn seemed like one of those guys perpetually perched on the edge of his life. Hyper-vigilant, they called it. Many years filled with trauma and stress had in essence left him psychological road kill, left dangling on the tenterhooks of fate. The tiniest bit of bad luck seemed like a cloud of coming locusts. Anything with an unknown resolution heralded an unhappy end of life. Jack knew the phenomenon well. Too well. He had been living it for at least two years.
He gently tapped on the windowed door and he watched as the poor kid scrambled to his feet like an expectant father in a waiting room.
He saw Jack, gave a nervous smile and beckoned him in.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jack said, coming in and closing the door. The tone of voice he was going for was conversational. "Needed to talk to you a couple of minutes, if you have the time."
Mendelsohn flashed him the smile he no doubt kept on ice, as did most people in their profession, for just such occasions. But Mendelsohn faked smiles about as well as Jack told lies. In other words, poorly.
Mendelsohn tried to settle back into his chair with an air of casualness. He didn't do that too well either. His right hand rubbed at the center of his chest, as if the weight of the world rested there. "So, Jack, whatcha been up to," he said, fighting to maintain the smile.
Jack tried a more sympathetic smile of his own. Short and fast, he decided. Like a bandage removal. "We have the list, Deke. And you're on it."
The smile broke apart a little bit at a time. Mendelsohn looked around his desk as though searching for some evidence to not believe and slowly, aimlessly rose to his feet. His hand pressed harder against his chest.
"You sure?"
Jack nodded. "We've seen it."
"Is it public?” the younger man asked, fear firing in his eyes.
"Not public. Not yet. My friend Tom Jefferson was able to hunt down a copy but so far as we know, it's only T.J. and I who know you're on it. It may very well stay that way."
"Well, if it doesn't," the younger man said, sitting again with a kind of numb despair, "My life is done."
Jack leaned forward. He grappled inside himself for the right words. He wished T.J. could be there to help him find them. "Deke, I know you're from a conservative town but you represent Massachusetts ... one of the cradles of liberty, for heaven sakes. No one really cares."
"I'm not just from a conservative town, Jack. I am from Storybook, Alabama population 2109. They still speak in tongues up there. No one in my family knows about me. No one has even guessed."
"Coming out is always hard, I'm given to understand."
"Not hard. Impossible. Look, what's to be done with this list? Do you plan on letting anyone else see it?"
"We plan on keeping it as far away from the public eye as we can. We'll be talking to you about all that in a couple of days. I just wanted to tell you in person." Jack stood up from his chair. "I thought it would be kinder coming at you in person."
"So ... it's possible no one else will ever see this thing," Mendelsohn said, on the verge of hope.
Jack nodded for want of anything better to say. "It's possible."
Deke tried to smile, as if he had given him just enough to save his sanity for the moment. "Thanks, Jack. I appreciate your telling me. A lot."
"I'll let you know," Jack said slowly, "i
f anything changes."
"Yeah, thanks, do that," Mendelsohn said in parting, with very little inflection in his voice, as his gaze wandered away.
Jack almost turned his back in defiance against the wall. The Wall wall.
As he walked back into the big area where all lower halls of the building seemed to cross, he realized the little area room that had been annexed for the corridor was in reality quite old. Only the building around the room was new. He kept his back to the wall, but he managed a glance over his shoulder at that troubling blankness behind him. That space on the wall. Something was supposed to be there. But what?