MAYBE THIS TIME

by Duncan More

  “Yes, bright idea. And I could do ‘You Ought to Get Married’ as a comedy number for the guys.”

  “Another one I don’t know.”

  “It’s a Jewish mother lamenting that her gay son needs to get married to keep up straight appearances for the neighbors and fellow synagogue members. It’s hysterical. Wait, I’ll go get it. Trust me, you’ll piss in your pants.”

  Dillon was in hysterics as Gia performed it, especially after he was told to picture a tasteful pink suit à la Jackie Kennedy with a pink pillbox hat with a little netting, a tasteful small pocketbook dangling from the wrist, and an equally tasteful kolinsky draped over the shoulders. Of course, Gia had to explain that a kolinsky was a small furry weasel – much less valuable than mink.

  “I know I’ll need one more number but I don’t have it down yet. Not sure what to do with some of the lyrics. Maybe you could help me. Come on upstairs to the Gia room. That’s where I always do my staging and practicing. It’s called ‘Nobody Does It like Me’ and yes, it’s from another Broadway musical.”

  They spent the next ninety minutes with Dillon seated on the bed, the computer playing the song over and over as Eugene showed what he had down and then trying some of Dillon’s suggestions. Dillon never realized how much time and effort Eugene put into each performance number. It was slowly becoming a unified performance but just not quite there yet.

  “Aren’t there any YouTube videos you could check out for some ideas?” Dillon finally asked when he could sense Eugene’s frustration beginning to mount. The next half hour flew by as they watched various performers doing the song. Eugene loved a nightclub version by someone named Rose Marie who was on an old television show called Hollywood Squares, but he never had heard of either her or the show and figured neither had the audience. He had to reject it, but there were some hand movements and facial expressions he could use, especially on the line, “When I talk like I’m a lady, what I sound like is a broad.” And then Eugene found Shirley Bassey’s concert video of the song and he was in love with it. Goodbye, Michele Lee, Hello, Shirley!

  On Tuesday, a very resolute Dillon entered the bank and immediately summoned Boyd to his office. “Am I correct that after eighteen years here at the bank you no longer wish to remain employed here?”

  “What do you mean? I did what you asked me to? I did a quick appraisal of the property, took the photos and e-mailed them to you promptly.”

  “Yes, you did. And that is the problem. You see, the e-mail address is exactly the same as that which has been sending mail to Ms. Williams accusing her of vile things to turn her against me. You weren’t as anonymous as you thought, Dick Long. And all those threatening letters I got. And the phone call to Mr. Fredericks’ home. You know with that IP proof, I can have you arrested for terroristic threats and a hate crime. I could also have Mr. Fredericks fire you.”

  “I guess I should go pack up my things.”

  “That’s not necessary. You do good work here. Seriously. If you feel you cannot work with me because of my sleeping arrangements, you could request a transfer which I will expedite for you. Although why you’re concerned with my bed partners, I don’t know. I certainly don’t think about yours. All I care about is how well you do your job, which other than the Cashwire research, is quite satisfactory. I found very few errors in your work when I was here pre-auditing you. Now the choice is yours. You can go pack your stuff and write a letter of resignation to Mr. Fredericks, or you can make a clean slate of things with Ms. Williams and apologize, make a sizeable donation to whatever her favorite charity is, tell me all this subversive action is ended, and get back to work.”

  “I’m sorry for the letters to Mavis, and I do like working here, but my religion comes first, and I couldn’t work for you. It would be like I was condoning your lifestyle which is against everything I was taught. That is something I just can’t do. I have little contact with Mr. Fredericks or your Eugene, but this would be constant day-to-day interaction between us. I’ll go write that letter.”

  “If you feel you must. But consider your family. Consider requesting a transfer in departments. Maybe payroll. You are good with numbers and we do payroll for two of the big box stores in the mall. And being on the second floor, you wouldn’t have much contact with Eugene or me.”

  “Guess my only option is to go write that letter.” He left the office and headed to his desk. Dillon was unsure which letter he would be writing – transfer or resignation – but either way the problem was solved.

  “What was that all about?” Greg asked when Boyd returned to his desk.

  “I screwed up and got caught. I will no longer be working here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I sent anonymous letters and made a phone call or two concerning Mr. Evans. My plan to get rid of him backfired. He has proof and confronted me. I didn’t think of the possible consequences but he could have me arrested.”

  “Shit, man. I told you to play it cool. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. As soon as I finish this letter, I have to go have a private talk with Mavis and then give the letter to Mr. Fredericks.”

