The Right Kind of Stupid

by John Oakes

  Cody tilted his head, unsure he was hearing her correctly.

  She...she had come to the hospital? She waited for him? Cody could not quite grasp that image.

  "That was very kind of you." He said it with perfect, genuine feeling.

  He felt that odd sensation again, when someone is looking right in your eyes. He was lost in hers. The purple clutch Kelly had been holding with elbows bent slowly fell until it rested at her waistline.

  "Oh, it was...just...I..." She looked down, away, then back up to him. "I met your friend in the waiting room. Ricky was it?"

  "You met Ricky?"

  "He was sweet. I can tell he cares a lot about you."

  "I can't imagine what you two talked about."

  "We talked about Kant, actually."

  Cody leaned forward, face askew. "Say what now?"

  "He doesn't strike you as a Kant-lover right off the bat does he?" Kelly laughed.

  Cody's look of dismay grew deeper.

  "Not sure how we got on Kant. He asked about my legal studies, then we got on political philosophy and then at some point we just couldn't stop talking Kant. Kant, Kant, Kant!"

  Cody's mouth hung agape. His eyes were wide and perplexed.

  "That Ricky sure knows his Kant."

  Cody's mouth worked dumbly to voice any of the numerous questions set to melt his brain out his ears.

  "We still need to get those papers signed, you know," Kelly said in a burst of realization. She was more animated than he'd seen before. But champagne did that to people.

  She snapped her fingers. "I was going to call you Monday, but my briefcase is in my car with everything still in it from last time. Do you have a minute to spare?"

  "Lead the way."

  They walked from the main tent into the darkening evening air, and Cody saw Ricky off a ways, returning from the trees. Emerging from a set of public bathrooms behind Ricky, Cody saw the two girls and guy he had seen Ricky speaking with earlier. He chuckled to himself as Kelly began explaining the terms of his grandfather's challenge.

  "As I said before, this sort of arrangement is quite rare. My largest job, legally speaking, in the preparation of this will was the suspension of the largest portion of your grandfather's holdings from Mrs. Van Zyl-Latour. According to the law in Texas, a person's assets do not have to go entirely to the surviving spouse. However, they cannot be left out in the cold either. Accommodations must be made at a minimum to afford the surviving spouse a lifestyle similar to what they had before the death event.

  "Oh, so like alimony."

  Kelly looked up at him and laughed. "Your grandfather said the exact same thing. Strange as it is, yes, they operate on the same concept."

  She wiped away the small smile playing at her mouth and continued.

  "Your grandfather elected not to have his assets liquidated so as to avoid tax penalties. So the exact figure of the remaining sum varies from day to day depending on the markets."

  Cody nodded his tenuous understanding. "Ballpark it for me."

  "Right now, I believe the total sum is 84 million dollars. As I said before, in the event of you succeeding, you will be handed all of these assets. If you fail to complete the conditions of the will within one year of the day you sign this paper, um..." She looked up at him.

  "I get the lay of the land. Monica."

  "Then yes the assets will be liquidated, tax penalties will be incurred and the monies separated fifty-fifty between charity and Mrs. Monica Van Zyl-Latour."

  Despite his assertion and despite the time he'd had to digest this information, Cody felt a distinct tightness in his gut and chest. He put his hands in his pockets, breathed deep and tried to focus on the information Kelly was relaying. In the end, he settled for looking at her soft, glossy lips as they moved perfectly through and around her words.

  "...We do not anticipate that his will happen, but it is always a strong possibility, especially given the strange nature of the estate."

  Cody nodded, pretending he heard and understood.

  "The one million dollars is defined as the profits of labor, sales of goods or services, or the creation of equity. That translates to mean that for example, you could buy a house, and then sell it a year later and add the increased value from that house to your total sum. You could also work at McDonalds for the million, but, well, you get the idea. Or you could sell one million widgets and win if you profited one dollar on each after expenses. Also the sum of one million dollars is pre-tax. You grandfather was no fan of taxes and did not care to make you subject to them for the purposes of this arrangement."

