The Middle Man [A Broadway Romance]

by Gregory A Kompes

  We released our grip on one another. I led her across the street, a hand at her elbow. She used my arm and the rail for support as we climbed the stoop.

  "Oh, my, this is lovely. When the Richards lived here, they had a table just like this in the entryway. They always had a big bouquet of flowers in a cut crystal vase." Emma May held her arms out in a large round, showing how big the flowers were. And, the table was always covered with a delicate, handmade, Irish lace cloth that draped almost to the floor. As a little girl, I once hid under the table for an entire afternoon. You see, my mama used to be the Richards' cleaning lady. We lived on the third floor of this house for many years and…" Emma wandered into the parlor. She was silent now. She wandered back into the entryway and into the second parlor. She ran her fingers lightly along the furniture and door jambs as she passed. Emma May headed back to the entryway and down the hall to the kitchen. She touched the counters and crystal drawer pulls. "Why, these are the same. It's hard to believe that they survived all these years."

  "No Miss Johnson, we did some research and chose drawer pulls and cabinets that were from the appropriate time period."

  She looked at me for a moment. I couldn't get a read on her thoughts. Sometimes, I get an impression of what people are thinking, but Emma May Johnson was closed off to my abilities at the moment. "That's lovely." She moved to the wall and slid the pocket door. If you didn't know it was there, you'd think it was just a wall. She entered the butler's pantry. "The wood smells fresh."

  "Yes, this room had to be totally restored. The previous owners had ripped out the cabinets. I'm not sure what they were using the space for." I followed Emma May into the dining room.

  "I've always wondered why there aren't any windows on this wall," she said, more to the windowless wall than to me.

  "There's another room behind this one."

  "Nonsense. I lived here. I never saw a room." She was angry.

  "Yes, here, follow me." I led her back into the kitchen. I slid another panel of the wall, exposing a small storage room. From what we could find out, this was originally a maid's room." Emma pushed past me into the small space. "We've been using it as a store room. Bulk shopping when things are on sale."

  "We all do. That means you were raised well."

  I was suddenly curious how she came to live in the house across the street.

  "When the Richards children were grown, they sold this house and moved to Nyack. We had to move. The lady across the street needed a maid and my mother took the job. That old lady, Miss Zeemak, she was a widow, outlived her spinster daughter, too. She left everything to my mother, who left it all to me when she passed. Well, that's almost twenty years ago. In those days, it was uncommon for an elderly black woman, even here in New York, to own a whole brownstone in a neighborhood like this one. No one asks any questions of me, but in my mama's time it was out of the ordinary. I was a school teacher myself. I have a college degree from Barnard. One of their first Negro graduates." She beamed with pride for a moment and it dawned on me that I hadn't asked my question out loud, only as a thought in my head. "You're not the only one with a connection to the other side, Mr. Donovan," she said with a wry smile, her eyes twinkled and then Emma May vanished before my eyes.

  I stood from the table and led Ellen into the living room. As guests found a place to sit, the bartender brought them their drinks. Clara and Sam had their heads together over a small stack of music he’d selected earlier. Some were pieces he knew Clara knew; others were songs he'd always wanted to hear her sing. The two laughed and poked each other as they made selections for their after-dinner concert.

  After a mental debate with myself, I called Sam over to me. He excused himself from Clara and I whispered to him: “Before the evening is over, please have Ariel sing a duet with Clara. I think she’d be perfect for the second lead in your show and I want that seed planted in Clara’s head.”

  “‘Sisters,’ that or ‘Bosom Buddies’ from Mame, maybe?” Sam was in a wonderful mood.

  “Maybe both? Whatever you think best,” I said, kissing Sam lightly on the lips. I watched him cross back to Clara and they went back to their conspiracy.

  "Sir," Malcolm was at my ear. "It's that line," he whispered.

