Pink Slip Prophet

by Donnelly, George

  Jack ran around the other side and came down the bench row to his father. He sat down next to him. “Dad, are you okay?”

  “Too bad you didn’t take the deal I offered them,” Larry said to Jack. He pointed his thumb back at the boy’s mother and siblings. “You could have gotten a payday, kid.”

  “Shut up!” Jack screamed at him. He put his hand on his dad’s shoulder and pushed him back and forth. Ian’s head rolled from side to side.

  Stacy motioned to her mother. Candy glared at her daughter then came up behind Larry on his left. “Well,” she said.

  “I already talked to Divergent. They hung up on me,” Larry said with a shrug.

  “Well, what’s it going to take?” Candy said.

  “Does he have an accountant?” Larry asked.

  Ian took a deep breath and stood up. His head was a sleepy jumble. Something ominous hung over him. There was something bad going on. It was right at the edge of his consciousness but it wouldn’t materialize. “Let’s get some lunch, Jack, shall we?” He grabbed Jack’s hand and turned to exit the bench row.

  Larry blocked his path. “Ian, we need to talk. You owe me a billion dollars.”

  Ian’s face contorted into a look of ridicule. “Are you stupid? I don’t owe you a damned thing.”

  Larry’s lawyer walked up. He held his open briefcase in one hand, his suit jacket clumsily draped over it. His chest and armpits featured dark spots and his tie was pulled down to just above where his gut began. His shirt tails hung outside of his pants. “You have lost the case, Mr. Blake. Are you able to comprehend what I am saying?” He burped then snapped his fingers in front of Ian’s face.

  It came rolling back to Ian. He lost. His lawyer said so. He could appeal, of course. No, they already denied it. Larry and his government connections. Larry and the anti-tech movement. How? The thought reverberated inside his mind.

  Larry’s lawyer produced a document. “Sign here, Mr. Blake and we can settle this matter right now. You can be on your way, free and clear. This document transfers title of your rights in the Maria robot invention to Mr. Kunkle and in return Mr. Kunkle agrees to not just consider your debt to him fully paid but to also provide you with an income stream sufficient to fund a minimal but wholly acceptable standard of living for the rest of your natural life.”

  “The rest of my natural life,” Ian muttered.

  “That’s correct, sir, and is currently estimated at five years.” The lawyer handed him a pen. “Just sign at the bottom. I’m sure your lovely wife and eldest son will serve as appropriate witnesses.”

  “What about our share?” Stacy asked. “We deserve our share now, too.”

  The lawyer kept his eyes on Ian, the pen in his outstretched hand.

  Ian reached for the contract.

  Jack pulled at his father’s shirt. “Don’t sign, Dad! Don’t do it.”

  Michael pushed past the lawyer and grabbed Jack. He pulled him over the rear of the bench and cupped a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, you little rat,” Michael said.

  Jack fought and kicked.

  Ian looked up at the lawyer. A normal flow returned to his movement as he grabbed the contract and the pen. “So I just sign this and Larry leaves me alone. Forever. Right?”

  The lawyer nodded. “Absolutely. You can continue dealing with me in order to get your monthly allowance.”

  Everything else fell away. He didn’t hear his sons fighting. He didn’t notice Larry and Candy laughing or Stacy smacking Larry’s free hand away from her. All he saw was the paper, the pen and the word ‘allowance’. Larry will give me an allowance. Of course.

  What? He looked at the pen and paper again and knew what he had to do.

  Ian ripped up the contract and threw the pen into the lawyer’s face. He looked at Larry. “I don’t know how you did this. I may have to pay you but you will never control Maria. You will never own anything that I create, not again.”

  Jack kicked Ian’s leg. Ian turned and glared at Michael. “Get your hands off my son!” he yelled.

  Michael let go and backed away.

  “Come on, Jack.” Ian held his hand out to him over the back of the bench.

  Jack took a step toward his father, then turned and punched Michael between his legs. Michael fell to the ground.

  Ian pushed Larry and the lawyer out of his way, grabbed his son’s hand and left the room.

  “You’ll pay for this Ian!” Larry yelled. “I will make you pay through your teeth. And then I’ll break your goddamned superior teeth!”

