Bad Citizen Corporation

by S. W. Lauden

  The receptionist greeted them from inside her circular desk in the lobby and offered them cappuccinos while they waited. Both men declined and took a seat on the stiff leather couches near the small indoor Koi pond. Mikey came bounding down the swooping industrial staircase to collect them a few minutes later. He led them up to a massive office with floor to ceiling views of the reservoir.

  “I’m glad you could make it, Eddie, but you didn’t need to bring security. Did Cheryl offer you two drinks?”

  “We’re good, thanks. Greg and I are considering a business arrangement so he needs to be here. I have to get back to the bar before too long, so let’s just get down to business?”

  “No foreplay. I like that. But before we move on, I have to ask—don’t you ever get tired of spending every waking moment at that little bar?”

  Greg shifted in his seat and Mikey made a show of covering his tracks.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I have a ton of respect for anybody who can build a business with their own two hands, but it must be exhausting to keep it running year after year. I’m not sure our generation has the same work ethic. Am I right, Greg?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Yeah. I guess you gave your dreams up pretty young, didn’t you? You look like shit, by the way. Rough night?”

  Mikey’s tone was playful. He seemed pleased to be getting under Greg’s skin. Eddie grabbed Greg’s wrist just as he went to get out of his chair. Mikey flashed a cocky smile and turned his attention back to the older man.

  “So, have you considered my offer? I doubt you’ll get anything nearly as generous.”

  “I have considered it, but I have a few questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I mostly want to know what you plan to do with all the property if I do decide to sell.”

  Mikey swiveled his chair slowly from side to side, his eyes raised to the ceiling in thought. Greg could hear his former manager doing deep breathing exercises to keep himself calm. He turned to make eye contact with Eddie and noticed beads of sweat starting to form on the old man’s forehead. His chest was rising and falling roughly and his knee was pumping like a piston in front of him. Greg was just about to ask Eddie if he was doing okay when Mikey chimed in.

  “I’ve known you for a long time, Eddie. It hasn’t always been an easy relationship, what with Junior and the boy—my son. But we’re going to have to keep this a business conversation if we hope to get anything accomplished. In that spirit, I’m just going to be as straight with you as I can. When you sell me this property, at a price that I’ll remind you is way above market value, what happens to it will be between me and my business partner.”

  “Which is who?” Eddie wasn’t going to let up on his line of questioning, and it was clearly starting to wear on Mikey. “I deserve to know.”

  “None of your business.”

  “What if I make it a condition of the deal that the bar and salon have to remain in business with a guaranteed twenty year lease for my family and me?”

  “Then we won’t have a deal.”

  “You’re bluffing. I know you’re desperate or you wouldn’t be throwing money around like you are.”

  Greg was trying to let Eddie take the lead, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking up.

  “He isn’t bluffing, Eddie. He doesn’t have a decent bone in his body. Not for the L Bar or anything else in The Bay Cities. He told me so that night outside of Junior’s house.”

  Mikey gave an uncomfortable smile when Greg finished talking.

  “He’s right about one thing. This is purely a business transaction for me. And the offer I gave you is final. Take it or leave it.”

  “Come on, Eddie. Let’s get out of here.” Greg’s voice remained even, but his fingers were digging into the ends of the armrests on his chair. “This deal isn’t worth your time.”

  “Isn’t this interesting? You’re getting pulled in both directions by your former son-in-law, and by the son-in-law you always wished you had.”

  Eddie was a little wobbly standing up.

  “I need a second to clear my head. Where’s the bathroom?”

  Mikey nodded toward the office door and pointed left with his thumb. Eddie eventually managed to shuffle across the polished wooden floor and out into the hall. Mikey sprang from his chair and turned to stand in front of the window overlooking the reservoir. Greg stayed put in his chair and enjoyed the scene that was running through his head, the one where he leaps across the desk and snaps Mikey’s neck.

  It was Mikey’s voice that brought him out of his reverie.

  “It’s not true, you know. What you said a minute ago.”

  He was still facing the window with his hands in his pants pockets. Greg thought his posture was unnaturally perfect, like somebody who was a little too militaristic about his yoga.

  “What’s that?”

  “About me not caring what happens to The Bay Cities. I think you’ve got me all wrong. I might have outgrown my love of punk rock and wasting time on the beach, but nothing matters to me more than what happens to this town.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see if Greg was paying attention before he went on.

  “I know for a fact that I’m not the only developer that has approached Eddie about selling, but I do know that I’m the only local developer.”

  “What difference does that make? You said it yourself, this is strictly business.”

  “It makes all the difference in the world. Most of these guys represent corporations looking to turn a buck without any concern for what happens after they’re long gone. They don’t work here, or live here, or have kids in school here. Like I do.”

  Greg watched as a flock of birds flew into view from the left and swooped down low over the reservoir. Their silhouetted wings danced across the marbled blue and white sky like musical notes. Mikey gave a little sigh.

