by JT Kalnay
"What are we going to do?" Fishky asked.
“We’re going to put the NYPD and the FBI to work for us. Either they find him and convict him of one count of attempted murder and fourteen counts of murder, or we find him. And if we find him…”
Chapter
Screaming fire truck sirens snapped Jay out of his coma-like sleep on the edge of the sidewalk. His head felt like it was going to explode. He realized it was after dark.
"Damn,” Jay said. "How long was I asleep?" he asked the old bag lady. She was gone.
"Damn,” Jay repeated. He looked at his wrist and his watch was gone. He felt in his pocket with increasing dread, his wallet was gone too. Jay scrambled to his feet and realized the final insult the street vultures had visited upon him. His shoes were gone.
Damn. Now what am I gonna do? Jay thought about finding a cop and telling him he'd been mugged. "No,” he told himself. "They'll take me in and who would I call to get me out. Ted? Rick? Jay tried to think. His eight hours of sleep on the sidewalk had helped his mind considerably. He felt more able to hold his thoughts together.
Maybe Tonia can help? Jay thought. She did try to warn me.
"She'll love you to death,” he heard Rick say from long ago.
"She loves me. I know she does,” Jay answered the voice. "They must have threatened her or something,” Jay told himself. "She'll have to help me, or at least tell me what happened,” he whispered. Passers-by had begun to look oddly at him when he spoke out loud.
She'll help me.
Jay scoured his pockets and found six cents. "Those animals,” he cursed under his breath. "Where am I going to get a quarter for the phone and some shoes? Think man think.” Jay stood huddled against the building, braced against the early spring night air. A bus advertising discount golf equipment and apparel churned by in a cloud of diesel fumes.
My locker at the Golf Club! Jay snapped his fingers in the cold night air. I've got my golf clubs and clothes there. I can get a shower and change and get inside out of the cold night and think. Jay started shuffling in his socked feet along the dark lonely concrete towards Wall Street.
"Yes?" the attendant asked through the intercom at the club.
"Let me in,” Jay said impatiently.
"Your code?"
"Come on. You know me. Let me in.”
"Your code?"
"072261Jay Calloway49,” Jay answered.
"Okay,” the attendant said. Jay pulled open the buzzing security door.
"Sorry to bust your balls like that sir. But they put up a camera. I gotta follow the rules. What happened to you?" the night attendant asked.
"Mugged,” Jay half-lied.
"You want I should call the cops?"
"No,” Jay answered.
"You sure?"
"Yeah,” Jay said. "All they got was my shoes, watch and uh… my stash, if you know what I mean?” Jay made a toking charade with his hand and mouth.
"Riiight,” the attendant smiled, happy to be let in on the illicit details of the supposed crime. "No need for the cops.”
"Riiight,” Jay echoed. He went down the hallway to his locker. The combination lock opened easily and soon he was in a hot, soapy, decadent shower.
"So what's my next move?" he asked the showerhead.
"Call Tonia,” his heart said.
"Call Rick,” his head said.
"Cry,” his soul and the little scared child inside him said. The frightened child won. He stood in the shower crying for twenty minutes until he could cry no more. He finally snapped off the water and toweled off. He gave his nose an enormous blow to clear the accumulated runoff of his weeping.
Now I'll call Tonia, he resolved.
"Lookin' good Mr. C. the Wall St. Golf Club desk attendant said. "You want I'm calling a radio cab take you home?"
"No thanks. I'll walk.”
"You sure? You already been mugged once.”
"No. I'm sure,” Jay said as he walked out the security door into the cold spring night. The outfit he'd taken from his golf locker was a classic. Blue golf pants, white t-shirt under a white golf sweater with a navy V neck, a red MIAMI wind breaker and the same high top Nike basketball shoes that a month before had been loaded with Agent Warren Fishky's radio transmitter.
"Okay,” I've got one credit card, twenty bucks and a pack of subway tokens. Now what do I do?" he asked himself. "My apartment is out of the question. I better get out of town and call Rick. He'll know what to do.” Jay started down the subway. At the bottom of the steps he made eye contact with the street person.
That guy must live down here 24/7.
