“Set up? What the hell does the guy want?”
“He wants his research, laddie. But look at it from his point of view. You work for the woman, you’re her right hand man. You break into SUE with us and we get stopped by the guards. I mean, he’s got to be a little careful, you know?”
“So why would anything change from last Friday? What’s different now?”
“I don’t know, but he sounded skeptical. Said we could get together tonight and talk about it though, if that’s okay with you. Over at the hotel.8:00-ish?”
“Okay,” he replied after going through his plans.
“I’ll call Camden.”
“And I’ll be there. Bye.”
As he drove to meet Hendricks, his mind continued to flood with distinctly lucid images from his past. He could remember with incredible clarity how the guard who led the tour of the Tower of London looked and sounded, down to the lint on the insignia of his long red coat. He recalled the first time he ever kissed a girl, really kissed one. It was on a dark outdoor stairway on an autumn night when he was in his freshman year of high school. He remembered the first time he walked into the Bellagio casino in Las Vegas, how he was struck with its size and its high ceiling and how he’d sat down at a 10-20 No Limit Hold ’em table and lost half of his four days of gambling funds in less than six hours. Salvation however came on the final hand when the table flopped Ten-Ace-Ten while he’d been dealt the other pair of tens as his hole cards. Going all in on the river, he took the biggest pot in his life, beating out the two remaining players who’d both bet everything on their matching aces over tens full houses.
He recalled most of his first day of kindergarten.
The decision to go with his instincts had hit him in a rush of pros and cons as he left Wilson Towers. In between Trisha’s and the lobby, he’d decided he had to eliminate the nagging Mustang obsession once and for all, no longer having room in his life to worry about buying it, not buying it, affording it, not affording it. Though now having discovered his Core Event the night before, he realized a final decision might be even more complex than he’d reckoned.
He pictured his old college friend Pete sitting across from him at a poker table in the recreation room of Pete’s fraternity house, a cigarette dangling from his lips, taunting him with phrases like “If you want to win like a champ, you have to bet like a champ” and “No guts, no glory” and “If you want to play like the big boys, you have to pay like the big boys.” He chuckled as he swung the Cherokee into Hendrick’s driveway.
If you want to play like the big boys, you have to pay like the big boys.
The man opened the front door and gestured him in without a word of greeting. They walked into the living room and he motioned for Stonetree to sit down on one of the couches as he queued up some music. It was a song about living away from the city, safe from crime. He asked who performed it.
“Ganymede.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Probably never will, either. Not your mainstream group. Good album, though. Suburban Downs.”
It was time to start dealing.
“I’m the Director of Corporate Projects at Southern United. You didn’t know that, did you?
“No. You want a beer?”
“Sure. To celebrate.”
He returned with two bottles and set them in front of his guest. Stonetree looked at him and then at the beers as Hendricks studied a painting of a court jester hanging on the wall.
“Nice painting,” he said.”Where did you get it?”
“It was a gift from an old friend of mine. Probably reminded her of me. I thought you were an accountant.”
“I am. Or I was,” he replied as he picked up his drink.
“So what are we celebrating?”
“I’m here to buy the car.”
“I figured that. You go to school for 20 years and you pick up some things here and there.”
Stonetree handed him the other bottle as Hendricks lit a cigarette and tossed his guest the pack.
“I wish I would have had one of these last night.”
“A beer?”
“No, a cigarette,” he replied, lighting one and inhaling deeply.”I had some scotch last night. This stuff that they made only 25 bottles of. Really expensive.”
“Did it give you a buzz?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So will this. Save your money.”
He thought a beat.”I’m here to negotiate.”
His host cocked his head.”You said negotiate?”
“Well, I know you really don’t expect to get your asking price. I was thinking…say three twenty-five?”
Rick walked into the room and sat beside his owner. After yawning, he looked to the visitor quizzically then lay down.
“You’re about one twenty-five short, Dave.”
“That’s my final offer.”
“No can do, amigo. I’m a seller under no compulsion to sell. I hold all the cards…or in this case, all the keys.”
“But, uh…”
“Why in God’s name do you have such a woodie about that thing anyway? You’ve never even tested it and I don’t even know if you’ve ever driven a pony car.”
“Okay. Good point, good point. How about we take it for a spin?”
“Can’t today. Not an anniversary. Besides, every mile added will decrease its value.”
Suddenly, he was back in the parking lot of the convenience store. Then just as quickly, back to reality.
“Okay. How about this? How about if I rent it from you for a few days. Get a chance to…to, you know…see if…see how much I really want it?”
Hendrick’s thought a moment.
“I suppose we could work something out. But it ain’t gonna be cheap.”
“Name your price. I’d be willing to spend…”
“Five hundred dollars a day plus $20 a mile willing?”
“C’mon, Jay,” he wheezed.”You think I’m nuts or something?”
“If you skip the or something part, yes.”
“How about two-fifty plus ten?”
“You think I’m nuts or something?”
“Or something.”
The man looked to his pet.”Rick? Do you think $300 plus $15 a mile would be reasonable?”