  ***

  “After paying the judgment, fees, taxes and my fee, of course, this is how much you have left.” The lawyer passed a slip of paper across his desk to Ian, who sat directly opposite him.

  Ian took the note and looked at it. All the zeroes were gone now. He looked out the window behind his lawyer - a new one, different from the incompetent boob who got him into this financial holocaust. A few flying cars passed among the skyscrapers in front of a cloudless, shiny blue sky. Nowhere to hide.

  “I’ll see that it is deposited into your account. We’ve paid Mr. Kunkle and have the receipt on file, so you needn’t worry about that.” He looked up from the paperwork and studied Ian.

  Ian sat slouched into the chair, his chest sunken in, his face blank and distant.

  “What are your plans now, Mr. Blake? Surely a talented mind such as yours will come up with something new and exciting. We stand ready to protect you in the future, should you invent something, of course.”

  Ian closed his eyes.

  ***

  Ian opened his eyes. The bar was dark, the walls nearly black. The booths wooden with greasy, gray cushions loosely tied onto them. It felt natural, like a cave inside a tree, at night. But it stank of heroin, cheap beer and raw sewage. Ian finished off his mug of watery beer in one, long gulp.

  People moved around him but Ian took no notice of them. His mind was numb. Everything had been taken from him: his job, his accomplishments, his wife, his children, his invention, his money, his pride and dignity, his trust of the world - except for Jack. Jack he still had. He’s a good boy. So young and yet he made those flittering, talking robots. Inside he laughed but the laugh died before it could escape his dark, leaden mind.

  A bone-thin woman in her underwear approached his table. “Swax,” she whispered. “A hundred a hit.” She walked in circles near Ian’s booth then threw herself onto the bench across from him. “Swax, pilgrim - you need it! Just a hundred a hit. Best deal all day.”

  Ian put his hand over the top of his glass. “Refill,” he yelled. To the woman, he said, “I want to be alone.”

  “How about a trick, baby? Whatever you want, I can do it. Backwards, forwards, upside down. Which way you swing? I can even be your backend, baby.” She leered at him, her mouth almost empty of teeth, the gums blackened, the skin around her eyes cracked and dirty.

  Ian turned away in disgust. “I’m broke,” he said.

  “Revenge,” she said. She lifted her eyebrows at him.

  Ian scowled at her and motioned with his head for her to leave. “Refill!” he yelled towards the bar.

  “Look around this bar,” the toothless woman said with a sweep of her hand. “Many men and no jobs but lots of skills. Rare skills, useful skills. Just tell me what you want.”

  “Leave me alone.” He turned to the bar. “What’s it take to get a refill!”

  “You have an enemy. All I need is a name and a thousand dollars in cash.” She leaned forward and looked at his eyes.

  Ian avoided her stare and sat back into the hard wood of the booth. A thousand dollars. He had a thousand dollars - and change. He could give this woman the money and Larry’s name. He could be done with Larry forever. He let the thought roll around in his head. He savored it like a fine chunk of roast beef, smothered in gravy. His stomach rumbled.

  The waitress swung by and dropped a fresh mug of beer on the rough-hewn wooden table
top. “This one’s dangerous,” she said with a nod to the toothless revenge peddler.

  “I need a menu,” Ian said. The waitress walked away without responding. His stomach gurgled and clenched up.

  “Hunter, baby, come on over here,” the toothless woman said in the direction of the bar.

  A small, dark figure approached them, glass in hand.

  “Have a seat, baby,” she said.

  Hunter eased himself heavily into the booth next to the girl. He took a sip of his yellowish mixed drink and regarded Ian with greasy, fat-lidded eyes. “Who’s this?” he asked and tilted his glass in Ian’s direction.

  “A potential client. Were you satisfied with our services, baby?” She laid a scarred hand on his shoulder and let it rest there.

  Hunter narrowed his eyes at Ian. “Somebody causing you trouble? Anita here, she knows all the right people. She’s the Amazon of revenge: cheap and knows all the suppliers. Can’t go wrong.” He took a gulp of his drink and chewed on the ice.