  “Do you remember when we were kids and dared each other to swim across the reservoir?”

  “Of course. All those stories about sharks scared the crap out of me.”

  “Chris is about the age we would have been when we tried to make that swim.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, he does just fine in the water.”

  “It isn’t that, it’s just…I don’t know what I’ll tell him when he asks if I ever swam across the reservoir, because I never did. I chickened out, because of a shark that didn’t exist.”

  “I doubt it will matter to him very much. I’m not even sure if kids around here care about the reservoir anymore. I barely ever see them outside.”

  “It matters to me. I want him to be proud of his father.”

  “Seems like you’re pretty successful, from the looks of things. That’s something he can probably be proud of.”

  Greg motioned around the spacious office. Mikey kept his eyes on the water.

  “That’s the problem. I spent so much time focusing on building my business that I pretty much ignored the most important thing in my life.”

  “He isn’t that old. You still have time, if it really is important to you.”

  “You’re probably right, but kids grow up really fast these days. That’s why this development project is so important. I want to close one big deal—one massive deal—so that I can just retire and focus on what matters. That’s why I need your help.”

  “My help? Get real.”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous coming from me.”

  Mikey turned to face Greg just as his receptionist came racing through the office door. Panic was written all over her face.

  “Come quick! Your other guest, the older man, he collapsed in the bathroom. It seems like he can’t breathe.”

  Greg kicked his chair out from under him and sent it skidding back across the floor. He was through the bathroom door moments later
with Mikey just behind him. Eddie’s face was red. He was clutching at his chest and gasping for air. Greg was down on the floor beside him and trying to dial 911 on his cell phone.

  ›

  Eddie seemed to relax a little once the paramedics arrived. They did a couple of field tests on him and assured Greg that it wasn’t a heart attack. The snap diagnosis seemed to be that he had some kind of heart spasm that was brought on by stress. He definitely wasn’t out of the woods yet, but it was a good sign that he was alert and talking. Greg was about to climb into to the back of the ambulance to ride along to the hospital when Eddie raised his hand.

  “Greg, I need you to do me a favor. Can you go back to the bar and let them know what happened? I was supposed to cover for Randy until eight tonight.”

  “I’ll take care of it. And I’ll have Junior meet you at the hospital. Just take it easy.”

  “Think about what I said.”

  The paramedics pushed Eddie and the gurney into the back of the ambulance. The old man waved and tried to brave a smile as the doors closed. Greg took out his cell phone and started to text Junior. He changed his mind and dialed her number instead.

  “How was your secret meeting?”

  “Good as could be expected. Listen, are you at work right now?”

  “Just finishing up. Why?”

  “Your dad is going to be fine. That’s the first thing. But he’s on his way to the emergency room in an ambulance right now.”

  “What?”

  “He’s fine, Junior. He was talking and smiling when they carted him off. They just need to do some tests. I think you should go be with him.”

  “Oh my god! Okay, okay. I’m going.”

  “Wait! What about Chris?”

  “What? Oh, he’s at a sleepover tonight.”

  “Okay. Good. Do you need me to lock up the salon?”

  “That would be great. I’ll leave the key with the bartender.”

  Greg slid the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and then headed upstairs to look for Mikey. He felt the need to finish their conversation, despite their history. There was a part of him that was intrigued by what Mikey had to say, even if his bullshit meter was going off during their little swim down memory lane. He found the office empty when he reached the top of the stairs. The last rays of sunlight danced across the surface of the reservoir while he waited. He tried to imagine a shark fin breaking the glassy water, but was too old to conjure childhood monsters.

  “There you are.”

  Greg spun around to find Mikey standing in the doorway with a small grin on his face. He looked like he was standing in the spotlight as the afternoon sun came through the window. He motioned for Greg to take a seat as he swung around the desk and dropped heavily into his own chair.

  “I have the exact opposite view from my living room. It’s almost a perfect mirror image.”

  “What, over there on the other side of the reservoir? There aren’t many locals who can afford one of those houses.”

  “I thought it would be a nice place for my son to grow up, but I won’t bore you with all of that. What did the paramedics say about Eddie?”

  “They don’t seem to think it was anything serious. Just severe stress.”

  Greg locked eyes with Mikey as he delivered the diagnosis. Mikey brought his hand up across his brow and shook his head quickly from side to side.

  “You know I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him, right?”

  “It sure would make things easier for you, having him out of the way.”

  “Easier how? You think it would be ‘easier’ dealing with my ex-wife?”

  There was a growing edge to his voice that Greg would recognize anywhere. It was a cross between breathless sarcasm and nervousness that Mikey seemed to originate from somewhere deep in his throat. Greg had heard that voice countless times back when Mikey was still in charge of his music career, and it almost always signaled the beginning of an argument. This time Mikey seemed to fight back the bile just as quickly as it rose up inside of him.

  “Impressive. How much yoga did it take to get that under control?”