  I considered not taking the call, but my team’s buzzing in my head caused me to think better of that decision. I settled into my office chair and picked up the phone, "Duke Donovan."

  "Duke, so sorry to bother you. I know you're having a party," said the general. I wondered how he knew, but didn't pursue it. "We're out of the hole. I've taken over the office, but the man you told me about, the famous son, he was killed during the fighting. I'm very sorry about that, but I really didn't have anything to do with it. Not directly." He waited.

  My team was silent. There was obviously more the general needed or wanted to say.

  "The people are very upset. You said they would be with his death."

  My team buzzed. But, I knew there was more.

  "There are two men I'm considering…"

  "Both are wrong," I advised. "Did the famous son have a sister? She works in the media, something with the newspapers?"

  "Yes, I can't think of her name at the moment. She's one of the first women in our country to hold such a high position."

  "She's your man." I said confused by the phrase that came out of my mouth.

  "What?!" General Samovar shouted. "A woman?! That will never do."

  "That's what I'm getting. Her name starts with an 'S' perhaps?" I asked.

  "Yes, yes, Silviana."

  My team virtually screamed in my ears. "That's it. She's the solution to your current problem. Listen, General, I know that there are many issues in your nation. I know that there's a history of oppression, but I can tell you that you either need to change with the times, create a modern semblance of order, give the people some new rights and privileges, or you’re going to lose the war you've started."

  "You said before that we'd be successful."

  "The famous son's death," I wished I could call forth his name, but he was gone now, "that's changed everything. I'm sure I told you that the future isn't yet written, that every action can alter what's coming. The future has altered a lot since we spoke last time. But, if you can guide the people to a calmer place, you'll have a nice run. I also think that if you don't make this move, Silviana is going to rise up against you. She'll use the power of her pen over your bullets. If you have her murdered," as I spoke I realized that the general had ordered the murder of the famous son, "if you have her murdered as you did her brother there's very little hope that you'll survive more than a few days. There are other governments massing arms at your borders to protect first themselves and possibly overthrow you." My team went quiet.

  General Samovar was silent.

  Clara Tells’ lovely voice lofted into my office. I was missing the concert.

  "Duke, is this really true?"

  "General, it's what I'm getting. Oh, and if you're not interested in following my advice, if you're going to continue to use the advice I give you in such a negative way, I don't know that I can be of much more assistance to you. One of the things I can tell you about my connection to the other side, they're not going to keep providing information if you're not going to use it properly."

  "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

  I thought for a moment. "I'm just a guy with a connection to the beyond who is willing to share the information I receive."

  The phone line went dead. I hoped that I wouldn't be next.

  “How does it feel?”

  I looked up to see a dark figure sitting in one of my wing backed chairs. It was the figure from the park, the one I’d assumed wrongly was Henry. Just because I knew he wasn’t physical didn’t give me any peace.

  “What do you want, ghost?”

  The dark apparition didn’t speak. I watched the energy of it float and shift, all the while it maintained its position.

  “I have a party to get back to
.” I attempted to stand, but felt like I couldn’t move. I called on my team in my head, but they were silent.

  “Those spirits of yours will do you no good in ridding yourself of me.”

  “You’re not welcome here. I release you to the light,” I said, trying to conjure more words I’d read about helping lost souls transition. It was strange, because I knew from my own team of spirit guides, that there isn’t really anything such as trapped or lost souls. There was some reason I was aligning with this energy, with this entity.

  “See, you don’t have all the answers.”

  “I’ve never claimed that I do,” I said, defiant. After a very deep breath, I willed myself out of my chair and moved toward the door. The knob was hot to the touch. I suffered through the discomfort and opened the door, closing it behind me. Again I called on my team, yet they remained silent.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I knew it was him as soon as he crossed the street. Young, handsome, well cut muscles, no shirt, he wore only tight shorts that left little to the imagination of what they covered, and sneakers. Does anyone call them sneakers anymore? I'd just adopted Aristotle, from a friend who had to leave the country quickly.