"What if they're looking for me down here?" he thought. "And what about Tonia? I have to call Tonia. I have to know.” His obsession overcame his reason. He turned and headed back up the steps. The street person watcher radioed the contact.
Jay Calloway walked quickly to Broadway. Even at this late hour there were still a good number of people out and about. "And cops,” Jay noticed. "They don't seem to be looking for anyone,” Jay noticed, "but I better keep to myself to be safe.”
Jay kept walking uptown. He was looking for an out of the way pay phone from where he could call Tonia. Block after neon block passed him by and soon he was in the dregs of SOHO. Several bars were open and doing a good business. College crowd, Jay thought.
He wandered into Paddy McDuff's on Broadway just south of Houston Street. The smell of stale beer, cigarettes, sweat, and unbridled co-ed sexuality hit him all-at-once. On the few occasions that he'd tried the college bars at Miami they'd been just like this. Beer, sweat, and sex all wrapped in one. Jay instinctively went to the bar and got a beer. He moved towards the back of the bar where it seemed a little less crowded. His eyes were scanning the bar for anything unusual, looking for anyone he might know from work. As he scanned, Jay saw one of his favorite video games from years gone by against a back wall and saddled up to it. A pretty red head was working the controls furiously.
"Nice move,” he observed, his troubles momentarily forgotten.
"Get lost,” she answered.
Jay shrugged his shoulders and put his quarter on the edge of the machine so that he'd have dibs on the next game. Amidst the greatest of crises, the true videoholic can and will escape into an electronic world of video surrealism.
"Could be a while,” the pale skinned girl said.
"I can wait,” Jay answered. “I’ve got all night.” I got nowhere else to go.
Minutes passed. Jay watched her score rise. As she went from level to level Jay congratulated her. She remained aloof and maintained her tight focus on the game.
Finally the aliens boxed her in and she used up all her ammunition trying to fight her way out. There were simply too many aliens. Her video demise was painful and graphic.
"Not bad,” Jay said. "Not exactly the way I'd play it but an interesting strategy never the less.”
"Yeah like you can do any better old man,” she said, turning on him, red hair flying out to the side. She pulled her beer from the side table and took a big gulp.
"Watch and learn child,” Jay said cockily. He fed his quarter to the machine. It came electronically back to life. Jay started deftly handling the controls of the alien killer.
"It's been a while since I played this one,” Jay commentated while he played. “But back in the day I used to have a clue…” He moved his outlander through the intricate paths on the screen, dispatching non-beings at a much slower rate than the girl had.
"It doesn’t pay to be too aggressive at these lower levels,” Jay explained to the red head. "The goal is to advance, not to annihilate,” Jay lectured. "You have to save your ammo for the higher levels and the nasties up there,” he said. "These guys you just avoid,” he explained as he jumped a slow moving robot.
"Uh huhn,” the girl said, not buying it. The defiance in her voice was clear.
"I see it'll take some convincing,” Jay said as he advanced to the next level.
"Damn right,” sh
e said draining her beer and slamming a quarter onto the ledge of the game. She went to the bar for another beer. Jay was still playing when she returned. His electron-dragon slayer dodged wave after wave of beasts intent on his extinction. As he advanced, he stored prodigious amounts of ammunition. When he easily passed her high score she issued a tiny harrumph and drained half her beer in one gulp.
"Not bad,” she said. A large beer belch came flying from her mouth. As the machine readied itself for the next highest level, Jay looked away from the screen at her momentarily. She was downing the rest of her beer. He looked her up and down.
"Where are you putting all that beer?" Jay asked. "You're just skin and bones,” he said.
"Fuck you,” she said. Jay turned back to the game. Ten minutes later he'd freed the last intergalactic prisoner and set a new high score on the machine. The bartender delivered a pitcher of beer as his prize.
"Nice,” the red head said, filling her glass with Jay's beer. Jay could see the glow of the brews in her face. "Want to play doubles?" she asked him.
"Sure,” Jay said. He could never resist a video game. He never put any games on his computers at work or home because he knew if he did he'd start playing and never stop. He'd lose his job, his house everything. Whereas his father had succumbed to the bottle, Jay Calloway had managed his addiction by only playing in arcades. He studiously avoided electronic warfare on his own systems. He fished two quarters from his pocket but she beat him to it, feeding the machine before he could.
