The coffin started to move like a boat being steered by a drunken sailor. The streets were like one big gushing river. Traffic was stalled as the rising tide forced drivers and passengers to flee their cars. The only thing moving was my coffin, and in the distance was the Whitestone Bridge, like a beaming lighthouse in the midst of chaos.
The rain stopped but not before my coffin maneuvered its way beneath the bridge and into the East River. Floating, we passed the borough of Queens and then my coffin was in the middle of the Long Island Sound. I was alone, without anyone or anything in sight. I could feel the casket sinking, and, if being in the box of death wasn’t claustrophobic enough, the sound of the swishing, swirling water made it nearly unbearable. I was thankful that at least my prick of a lawyer had followed my instructions and gotten the best watertight coffin on the market.
The descent went on forever. Never in my wildest of dreams would I have thought that the water in this part of the Sound was so deep. We drifted downward for what seemed like miles before hitting the bay floor. I was surrounded by trillions of tons of water, and, a moment later, water started to leak into the casket at an alarming rate! Apparently, my prick of a lawyer hadn’t purchased a watertight coffin after all. Either that or they didn’t have a casket on the market yet that could withstand that amount of pressure. I kicked and banged frantically in the enclosed space, but it was hopeless. My lips pressed against the coffin lid, my fate apparently sealed … and it’s then that I always woke up whistling “La Marseillaise.”
And this nightmare had tripled in frequency since I met Nancy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I arrived at work early. The lobby was empty except for the security guard, who was asleep behind the desk. Today was Maggie’s first day back, and I wanted to make sure everything was perfect. I decided the less stress in her life, the less chance of a relapse. I ordered her flowers — even though I was sure she would have preferred jewelry — but I couldn’t take a chance. I still hadn’t told her about Nancy, and I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression.
Even though more than a month had passed since her infamous last day at work, I couldn’t purge myself of my overwhelming guilt over the part I’d played. When I got off the elevator, the first thing I heard was Jack’s voice coming from his office. I was pretty sure he was now living there, mixing play and work, a true leader in every sense of the word.
I was inclined to walk straight to my office and hope he didn’t see me, but his door was wide open. I decided it was better to just listen to whatever illogical advice he had to offer and get it over with. I knocked on the door, and to my surprise, Maggie was sitting across from him. She looked up at me with a slightly perplexed but amused smirk.
“I was just telling your beautiful assistant that the Japanese are getting anxious and want to start shooting the ad campaign as soon as possible, like today. Apparently, those rednecks have been protesting louder than ever about the foreign invasion into their holy territory.”
“Tough selling fifteen dollars an hour when you’re used to making a dollar-fifty an hour.” I sat next to Maggie.
“Exactly, thank God for such ignorant fools. I need you and Maggie to drive up to Thousand Oaks. Maggie has the directions.” Maggie waved the directions at me. “And the script with no dialogue.”
We got up to leave and Jack held me back as he admiringly watched Maggie walk out his door toward our office. “Did she have some work done?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Really, what a tight piece of ass. I can see now why you’re so protective of her. And by the way, I got the two of you an extra-large trailer so you can do whatever it is that has our clients so in love with her.”
I consulted with Maggie and she promised me that she was okay with the swiftness and unexpected nature of the project. It was exactly what she wanted: something new and exciting that would keep her on the straight and narrow. Besides, she had bills to pay and the extra money would come in handy. I reminded her that all her bills were taken care of.
“Exactly. Not only do I owe you my life, but roughly a million dollars.”
“You owe me nothing at all except to promise you’ll take care of yourself and never keep anything important from me again. And if you ever bring up owing me money again, I’ll kick your ass.”
She laughed as I walked into my office, picked up the phone, and called Nancy. I told her I would be gone from the office all day and when I told her where and with whom I was going, she screamed, “Fine!” and hung up on me. There is no word I despise more than that word, especially when a woman says it.
A few minutes later, Nancy called back. She apologized for the outburst and said it shouldn’t be counted against her worthiness to be my wife. I should be pleased that she was jealous because it showed how much she was in love with me.
“Fine.” I hung up quietly.
I decided against taking the company limousine, figuring driving ourselves would feel less awkward than sitting across from each other while trying to not talk about last month’s events. I still wasn’t sure what Maggie remembered, and I didn’t want to upset her.
She looked up from the script she was reading. “Did you write this?”
“No, I just provided them with a general concept of what I thought needed to be in the commercial.”
“Why does my character wear a crucifix around her neck?”
“The factory is being built in a part of Kentucky known as ‘Bible Country.’ The more we appease the fears of the general population that the Japanese have no intention of violating their cultural mores and beliefs, the less they’ll protest.”
She looked at me. “Can I borrow your crucifix?”