  The dog stopped to sniff a hydrant. While he did his thing, I watched the young man. I wanted him, no question about it.

  The boy came closer; a light sweat covered him, like he'd been running. He stopped near us. "Nice dog," he said.

  "Thanks," I replied and added, "You're not so bad yourself."

  He smiled wide, showing straight, white teeth. "Billy," he said, offering me a sweaty hand.

  "Duke," I said and took the offered hand.

  "You and the pooch live around here?" he asked, looking up the street. "I could sure use a shower."

  It was like porn dialog. I looked up the street, expecting to see maybe a UPS truck or cable man waiting in the wings. "Just up the block," I said, not finding anyone else to invite along.

  "Let's go," he said, taking his hand back and a step in the direction I'd indicated with my head.

  Billy was the first of my morning men. It became routine, I'd walk the dog around six and bump into these handsome young men: joggers, drunken boys from the closed after-hours club around the corner, nice boys putting out their mother's trash cans. Sex with these men wasn't emotionally connected, just a way to get off, to satisfy a carnal urge. Occasionally I'd see one of these tricks a second time, but never anything beyond a quick romp, a little release. These weren't men looking for relationships. These were men taking advantage of their good looks and a lonely guy with a dog. I didn't mind, it was what I was looking for, too.

  I arrived back downstairs at the party in time to hear Clara and Sam's closing number, "Suddenly Seymour." Clara later told us it was her first public performance of a Little Shop song. She was marvelous. Sam expertly followed her lilting voice, with his own part, complete with a Jersey accent.

  The audience applauded for several minutes as our stars took their bows. Clara motioned to Ariel, who stood for a moment to receive some accolades. I was glad to see that that linking had gone well. Clara and Sam had connected. Their performance served a second function, as a backer audition for Bert and his partner, Jackson. They were already interested in producing Sam's show, and this performance cinched it.

  Most of the dinner guests got up, stretched, headed for the bar or one of the bathrooms.

  "Duke, this has been a wonderful evening," said Ariel.

  "Thank you, my dear. Have I told you how lovely you look?"

  "Only about a million times." She fluttered a bit and then offered a twirl that showed off her flouncy cocktail dress. "I love this dress. I love Clara and Sam. I love this party. I love you, Duke," she said, hugging me.

  "You're a little drunk," I said with a friendly smile, enjoying that my friend from the dog park was having a good time.

  "There you are," said her date, Tom.

  "Where else would I be?" Ariel said, releasing me from her arms and shifting her nimble limbs around her date.

  "Duke, thank you so much for everything," he said, poking his arm out of Ariel's grasp.

  I shook it as best I could. "You're not leaving?"

  "I have to be up very early in the morning. I work early trading," he said as Ariel kissed his cheek.

  The young maid assigned to coats appeared with Tom and Ariel's outerwear. I watched as he deftly handed her a tip. If you weren't looking for it you would never have noticed him do it. I was impressed.

  "Thank you for everything, Duke," Ariel said as she spun into her coat with a light laugh.

  My guides gave me images of Ariel as a flapper, leaving a trail of beads from her gowns wherever she went, always smiling, always appearing happy and hopped up on bathtub gin or champagne.

  "You're very welcome, Ariel. I'll see you at the park. Tom, thank you so much for seeing her safely home."

  I tuned in to the energy. There would be sex between them. They both wanted it. This was husband material for her, but not wife material for him. Tom wanted someone more stable and conservative for his future as a politician. Ariel would serve well for fun for a few weeks though. I was rather sure that she'd be a bit hurt, but would quickly get over it.

  There was a steady stream of departing guests. I stayed near the door, watching the maid do her job, saying goodnight to my friends and acquaintances. Much to my surprise, my father and Lola, who had been on their best behavior after the bartender incident, asked the maid for their coats.