"For the beers,” she said.
"Thanks,” Jay answered.
For the next hour they stood side-by-side in the hot smoky bar dodging and slaying aliens while the red head downed Jay's entire pitcher of beer. Her bony hip rubbed against his. As she leaned in or over for a shot she would brush a shoulder against him. Jay picked up the rhythm and also the smell of the beer on her breath and the sweat from her gaunt body. He found neither attractive. But the proximity was still proximity between a boy and a girl. A drunk girl. And an emotional boy. Between the two of them they easily dispatched all the aliens and freed the electronic prisoners.
"Good game,” Jay congratulated her when they were done. "I'm Jay,” he said holding out his hand.
"I'm horny,” she said grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the bar. Jay started to protest, but then went easily.
What the hell? It's not like Tonia and Angus didn't just try to kill me or anything? I guess I don't owe her any loyalty. And I do need somewhere to get in out of the cold.
She led him two blocks to an NYU dorm. Her sex was fast, athletic, and unprotected. She fell into a beer and sex induced sleep right after she came. Talk about being aggressive! He hadn’t even learned her name.
Chapter
Jay Calloway awoke to an empty bed. The red head was gone. Jay shuffled to the small bathroom in her dorm room. His eyes were still half shut as he lifted the toilet lid and relieved his complaining kidneys. Turning to the sink he splashed some water on his face. Looking up into the mirror he saw a mask that he barely recognized.
Jay's healthy spring training tan had turned to pale programmer skin in just one short week. Deep dark fleshy sacks had taken up residence under his eyes. Worry lines had returned to his mouth and had also appeared on his previously smooth forehead and around his now sunken blue eyes. As Jay stared at his own countenance, the awful memories of yesterday came back to him.
"I can't believe that after all that shit I ended up here with some skinny college kid,” he spoke to the mirror. "Now what am I going to do?"
As he pondered the question he realized there was a note stuck to the side of the mirror nearest the commode. Jay read it.
Gone to class. Back around noon. 212-555-2729. Call me. Morag.
"Nice,” Jay said. "At least I know her name now.” Pulling the note off the mirror, Jay walked back into her tiny dorm room and sat back down on the bed. He clicked on the radio that stood on the desk beside her berth. Jay leaned back against the painted cinderblock wall. In classic avoidance denial behavior he started to drift back towards fitful sleep. He no sooner had his eyes all the way shut than the news on the radio jolted him back awake.
"In this morning's top story. Local, state, and federal police are still searching for Jay Calloway, the prime suspect in the bombing murder attempt on Angus MacKenzie of MacKenzie Lazarus yesterday at the World Financial Center. Police believe Calloway acted with dual motives. Calloway allegedly was having an affair with MacKenzie's estranged wife and wanted to see Angus MacKenzie out of the picture. Second, again allegedly, Calloway may have been behind a flurry of illegal activity surrounding the Panamanian currency crisis. In a startling development, Calloway may also be implicated in a nearly year old missing person’s case turned murder involving Maria Fernandez.”
Jay sat in gape-jawed disbelief. The radio announcer went on.
"Reading from a prepared statement, the Calloway family lawyer spoke on behalf of Calloway's parents.” The recorded voice of the lawyer from Athens leaked out of the radio.
'We don't believe any of it. Jay is simply incapable of such things. He knows nothing of bombs or murder. We are hopeful that someone with true information about what really happened will come forward and clear our son.”
"Way to go mom,” Jay said. The radio continued.
"A spokesman for MacKenzie Lazarus indicated that Calloway had been under investigation for unspecified security trading violations. He was also under suspicion for a recent unauthorized extended absence from the firm.”
"Calloway was the chief architect for MacKenzie Lazarus' new electronic currency trading programs. In other news..."
Jay clicked off the radio.
"I am in deep shit,” he said out loud. "Deep shit.”