  "Okay." Cody wanted to ask what a widget was, but stopped himself.

  "Lastly, no one can give you money for a stake in the final estate."

  "Pardon? Like an investor?" Cody asked cocking his head to one side.

  "No, no. For instance, no one could come to you and offer you one million dollars in exchange for five million after you got your grandfather's money. Bona fide inve—

  Kelly let out a startled "Whhaaaaooop" and she hurtled diagonally in front of Cody. She was headed face-first to tumble ass-over-tiara into the ground. Cody bent and shot out an arm. He caught Kelly under the waist, but was now moving with her, set to crash into the turf. He took a step and leaned back up, actually picking Kelly up into the air. He took more stuttered steps and stopped their momentum. Kelly was facing out from him, pinned to his body by one of his arms, her feet dangling inches off the ground. Cody bent his knees and set her down gently.

  Kelly turned around, eyes showing her shock. "Oh my. Close one." She rearranged her hair and straightened her dress. "I never wanted to be that girl who drinks too much at weddings. It gets worse each passing year."

  "It's dark, but I'm pretty sure I saw that tree root jump up at you."

  She smiled. "Thanks for..." Kelly took a deep breath and fanned her reddening face with one hand. "Thanks for that."

  Cody nodded, and, after a moment, they started walking again.

  Kelly huffed once more to catch her breath, and said, "Now where was I?"

  "Something about a bone fight?"

  "Oh right. An investor, a legitimate investor in a legitimate enterprise is well and good. All investments or loans you incur are to be removed from the value of your sum total profit. To prevent problems, I encourage you to keep copious records of your business activities and keep me apprised of all investment and undertakings. As far as the estate is concerned, I am the impartial judge and jury. But if you keep me informed, there may be more detailed or nuanced restrictions that I can warn you of, preventing you from making a mistake that could ruin things down the line. Do you have an accountant, Mr...Cody?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Consider hiring one if you develop an income stream."

  She removed her car keys, and they stepped off of the grass onto a sidewalk. "From here, Cody, it might be helpful if you told me what line of business you were thinking of utilizing, so I could tailor my instructions to you."

  "Umm..." Cody trailed off. What line of business? Cody had no clue what he would do to make a million dollars.

  "There seems to be good money in drugs."

  Kelly laughed again, caught off guard. "I couldn't advise that. Although now that I think of it, there is no provision barring illegal activity." She smiled thinly and said, "Let's call it an informal rule."

  Cody signed the papers on the trunk of her Camry. Not a particularly momentous beginning, he thought, but at least it was not a Honda. She kept pointing and he kept initialing in at least a dozen places.

  "I can have copies made for your records by Monday."

  Cody bit his lip and simply nodded, though he wanted to laugh. His records? Sure, if by records she meant him setting them on the couch and forgetting about them, then sure, records.

  After Kelly returned the papers to her bag, she removed two white envelopes. "In the event that you signed these papers, I was to give you this letter." She handed it to Cody solemnly. "In
the days just before your grandfather passed, he also sent me this second letter, to go along with the first. I've marked their order in the corners, 1 and 2." She handed it over to Cody. Both had his name scrawled across the front in his Grandfather's looping cursive.

  "I wish you luck."

  "Thanks, Miss," Cody said softly, unable to take his eyes from the letters. "I'm gonna need it. Can I walk you back?"

  The thought of getting to walk another hundred yards with Kelly Carson made him want to dance.

  "I think I might take this as a chance to leave. I have a court appearance on Monday, and yeah. Lots to do."

  "Sure you're ok to drive?"

  "It was the heels as much as the alcohol. I promise."

  She offered out a hand and he mechanically shook it, forgetting to soften his grip, as he was a million miles away. He gave a brief nod, turned and walked back to the festivities determined to start a business by 9am Monday if only it meant Kelly Carson could examine his books.