  The sharp crunches made Ian twitch. “How?” he asked.

  “Any way you want, baby doll,” Anita said. “Chainsaw, cyanide, electrocution. It all depends on how slow and how painful you want it. We got all the time in the world to make your man suffer. How long do you want it?”

  “Very,” Ian said. He gulped his beer.

  Anita grinned. “How painful?”

  “Very.”

  “It might be a little extra,” she said.

  “All I have is a thousand,” he said. “He stole the rest.”

  “Finder’s fee is ten percent, cutiepie.”

  “Finder’s fee?” Ian asked.

  Anita rolled her eyes. “Pain leads to profit. How much does he have?”

  “He got it all.”

  “All we need is—”

  Ian looked at Hunter. “How come you’re still here?”

  Hunter shrugged and frowned his non-answer. He folded his hands neatly on the table and laid his chin on them.

  “Hunter’s alright,” the woman said. “All we need is a name. You can even come with us.”

  Ian sat back and slugged down some more beer. His mug was almost empty again. “You’re cops, right?” He smiled.

  Anita pulled her lips apart. “Cops have dental plans.”

  A tiny little voice in the back of his head said no, but the alcohol drowned it out. He got up and steadied himself with one hand on the table. “Hunter here can go back to whatever he was doing.”

  Anita stayed in the booth. “I need the name before anything else.”

  “Larry Kunkle.”

  ***

  The drone hovered high up. Ian lost sight of it. Next to him was Anita. Hunter controlled the drone.

  “I thought you were just a customer,” Ian said. His head hurt and his stomach felt simultaneously light and heavy. His mouth was dry and he had to go to the bathroom.

  They ignored him.

  Ian sat down on the ground with his back to the building wall. On the other side of the high chain-link fence that delimited this narrow right of way was the street. It was dirty here: instant food wrappers, drink cups, needles, little foil packets and the stink of thick urine. He put his hands to his temples and rubbed. “What the hell am I doing?” he mumbled.

  A police aircar zipped down the street in front of him. It actually had real police in it. One looked in Ian’s direction and Ian turned away. Oh great, that’ll arouse their suspicion for sure. I’m horrible at crime!

  Anita crouched down next to him, her screen out and unfolded. It was video of Larry inside his apartment. “This is live,” she whispered.

  The police aircar zipped around again. It stopped a hundred meters down the road from them and faced up at the building where the drone was.

  Ian focused on the video. Larry was gesticulating. His mouth was moving. “No audio?”

  “Hunter?” Anita said.

  Hunter narrowed his eyes. “I thought this was a pure recon-kill mission. Are we a go?”

  “He just wants to listen. It’s his dime,” Anita said.

  Hunter groaned. He touched his finger to his screen and upped the volume setting.

  “I did what you wanted,” Larry said. “It’s enough.”

  “What about the other side of the conversation?” Ian asked. His stomach rumbled. He was famished, thirsty and really had to go to the bathroom now.

  Hunter stared off in the general direction of the cops, who were still just sitting there. Anita elbowed him roughly.

  “What? You’ve got your audio feed,” the mustached man said.

  “What about the other side of the conversation?” she loud-whispered.

  “I don’t want to hurt him anymore,” Larry said.

  “Shh,” Ian said. Hunter and Anita went silent and watched with him.

  “I took everything from him, just like you wanted. He’s done. Let him have his kid and his—” Larry paused to listen. “Then let’s give him a job. He certainly needs one now!”

  “Who’s he talking to?” Ian asked.

  Anita shrugged.

  “Leave the kid alone,” Larry said with a jerk of his hand. “Jack is a good kid. He’s smart. He’ll be a national asset someday. Just hire him, he’ll probably work for us.” He paused and his face contorted. “If you hurt him, I will… I’ll do something! This relationship goes two ways, you know! I can blow the whistle any time I like.”

  Ian’s heart skipped a beat. He sat back down on the ground, his face slack. Jack. Who would want to hurt Jack?

  “You have it already!” Larry said. “I made the transfer per your instructions. Where the hell am I going to go? Give me a little credit. You have effective control of the robot, too. Leave Ian and his family alone already. They’re beaten.”