  "We're off, son," said my father. His voice was quiet, his look tired, a little drunk.

  "Duke, this was the most amazing party I've ever attended. I'm very impressed," said Lola, allowing my father to help her with her wrap.

  "I'm so glad you've had a lovely evening," I said as she kissed my cheek. I could feel the lipstick she'd left behind. I shook my father's hand. "Need a cab?"

  "Please," he said, holding tight to my hand.

  That contact allowed me to get the messages. "Dad, are you feeling okay?"

  He didn't look me in the eye, very unlike my father. "No," he said.

  "Malc—" he was there before I'd finished. "Have the driver come around quickly. He's taking my father to St. Vincent's." By the time we arrived at the street, my car and driver were there. I held the door open. "Lola, call me if you need anything." I shoved my card into her shaking hand. I watched as they sped off, brought out of my thoughts by the flash of a camera.

  "Mr. Donovan!" a reporter shouted.

  I ignored him and went back into the house. It looked like Lola might make the papers tomorrow.

  "Duke, is everything okay?" Sam asked when I entered the living room. He and Clara were sharing the piano bench.

  "I don't think my dad's going to make it through the night. Lola is taking him to the hospital." I slumped into a chair. Malcolm pushed a snifter of warm brandy into my hand.

  "Do you want to go to the hospital?" Sam asked.

  "No, there's nothing to be done. His heart has had enough." I sipped brandy and followed the images in my head. Clear and straight forward. Dead before morning. "Malcolm, please send some comfortable clothes over to the hospital for Lola."

  "Yes, Sir."

  I looked around the room. The waiters and maids were cleaning and clearing everything while Sam, Clara, and I watched in silence.

  "Should I go?" Clara asked.

  "No, no," I said. I came back into the present moment and smiled. "You sang beautifully this evening. I'm so looking forward to hearing you again and again."

  Clara's cheeks turned crimson. "Duke, I can't begin to thank you for the invitation. I know that meeting you and Sam is very important to my life…" she hesitated.

  "What is it, my dear?" I asked, offering my full attention.

  "Could you…I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage or anything, but could you…?" As she tried to ask her question, she touched her hand lightly to a small locket at her neck.

  "Yes," I said. I could fee
l her mother was coming through. “Was that locket a gift from your mother?” Of course, I knew the answer.

  Clara didn’t offer a response. Instead she said: "Would you be willing to do a reading for me? I know it's a lot to ask after all you've done this evening and your father and all and I'll understand if—"

  "Malcolm would you get my cards from my office? Have them finish clearing the dining room table and remove the table cloth."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "I would be happy to do a reading for you," I said; her face grew redder. "What has you so embarrassed, Clara? You're mother is anxious to talk to you."

  "I've never done anything like this before tonight. I was raised thinking it's hokum....My what?"

  "Your mother. She's here with us. We all have the beliefs we were raised with and those that we decide on for ourselves," I said, enjoying the many different conversations going on between Clara and myself, me and my guides, and, of course, Clara’s lovely mother who was chattering away at me. "Your mother gave you many of those beliefs, she's the one who gave you the locket, or it was her locket? A gift to her from her father, and you took it when—"

  "How did you know about my locket?" She asked. Her embarrassment was gone.

  "As soon as you asked for a reading, your mother started talking to me." I pointed to a seat opposite me at the big table. Malcolm, after setting my cards in front of me, lit a tall candle and placed it between us, just off to the side. “More brandy, please.”

  We went through the routine. Several of the maids watched from a slight distance. The bartender leaned up against the door jamb. I liked his eyes, his smile. I hoped that he would stay while I returned my attention to the task at hand and laid out the classic Celtic cross tarot spread. As I turned card after card, I told her a bit about her life. Many of the images I received while reading her cards were similar to those I'd received during Sam's reading. They were very connected for the next round of their futures. I answered her questions about her mother. These caused a few tears, but there was joy behind those. Time went by quickly.