  Mikey pulled a sealed bottle of water out from under his desk. He twisted the cap and drank down half the contents before speaking again.

  “I guess it’s hard to hide your emotions from somebody who has known you for so long.”

  “Look, Mikey. I have to get back to the L Bar. Why don’t you just finish what you were trying to ask me earlier?”

  “Okay…I guess I’m just asking for your support. I know Eddie and Edie trust you. It would mean a lot to me if you try to remind them every once in a while that I’m not such a bad guy. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Chris.”

  “Nobody would think you were such a bad guy if you didn’t go out of your way to prove it all the time.”

  Greg stood up and placed his palms on the edge of the desk. Mikey was biting his lower lip and nodding in response to Greg’s last comment, waiting for whatever came next.

  “For what it’s worth, I never really fell for your tough guy routine. So show me that you really want to be part of your son’s life again and I will do what I can to help you. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Greg waved to the receptionist and mouthed a “thank you” as he passed through the lobby. His thoughts turned to Eddie’s offer as he walked. Would working in a bar all day put him in constant danger of drinking again, or make him immune? The whole idea was absurd, but there was something appealing about running his own business.

  He couldn’t imagine going back to work with VHPD after everything that had happened, but he wasn’t cut out for construction. And working side by side with Junior everyday seemed perfect somehow. As if he could live the kind of life his brother had lost so young.

  Happy hour was in full swing when Greg walked into Eddie’s. He made his way through a small crowd of well-dressed professionals and stepped behind the bar. Randy the bartender was moving faster than Greg had ever seen him move before, popping bottle tops and mixing drinks in a dewy silver shaker. Greg grabbed an apron and started clearing empty bottles and glasses from the bar so that Randy had more room to work. It was few minutes before they got caught up enough on drink orders so that they could talk.

  “Where’s Eddie?”

  “At the hospital. He’s going to be all right. He sent me over to help you out.”

  “Shit. I have to be at my kid’s school for a parent teacher deal tonight. My wife is gonna kill me.”

  “I got you covered. Let me go lock up the salon and then I’ll come back over. Where’s Junior’s key?”

  The bartender pointed to the register and went back to taking orders. Greg opened the drawer and pulled out a simple ring with a single key on it. He tried to squeeze behind Randy, but the taller man stopped him.

  “Do you even know how to mix drinks?”

  “Not really, but I can wing it.”

  Greg wound through the crowd and out into the parking lot. The door of the salon was locked, but the lights were on. He let himself in and got to work dropping combs into jars of blue liquid and sweeping hair off the floor. The place was in pretty good shape before he turned his attention to the drawer where Junior kept her cash box.

  He knew the combination to the dial lock was 3-2-1. Inside he found a stack of twenties that he counted off and paper clipped in a couple one hundred dollars stacks. He ran the daily report on the credit card terminal by following handwritten instructions that were taped to the wall next to the machine. The print out went into the cash box last. He closed the lid and set the dials to 6-6-6.

  Greg couldn’t shake the feeling that he was inside of his brother’s record shop, closing up for the day. The sensation was so familiar that he didn’t want to ruin it by confronting the reality. He deposited the cash box in
a small floor safe in Junior’s office, the same one that had always been there, and flipped the lights off. He was back inside of Eddie’s thirty minutes later. There were handwritten notes all along the bar that said: “Beer Only.”

  “Thanks, Randy. That should make things easier.”

  “Domestics are three dollars. Imports are four dollars. You can do shots for four bucks too, if somebody really needs a snort. There’s a white line on the shot glass, but go ahead and fill it to the top. It’s good for tips.”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  “I’ll be back before eight.”

  “Take your time. Looks like it’s already dying down.”

  Randy had obviously taken a lot of orders before he left because the first fifteen minutes flew by. Then, as the bottles started to empty and the crowd got drunk, Greg found himself buried in a twenty-minute rush. It took him a couple of tries to figure out how the different beer brands were stacked in the various reach-in coolers. And he was instantly thankful for the customers who were running a tab, because it kept him from having to work the register too often.

  He was surprised to see the tips piling up on the bar considering how bad we was at this. There is a way to casually sweep the cash out of sight, but Greg didn’t know how. So he started grabbing it in his fists and dropping it to the sticky ground.

  The ground was littered with bills when he looked up and saw Quincy standing there.

  “Moonlighting?”

  She gave a nervous laugh and pursed her red lips.

  “Just helping Eddie out. Get you a drink?”

  He motioned to the bar with both hands. She eyed one of the handwritten signs and wrinkled her nose.

  “No wine?”

  “I think I can handle that. I’m just not great with mixed drinks. Red or white?”

  “Chardonnay would be great.”

  He spun around to pour the wine into one of the stemmed glasses. The golden liquid nearly reached the lip of the bowl before he stopped. It made it difficult to get the drink to Quincy without spilling. Barrett was standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder. Her voice climbed an octave as she tried to diffuse the situation.