  How long did it take to become an accountant? She would probably go for a serious accountant type. Maybe he should have gone to Cornell like his dad wanted. They would not have offered recreation management, and then he would have been forced to do a real major like accounting. Maybe he should have just done all those things he hated so he could have been, in this moment, someone entirely different. In a suit, not dressed like a teenager who got dragged to a wedding by his mom. And with a better haircut, not from the Great Clips in that strip mall by Kroger, but at a real salon. With an expensive watch and a taste for finer things. With a chiseled physique that his trainer Hans helped him mold from fury and small, evenly-spaced meals.

  With a career, a purpose.

  Like a normal, together person.

  He held the letters up and looked at them, wanting to squeeze them until all the answers and all the solutions came gushing out. He stopped walking, and, instead of squeezing them, put the letters in his front pants pocket, careful not to bend the corners.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two Fifths

  Cody found Ricky at the fancy, makeshift bar in the main tent.

  "Rick," Cody said somberly, "I need to start a business."

  Drink in hand, Ricky jerked his head to one side and Cody followed him. They walked out of the tent, away from the sound of the dance floor. Ricky turned around under an old, grey tree and brought his cigarettes out of one of his blazer pockets. He lit up and said, "Talk to me."

  "What's a widget?"

  Ricky exhaled. "Like a made up product, a placeholder for an example," Ricky said, exhaling. "Why?"

  Cody looked up and sighed. "I just...Lawyer gal said I gotta make the million selling products or services, or I could sell a house or something."

  "Sell a house?"

  "Yeah," Cody said painfully, "for the etiquette." He turned and looked down at Ricky. "That means money right?"

  "Equity? Pretty much."

  "Goll, I need an equity or something. I need it quick. I don't know what to do though dude."

  "Easy. Best not stress over it. Worry in one hand and shit in the other. See which fills up first."

  Cody saw a group of three tuxedoed men that were smoking cigars emerge from the trees to his left.

  "Groomsmen," Cody murmured to Ricky. He moved to turn his back to them. He was in even less of a mood to run into anyone he knew from the old days. Cody kicked at a rock, trying to appear nonchalant and hopefully go unnoticed. Ricky just stood exactly how he was, smoking luxuriously, like some sheik after copulating with his entire harem.

  "Well, hey there shit stain!"

  Of course...Tagg.

  "And what's your freaky little friend's name? Billy was it?"

  "We don't know each other. Let's keep it that way," Ricky said not bothering to look at Tagg and his lackeys.

  "Whatever you say. But if I ever need someone to star in a low-budget porno in the early 80s, I'll definitely be looking you up."

  "Just go away Tagg," Cody entreated, waving in the direction of the main tent. "I've had enough of your jibes for one week."

  "Why is it that we only see each other at weddings and funerals anymore?" Tagg asked, affecting a sweet, feminine tone. "Why don't I bring a Frito pie over on Sunday and we can let the kids play together."

  Tagg's cronies laughed dutifully behind him.

  "So," Tagg continued, "how did you and your little butt buddy here get invited?"

  "Ain't your wedding Tagg."

  "Well, seeing as how I'm a groomsman, is it not my duty to protect this wedding from any and all fuck stains I encounter?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, Tagg, but we're invited."

  Cody had been, and Jason was his plus one. Ricky? Well...

  Tagg stepped up close in Cody's face. He tapped cigar ash into the space between them so it fell down on Cody's sandaled feet. Cody resisted the urge to step back away from him and stood his ground, uncomfortable as that was. Cody was going to lose here. It was only a matter of losing as little dignity as possible before the interaction ended.

  Ricky on the other hand was just as likely to stab a bitch.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Cody saw Ricky put his hand in his pocket slowly.

  Tagg smiled a toothy white grin at Cody and looked right in his eyes.

  "Well, alright then. Please, by all means, since you are an honored guest, then why don't you come have a drink with me and the boys here?" At this the two boys in question exchanged an amused smirk with one another.

  Cody admired the martial arts, in the movies at least. One of the tenets he'd learned from watching Jet Li and his ilk was that an opponent's offensive motion could be used against them.

  "Why, Tagg, that sounds lovely. What are you drinking?"

  Tagg paused for just a millisecond.

  "Alright," he said pondering his next move. "Follow me."

  Then again, those Jet Li types actually knew Kung Fu and shit.