The dog was fast asleep.
“I think he nodded, Jay. What’cha think?”
“Deal.”
They went to the garage and removed the tarp, which Hendricks folded neatly and placed in the trunk after he removed the briefcase. Stonetree got into the driver’s seat and after closing the door rolled down the window.
“Say, Jay? I know before you told me that it wasn’t any of my business what you were going to do with the money if you sold the car, but that your uncle wanted you to do something creative with it.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m still curious. Would you mind?”
He leaned over and placed both his hands on the top of the door.
“Well, I suppose it’s part of the history of the car.” He paused a moment.”I met this woman, a young woman who’s a nurse here in town. She works with these teenagers who’ve gone through the worst CYD symptoms, the ones that are supposed to kill you, but these kids didn’t die. Most of them have brain damage and eyesight and hearing loss. Some are just zombies, sitting all day and staring at a chair or a picture on the wall, or at nothing.”
“It must be horrible.”
“It’s heartbreaking. So anyway, I was with her one day over there and I got to thinking how good we have it, people who are healthy, live in nice homes, drive nice cars. We take it for granted. I do, anyway. So I decided maybe it was time that I set aside a little time to be thankful for what I’ve got.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to work there for a few months as a volunteer. These kids…their families…face a bunch of other problems that they need help with. Especially financial ones. The money from the car should cover
my living expenses for a good stretch, with a lot left over for helping in other ways. I won’t be living like a king but those kids don’t either. Enjoy the rental.”
“I will. And thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”
“Take care. And take care of the car,” Hendricks said, patting the hood.”What about your Jeep?”
“Keys are in the ignition. It’s yours ’til I get back. No charge for mileage.”
Halfway home, his trans beeped showing Jip as the caller.
“Hey hombre,” Spotswood began.”I was just thinking about you and ran a loc check to see where you might be up to some mischief. And knock me over with a feather, you will be astonished to learn you are a mere…are you driving?”
“Sure am, buddy.”
“You will be astonished to learn that you are no more than a ten minute detour away from, which if you accept this assignment, our all-time fave lunch dive…”
“The Comeback?”
“…where I am waiting for the doors to open so I can raise my cholesterol level a few hundred notches with a cheeseburger, fries and a beer. Maybe two. Hungry?”
“Famished.”
“I’ll be here, Stoney.”
He took a hard right at the first light then reconsidered as he wanted to make a stop along the way. The necessary path came instantly to mind.
When he reached the Barnes & Nobel he parked at the curb, ran in to pick up a fresh copy of Inside the Box: On Tour with Pandora’s Obsession—even though he already had one at home—then continued to the pub where he and his friend must have shared at least 20 lunches.
Spotswood was already seated at their favorite corner table, the one most distant from the juke box, chatting with the owner Dottie and stood to greet him with the usual admonishment, “No hugging, no kissing, por favor.” Stonetree nodded, paused a beat then purposefully extended his hand for a shake.
“Why do you do this, Dave? When did you develop this sadistic streak of yours? Getting some kicks as a kid pulling the wings off of flies or the legs off of spiders?”
Stonetree gestured to the sports coat draped over a spare chair.”Got your usual six pack in there?”
“Matter of fact, no.” He grinned.”Already used up two.” Then after a deep breath he reached across and squeezed Stonetree’s hand, yanking it up and down a few times.
“Let me guess. Gotta take a piss now?”
“Matter of fact, yes.”
As Spotswood headed for the men’s room, Stonetree sat down and started watching the newsreel playing out in his mind, the scenes as clear and detailed as if they’d been filmed moments before.
They began at the beginning—Homeroom, orientation day of his sophomore year in high school when the vagaries of the alphabet landed a guy he’d seen before but didn’t know in the seat directly in front of him in the first row. The monitor, a man named Zerphas, hadn’t shown for the starting bell so the 40 assembled students began conversing. With nobody to his right, and the person to his left already talking to somebody else, Jip had turned around and introduced himself. The proctor never arrived so the two had a great 45 minute conversation. Turned out they both loved music, were both interested in photography and were going out with freshman girls who lived two blocks from each other.
Then the double date a few weeks later, a concert by the popular regional band Crescendo Climbers, followed by pizza at a joint a mile from the showcase.
Then maybe a month after that when, while driving around in Spotswood’s mother’s car, his friend pulling over into a vacant parking lot then removed a joint from his shirt pocket and raised an eyebrow. Stonetree had never smoked pot but relished the chance to give it a try. He recalled the smell as if someone a table over was toking up, and also that over the next two hours he’d never laughed so much in his life.
Then there was a series of snippets. The always very cute to beautiful women that had come and gone in their lives, Jip’s always the more cuter or beautiful. Attending one of the city’s universities and always scheduling at least one class together every quarter, alternating the choices. Meeting three other students who would eventually join them to form the lineup of the pop/rock group Stamp Collection, Spotswood perfect as the pretty boy lead vocalist, he as the obligatory bassist. The year they went their separate ways at different graduate school to pursue careers in accounting and writing.