  Ian pulled himself up. “Look, guys—”

  The police aircar siren sounded and it took off in a wide, looping circle around Larry’s building.

  “Are we gonna do this or not?” Hunter asked. “It’s now or never, but I get paid either way.”

  Anita turned to Ian, her face expectant and almost salivating. She raised an eyebrow. “Decision time, champ.”

  Ian stood up.

  “Get down!” Anita loud-whispered.

  Ian pulled his remaining cash out of his pocket. He peeled off five two-hundred dollar bills and handed them to Anita. “Let’s leave it here.”

  Anita nodded. “Do him,” she said to Hunter.

  “No, don’t kill him. Just let it go here,” Ian said. “We’re done, thank you very much. I really have to go. I never saw you, you never saw me, et cetera, et cetera.” He turned and took a step away from them.

  “This kind of goes against our professional ethics,” Anita said.

  Ian turned around. Professional ethics?

  “We charge less for a simple surveillance op than for a revenge killing,” said Hunter.

  “But we have a no refund policy,” Anita said.

  Good lord. Ian rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “Seriously, it’s okay. Look, there are cops here.”

  “Shh,” Anita said. “Get down.”

  Ian squatted. “And, uh, I need more information. I want to think this over. It’s too soon, yes, definitely.” He looked at them. I hope this does it. “Okay?”

  Anita and Hunt looked at each other. “A job that requires two visits will cost more.”

  “Do I have to pay you now?” Ian asked. Killers with professional ethics. I do hope this is the low point of my day. No, it can’t get any worse.

  “We charge interest on past due amounts,” Anita said. Her mouth hung open and she regarded Ian as if he was an idiot asking how to turn on a light.

  Ian pinched his legs together and willed his urinary tract deeper into his body. His head pounded. “Whatever, that’s fine.” He turned, rounded the corner and was gone.

  ***

  The lights went out. Ian’s screen switched over t
o battery power. He sat in his office plotting his next move. A cheap hotel with just the bare minimum of personal possessions. That was his only move.

  Jack slouched into Ian’s office and looked for somewhere to sit down. He finally dropped onto the hard floor and reclined uncomfortably against a wall. “We have to bring my robots, Dad. We have to. We just have to.” He threw up his hands and let them slap to the floor.

  “Please be gentle to yourself. This is a minor setback. You still have a long and prosperous life ahead of you,” Ian said.

  “Are we really going to split up?” Jack’s voice cracked. “I know they’re jerks but they’re still our family.”

  “Larry’s sharing some of my money with them so they’ll be fine. You should just go with them and I’ll visit you. It’ll be fine.”

  “But I love you, Dad, and they’re all jerks!”

  “I can’t pay for the electricity for your quantum computer. I can’t fund your robots, not until I get back on my feet.” And how am I going to do that? The panic engulfed him and he erupted in cold sweat. I already sold a kidney. I can’t sell another one… unless I build a dialysis machine. That might work. “But Larry and your mother can.”

  “What if Larry steals my robots, too?”

  Ian thought about that one. That’s a definitely possibility. But he said nothing. At least he’ll eat and live in a decent place and go to his school.

  A new message arrived from Anselm Academy. He brought it up.

  “Dear Mr. And Mrs. Blake, We regret to inform you that due to your past due bill of $16,542, representing two months of tuition for your son Jack, we find ourselves obligated to terminate the student’s educational privileges. Please do not send him to school until this matter has been resolved.”

  Damn.

  Jack put a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Is that from my school?”

  Ian archived the message with a quick movement of his index finger. “Huh? Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  “Did they expel me?” Jack asked.

  Ian closed his eyes. “We’ll fix it.”

  “No, you won’t.” Jack collapsed in place and sobbed.

  Ian turned around and rubbed the boy’s head. “I promise you, we will fix this.” He put on his serious face and showed as much confidence as he could muster. I might not be able to fix this. But he doesn’t need to know that right now. He needs to be strong and believe that things can improve, because if we give in then we’re definitely screwed. The line between success and failure was always thin but it was thinner now than ever. Lose your mental edge and you had nothing.