  Tagg ordered five whiskeys and passed them out. Cody beat Tagg to the punch and raised his glass.

  "To the happy couple!" Cody tipped back his glass. They were now obliged to drain theirs or look weak. Then again, Cody hoped this wouldn't turn into some sort of drinking competition, as he'd slammed down a couple stiff drinks already. Maybe if he could bluff and head things off at Blackout Pass.

  "Allow me to get another round."

  Cody came back and passed out more drinks to this odd group of Tagg, his two cronies and Ricky. Ricky sure as shit wouldn't put up with assholes like them ordinarily. He was no stranger to bullies, himself. Nevertheless, he'd probably let Cody play this out a ways in the vain hope of Cody getting one over.

  Before Cody could formulate a second salvo, one of the lackeys, a big, fiery redhead with pale skin and freckles, held up his new glass.

  "To Tagg, for his new promotion!"

  Tagg leaned back and held a hand up, shrugging as if to show humility. Cheers sounded and the redhead held his glass up to Cody before tossing back the entire thing.

  Picking up the thread, the other crony asked, "What's that new fancy title again? Strategic Operations Supervisor?"

  "That's exactly right Leonard," Tagg said with a nod. "You see, I'm now possibly one more promotion away from being a VP of one of the largest wholly domestic oil companies in the US, Latour Mining and Oil."

  This little performance was not disturbing to Cody. He didn't give two shits about Tagg's promotion. Of course guys like Tagg got promoted. It was in the DNA of corporate life.

  "If you're looking for a job, Cody, we might be hiring." Tagg paused to hand his empty drink to Leonard, the one who looked like a former football player who had gone fat and bald. "But I'm not sure we have janitor's jump suits tall enough for you."

  His boys laughed dutifully again and Leonard took his cue to go get more drinks.

  "I mean, I'm, not too proud to clean toilets for my beloved company. But, well, if I knew how to get rid of shit stains..." Tagg's eyes went from playful to
menacing. "...You wouldn't be here."

  Cody's mind went blank, forgetting the subtleties of strategy. All he felt was the cool sting of Tagg's words. He rocked back on his heels and breathed to keep his eyes from growing misty.

  Cody almost walked away, seeing no benefit in standing there, taking abuse. But then Leonard arrived back at their table with fresh whiskeys.

  Cody sat down and leaned back, one hand on his knee, one holding his glass.

  "You boys gonna talk, or you gonna drink?"

  Tagg's expression grew curious. Then he smiled, recognizing an opportunity, not his normal shit-eating grin either, but a real smile.

  Was Cody the Jet Li of drinking?

  Only one way to find out.

  ************

  Darkness had descended. The gold stringer lights were the only illumination now in this part of the tent as most of the votive candles on the table had burned out. Tagg, Cody and Leonard were still seated at the table. The first one, Alex, had dropped after only thirty minutes and six shots. The big ginger was somewhere puking up expensive wedding food.

  There'd been only so much Tagg could wheedle Cody with. His attacks had always been like a jet fighter passing overhead. Zoom in. Missiles away. Return to base. But for the last half hour, even Tagg had grown bored with his usual banter. After the second bottle was halfway gone, a genuine conversation had broken out. It started with sports, naturally, but gradually the non-threatening exchange of words and the increasing blood alcohol levels released some of the tension.

  "You ever gonna get a job, Cody?" Tagg asked.

  Cody just shrugged.

  "What do you do with yourself all day? Honestly. I'd go crazy."

  "I stay occupied."

  "Don't you want more out of life? Do you want anything out of life?" Tagg asked the question with frank curiosity and glassy eyes.

  "Maybe I do." Cody was dancing between the teeth of the tiger revealing himself in any way to Tagg. But he was numbed with drink to the threat and fascinated by the rare opportunity to know his enemy.

  "Do you believe in heaven Cody?" Tagg asked.

  Cody leaned back and cocked an eyebrow, unsure where the question was leading. "I guess. I hope so. I just ain't clear if we're gonna be like ghosts or if we'll be like real people again with bodies."