“Okay. I’m back. Fresh as a newly diapered baby.” Jip seemed puzzled.”Did you decide to leave your irises at home this morning or have you started in on acid for breakfast again?”
“Hmmm?”
“You know that phrase All hat, no cattle?”
“Yeah.”
“Well you’re all pupils and no blue.”
He thought a beat, a reasonable explanation arriving swiftly.
“Annual eye exam earlier. Those drops do make you look kinda wild.”
“Tell me about it. I got pulled over once when I weaved over the yellow line and the cop was sure I was higher than a Georgia pine. Showed him my invoice and all was well.”
Relieved that his improvisation had settled things, he reached to the bag, then passed the book across asking, “Could you dedicate this for one of your biggest fans? But before you do, tell me why you don’t go by Jip on the dust cover?”
“Ah…my first editor who did Wheels Up? She didn’t think it was appropriately seriously authorly. Said it sounded like the name of a discount tree farm.”
“Makes sense.”
Spotswood chuckled then examined it.”This hasn’t even been opened. I would’a thought you would have at least read it by now.”
“I have. Twice. This is…just sign it, huh? Pretty please.”
“Twice?”
The waitress stepped up and requested their orders. Both of them chose the Going Back to Comeback half-pound cheezer, a pair of Coors’ Lights and agreed to split a basket of rings. She nodded then noticed the book.
“I just finished that the other day! It is so cool. I love that cat’s writing.”
Stonetree gestured.”Meet the author.”
She stared a moment, then took a step back.”No. Really? You are Jonathan P. Spotswood? The Jonathan P. Spotswood? Hi! I’m Rosemary.”
He nodded shyly as she extended her hand. He looked to both sides, then back as she eased closer. Stonetree broke into laughter as Jip reluctantly shook it.
“It’s so cool meeting you, sir.” She paused.”Funny, but I thought you were much taller.”
“Always pleased to make the acquaintance of a satisfied customer. Thank you.”
“Could I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Are you related to the guy who writes for Pinkiefinger? Jip Spotswood?”
“I…we might be distant cousins or something. Why?”
“You’re a lot better writer than him.”
“I am?”
“Could I ask another question?”
“Sure.”
“Is Laura Loveland really as nice as she always seems?”
He made a face as if the answer was going to be unpleasant.
“No.”
“Awww. I really love her.”
“You should. She’s much nicer than she always seems.”
At face value, Pandora’s Obsession’s founder, lead singer and half of the composing team of Watts & Loveland was about as tailor-made for stardom as a young woman trying to break into the music business could have wished. Her vocal abilities, musician skills and composing chops were matched only by runway model looks including almost six feet worth of height. Her lavender eyes sparkled like a pair of rare diamonds and her long, slender hands could be more expressive than a finely tuned harp. But she had other ideas on how to deploy her assets.
Though the fascination with Strippers Disguised as Singers that began to rise in the 1980’s and peaked two decades later with an overabundance of hip hop hotties was already in decline, she’d all but put the SDSs out of business by purposefully downplaying h
er skills at matching their shakes and struts, except when she’d deliver an occasional 15 seconds worth, always drawing a huge ovation from their loyal followers, The Obsessives.
Instead of overblown, laser-filled productions, Pandora’s Obsession relied on simple lighting, crackerjack musicianship and the always crowd-pleasing patter that went on between most numbers. As variable from concert to concert as was their amorphous set list, the singer moved effortlessly from jokes to stories to philosophy, often assisted by Pamela Watts’ second banana shtick as if they knew exactly what a given audience’s mood was on any particular night.
This unique talent was the key to the band’s unbelievable charts residence. Soon labeled ConClips, month after month PO released a combination audio/video offering recorded with three cameras and strictly following a patter/tune/patter/tune/patter format. These First Tuesday compilations were eagerly awaited by the group’s immense fan base which regularly downloaded between 40 to over 100,000 units on release day like clockwork.
Loveland’s authenticity and lack of conceits was so genuine and endearing that it had made her and the band favorite performers across a broader spectrum of listeners than any competitor. It was no accident that PO had been featured at halftime in two of the last four Super Bowls nor that LL always ranked high in Most Admired or Most Trusted polls.
All this despite—or perhaps because of—her bisexuality, which she neither wore on her sleeve nor tried to conceal. But even at that, her self-effacing observation that If a girl wants to make out with another girl, there’s a number of possible explanation including the absence of another guy. On the other hand, she led a virtually monastic life as she famously awaited Mr. or Mrs. Right, in no particular order.
Then there was the famous IPO.
With the guidance of Chucky Tessler, the band had consolidated Pandora Publishing, Pandora Productions, Pandora Records, Pandora Audio & Video, Pandora Tickets, Pandora Merchandise, pandorasobsession.com and Pandora Logistics, along with themselves, into the corporate entity Pandora’s Obsession, Inc., then transferred 49% of the stock to the closed-end mutual fund Pandora’s Box of Obsessions (PBOO, NASDAQ) which in turn would terminate after ten years had elapsed.
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