It was the first time in my life since my mother had given it to me that anyone had asked me to remove it, much less borrow it. Although my first impulse was to refuse, I couldn’t say no, not at this difficult time. I was sure my mother would understand. The crucifix represented so much, not just the sacrifice Christ made, but also his teachings and a proper way to live our lives, how we as human beings should treat each other.
I pulled over to the side of the road. I removed the chain and crucifix and put it on Maggie. She looked down at the crucifix and lifted it to her mouth and kissed it, just like my mother used to do. At that moment, I was sure for the first time since she passed away that my mother approved of my actions.
Thousand Oaks was about an hour and a half from Los Angeles, but it may as well have been a thousand miles away. It had the feel of a small town; the streets were clean; there was no graffiti, and no rival gangs were fighting over turf. The homes and yards were large. Children rode bicycles up and down the streets, playing games, and there were even a few lemonade stands.
This wonderful atmosphere of peace and tranquility was helped significantly by the large number of LAPD officers who had moved their families to the area. Acutely aware of the dangers of the inner city, they were willing to spend four hours commuting each day. Thousand Oaks was voted one of the safest cities in the United States year after year. Just outside the city limits there were green pastures with cows grazing and horses galloping. It wasn’t Kentucky, but after the director, editor, and cameraman were finished, you would have a difficult time distinguishing it from Bluegrass Country.
The film crew was ready when we arrived. Maggie was ushered off to the makeup and wardrobe trailer. I walked around and talked briefly to the director and the crew, and off to the side I noticed four Japanese executives looking oddly out of place. I was pretty sure I recognized them from my presentation the month before.
They greeted me warmly and told me how excited they were that Maggie was going to star in the media campaign. But in a profession where weird was the norm, I still found their fascination with Maggie sort of unnerving. The executives all started clapping as Maggie came out of the trailer. Like her old self, she quickly responded to the applause, playing the part to perfection, bowing before each executive as they chante
d, “Maggie! Maggie! Maggie!”
The director and the rest of the film crew looked on in amazement. When putting this campaign together, the idea that Maggie could so convincingly look the part of a Kentucky-born beauty — so pure and innocent — never even occurred to me, but apparently our clients saw something I never imagined. After a few mishaps in which the director yelled, “Cut!” and the executives booed, Maggie breezed effortlessly through filming; the director started calling her “One-Take Maggie.”
The shoot was an amazing success. Maggie made three curtain calls after filming stopped and the executives kept chanting her name. In their eyes, a star was born, and to me it was a small but important step in her recovery. Maggie was aglow as we drove back to Los Angeles. “This is the first time I’ve felt beautiful in a long time.”
I turned to look at her, but, as I was about to speak, she put her finger over my lips and said, “Remember our promise to each other. No lies ever again between us. It’s time we start living up to that promise again.”
It was late when I finally got home. I opened the door and followed the paper trail, picking up loose pieces of paper covered with incoherent notes, straight into the bedroom. Nancy was in bed reading a novel as I dropped the pile of papers on the bed next to her. “I was getting worried,” she remarked.
“We hit a lot of traffic coming back.”
“That’s strange, you’d think all the traffic would be going the other way.”
“This is Los Angeles. There’s no reason or logic to our traffic woes.”
She pulled back the sheet covering her body to reveal she was wearing red lingerie. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was a model in a magazine — the epitome of sexy and beautiful. I was almost certain she could have turned a gay man straight, but at that moment I was exhausted and not in the mood for a critique of my performance.
“You look amazing, Nancy.”
“It’s all for you, Joe.”
“That’s really sweet, but I’m exhausted. I need to get some sleep.”
I could sense her rage boiling as I took off my dress shirt and started to put on a T-shirt.
“Where’s your crucifix?” she asked.
I touched my chest, and I realized that I hadn’t gotten it back from Maggie.
“I let Maggie borrow it.”
“Wow! That’s an awfully personal item to lend to that ditzy little whore. Your mother must be turning over in her grave.”
“You know something, Nancy? My grandmother is the one who must be spinning in her grave because she knows you’re wearing her ring.”
“That was uncalled for,” Nancy replied as she got up from the bed and grabbed her book. “Totally uncalled for,” she said once again as she walked out the room.
I lay on the bed feeling guilty even though she’d started it. I stayed there for around fifteen minutes and then walked into the living room where Nancy was lying on the couch reading her book. I sat down beside her, surprised that she hadn’t taken the ring off.
“Nancy, please come back to bed.”
“I’m fine right here. Besides, I’m no use to you in there since you’re exhausted. Why not just go to sleep?”
“Why must you make everything so difficult, Nancy?”
“I’m sorry I’m a jealous bitch, Joe. Most guys would be flattered, but you’re not like most guys, are you?”
“There’s no reason to be jealous. Nothing is going on with Maggie.”
“Don’t you give me that shit! You’re so protective of that little whore, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the father of her children.”
I was boiling inside, but didn’t have the energy to fight with her, so I simply asked, “What can I do to alleviate your stress?”