Jay stood up. He paced a few steps in tight circles around the small room. Looking at Morag's desk he saw a pad of those yellow post its. 'To Do Whenever' was stenciled across the top. Jay sat down at her desk, pulled a pen from her overcrowded drawer and started rapping it on the pad. After he wasn't sure how long, he read the list he'd written:
Call Rick
Eat
Get Cash (lots)
Get OUT of NYC (where to?)
Find somewhere to hide (months? years?)
See Tonia? (why should I?)
Kill Angus? (don't have a gun)
As he sat there looking at his list, he heard footsteps approaching in the hallway outside the door. Jay tensed. They couldn't possibly have found me here. The door swung open. Jay froze. Morag and a girlfriend walked in, both shocked to see Jay Calloway sitting at her desk.
"I guess this isn't a good time Mo?" the new girl said lasciviously.
"I guess not,” Morag answered. Both girls giggled and the new girl retreated, closing the door behind her on her way out.
"I didn't expect you to be here,” Morag said.
"I overslept.”
"No shit. Don't you have to go to work today or something?" she asked.
"I called in sick,” Jay lied.
"Well in that case,” Morag started. She didn't finish her sentence. In two minutes she was naked and seated on his lap. Before he could protest she was kissing him and grabbing at his shirt. She undressed him in a hurry and threw him down on the bed. She rode him like a wild woman. When she was done, she rolled off of him, worked her way over to the edge of the bed against the wall and fell sound asleep. Jay watched all this like a separate distant observer. He was amazed by it all. It was the first time he'd ever had sex and not come. He watched his just used dick shrink and shrivel.
After a minute he turned to his list. Morag's phone was a skull and crossbones model. He opened the plastic cranium and dialed Rick's machine.
"Hi. Unless you've been off planet I guess you've heard I'm in a bit of a pickle. It's Thursday noon and I'm still okay. I'm going to hide out. If you can, please let my parents know I'm okay but I can't contact them okay? I'm going to make one more call then head for South Podunk.” Jay hung
up the phone. He crossed the first item off his list.
Looking at the second item, 'Eat', Jay realized he was extremely hungry. Morag's tiny room continued to surprise him. There in the corner by the door was a little dorm fridge. Checking to make sure she was still asleep, he slinked over and opened it. Beer. Completely filled with beer. Not one single thing to eat.
"Shit,” Jay murmured. But then his eye caught something interesting beside the fridge. A full bag of Doritos. He tore into the bag and started crunching away. Jay looked at the skinny sleeping body of Morag. She was blissfully slumbering through his crunch fest. Where the hell does she put it?"
Jay climbed back into his clothes, preparing to skulk out of her room. He saw her purse on the floor beside the door where she'd dropped it in her sexual frenzy. He looked in.
"Money!" he exclaimed. Reaching in he pulled out one hundred dollars.
Where the hell does a college kid get a hundred bucks? Jay wondered. He remembered his own poor days in college. Jay guiltily looked to see if she was still asleep. He wrote her a short note and put it on the desk.
I borrowed $100. You can get it back from my ring, or from the newspaper article you’ll be able to cash in on soon. Thanks for everything. Jay Calloway. Jay slipped off the gold ring his mother had given him for his graduation and dropped it on the note. He hoped it was worth $100. Jay slipped out of her room.
Chapter
Once outside in the warm spring day Jay started to feel much better. He was in motion. It felt good. He was suddenly sure that in a city the size of New York no-one would know him. He relaxed. If he'd seen his picture on the television news like 2.5 million New Yorkers had the night before and like another 3 million had this morning he might have thought differently.
"Now what?" he asked himself. "I've gotta get out of New York. But on a hundred bucks? His stomach growled, the Doritos just weren't going to be enough. Responding to his hunger for some real food Jay drifted into a stand-up pizza joint on 4th Ave. He got two slices and an extra large diet coke. He could feel the first unmistakable signs of caffeine withdrawal. Just as he was finishing his two stacked and folded slices, an old Italian woman behind the counter started shouting. She was alternately pointing at Jay and motioning at the television. Jay looked around to see who she was pointing at. He saw no-one. When he looked up at the TV he finally saw what had excited her. His college graduation photo was right there in living color over the perky newswoman's shoulder. He couldn't hear what she was saying and didn't stick around to find out.