“You can marry me this week, instead of waiting two more months before making the obvious choice that any sane person in your position would make.”
“You’ve got to be joking.” I started to laugh. “At this moment in time, you are barely above the Mendoza line in my judgment.”
“So in baseball lingo, I’m barely batting 200 … not anywhere good enough to be your wife?”
I was impressed. She was undeniably insane, but her knowledge and intelligence were astonishing. I shouldn’t really have been surprised she would know about poor Mario Mendoza. He was an infielder whose career batting average over five years was so dismal that he came to represent an incompetence every other baseball player desperately tried not to emulate. Nancy loved statistics, and no other sport took so much pride in its statistics than baseball.
“Yeah, today was an awful day for you. It’s like you played a doubleheader and you were 0 for 10. But then tomorrow you might actually get a few hits and raise your prospects.”
“And what would you like me to do?”
“For starters, I don’t want you anywhere near my bathroom. Just use your own bathroom from now on. Can you manage that?” I had started using the back bathroom. Sharing a bed with Nancy was heavenly; sharing a bathroom with her was hellish. In that skimpy red lingerie, looking into her big, blue eyes, all I could think was, Yes, she’s a lunatic, but she’s my lunatic and I really don’t want to share her with anyone.
“How about we get married in two weeks?” she replied, as though we were negotiating.
“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?”
“I heard it all; it’s garbage and I don’t believe any of it. By my own calculations, I’m batting way over 400. I’m the Ted Williams of prospective brides.”
“Six weeks.”
“Three weeks.”
“One month and that’s final.” How did it get to this, negotiating with a psychotic genius? Easy, I was in love with her. Who else would come up with an atomic bomb genetically engineered to kill only the bad guys or a spray that castrates perverts? I don’t care how many degrees she had from MIT and Stanford, any serious scientist would laugh at those ideas, or so I thought …
“A month! Four weeks! In essence, the month of February.”
I agreed and we shook hands on it. “And we start from scratch, since your calculations are way off. Seriously, barely above the Mendoza line?”
I took her hand and we walked into the bedroom. She took off the lingerie and put on her favorite pair of pajamas and we went to sleep. Despite signing my life over to my lovely Nancy, I slept exceptionally well that night with no nightmares.
Nancy was already up when I walked into the kitchen the next morning. She was wearing a red bandanna to hold her hair back, and the first thing that went through my mind was how good that bandanna would look with the red lingerie.
She grabbed me by the hand and led me into her bathroom. I wasn’t quite sure why she was showing it to me; it didn’t look much different than the last time I’d looked inside, except that the bottles thrown randomly around were now placed on the bathroom counter, and the newspapers, notes, and books usually spread across the floor were shoved up against the tub.
“So, what do you think?” she asked excitedly. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so I lied. “It looks great. I’m really proud of you.” She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. “You see? I can be perfect in so many ways.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nancy didn’t want a big wedding; she preferred a service at City Hall, or, if I insisted on getting married in a church, there was a little church on Coldwater Canyon that was at least non-denominational.
She couldn’t commit to a honeymoon getaway right away but would make sure there was plenty of honeymoon activity in our bed or any other location in the house. She asked if I had any suggestions, and I replied only that she wear the red bandanna along with the red lingerie throughout the honeymoon period.
Jack called me into his office the second I got off the elevator. He closed the door and looked at me curiously as I sat down across from him. His office smelled of sex, booze, and cigars.
“I have a very important question to ask you.”
>
“Sure, what is it? Surely no one complained about yesterday’s shoot. Maggie was terrific. It went really well.”
“No! No! They love that girl so much I wouldn’t be surprised if they make her an honorary empress. I would like you to do me the honor of being my best man.”
“What? You’re getting married again? Are you joking? I thought you finally found happiness with the Russian whores.”
“Yes, I have. But I didn’t expect to fall in love with one.” Jack took out the book and showed me her picture. “She’s not only gorgeous; she’s my soul mate. She understands my inner workings and accepts my overactive libido as a treasure of my manhood.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means that she understands that no one woman could truly satisfy me or, for that matter, her. A rotation of them will be at our disposal at all times. They’ll be like foster children with benefits.”
“Living and sleeping in the same house with you?”
“Exactly! What better way to keep the excitement alive in a marriage? If only my ex-wives had been this forward thinking.”
I wish I could say that I was stunned by this revelation. I knew it would be hopeless to even attempt to turn down his offer. The idea that I had been his best man for his last two failed marriages didn’t seem to register. I accepted his offer, and to celebrate he poured us each a shot of Russian vodka, cheerfully exclaiming, “Glasnost! Glasnost!”
Maggie looked up from her desk and smiled. The entire outer office was filled with flower arrangements from her admirers.
“Feeling beautiful today?”
“Very much so, yes. And congratulations on being asked to be Jack’s best man for a third consecutive time. It’s quite an honor.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Targeted Demographics Page 12