  “I’m sorry, man. All these years of working together.”

  “So am I. The most ironic part of it all is that yesterday I thought about him on his knees under my desk giving me head and I started to get hard. That thought scared me. I know I like women, just like the Bible teaches us. I know I could never really let another guy touch me, but for a brief moment the thought did occur to me.”

  “I’m not going to preach, but can I suggest you reread Matthew, Chapter 20, the section about the commandments?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m just wondering if you are as loving as a good Christian should be. Just my humble opinion. You know, ‘Hate the sin but love the sinner.’ That kind of thing.”

  Boyd returned to his desk and started typing. He looked around the office for a box large enough for his possessions – his plant, his pictures of his wife and children, his lunch bag and five bottles of water. He stopped briefly at Mavis’s desk and offered his apologies for the nasty things he had sent to her. He gathered up his things and headed to his car. He returned to give Mr. Fredericks the letter he had written.

  Mr. Fredericks read the letter carefully. “I’m sorry you feel this way, Boyd. I hired Dillon to make the necessary changes this bank needs, and I am quite pleased with things the way he is handling them. I didn’t expect one of the changes would be you, but if you feel you cannot adapt, I can understand. We shall miss you. Despite a few instances, your work here has been impeccable and you can feel confident that I will give you a fine recommendation when you need one. Is there anything else you would like to say?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll have Tillie send you your final check.” He rose to shake Boyd’s hand, but Boyd ignored it and headed for the door. He couldn’t knowingly bring himself to let a gay man touch him even in a professional, non-sexual way.

  Using the intercom, he had Madge summon Tillie from Human Resources to come to his office. “Tillie,” he said when she came down from the second floor, “I have just accepted Boyd’s letter of resignation. Please draft his final paycheck. Include his two weeks of vacation and a note that we will cover his medical insurance for three months because of his years of service. Secondly, will you look through your files for applications for positions and pick out those who might be a good fit for the mortgage department and get those to Dillon by the end of the day? Thank you. By the way, that’s a lovely sweater.”

  “Oh thank you, sir. My mother knitted it for me. It was a birthday present.”

  “She must be quite a talented lady, your mother.”

  “I’ll get right on this. How many should I look for?”

  “I’d say between five and ten. Give him an option. Then you two can get together and set up interviews.”

  “Very good, sir.” And she was gone – back upstairs to her file cabinets.

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nbsp; “Madge, have Dillon come up.”

  Dillon quickly came to the office.

  “I see you handled the problem, though not in the way I had hoped.”

  “Not in the way I did either. I wanted him to stay, but he couldn’t bring himself to be working every day with me. I offered to recommend that he transfer departments either to teller or payroll, but that meant he was too close to Eugene or you. When he wasn’t sabotaging me, he was a good worker – fastidious, punctual, accurate. But he said he couldn’t do it – his religion wouldn’t let him stay.”

  “Will you, Mavis, and Greg be able to run the department without him or do you replace him?”

  “I’m sure we can for a few days, but the department really needs four people.”

  “Very well. Tillie from H.R. will be down to see you with applications. Look them over, make some tentative choices, get together with Tillie and interview them and make a decision. And if you know anyone locally that you think might fit in, get in contact with them to come in also for an interview.”

  “Nobody locally.”

  “Anybody you graduated with? I mean, if you’re an example of what Husson University puts out, they might fit in well here.”

  “No one I can think of off the top of my head.”

  An hour later Tillie knocked on Dillon’s door and entered carrying seven manila folders. “Mr. Fredericks asked me to give you these. You are to look them over and see which ones seem viable to you for Mr. Hopkins’ position. Then I’ll set up the interviews and we’ll meet them together at your earliest convenience. Is that satisfactory with you?”

  “Fine. I’ll look them over tonight and get back to you tomorrow. Sorry to have to put you through this extra work.”

  “No problem. It’s my job. It’s not often I get to do this part. Other than your hire, we haven’t had to fill a vacancy here in three years. That was Curtis, the teller with the diamond chip in his ear. He charmed the hell out of me with that smile. As far as I was concerned, he had the job the minute he walked into my office, not that that was the reason he was hired. He was well-qualified, impeccable clearances as he was an undercover investigator for the state police before that. His new wife made him give it up – didn’t want to be worried about his safety every day. Amazing what a guy will do for the love of his life. Major pay cut I’m sure, but fixed hours, home immediately after work instead of on the road a lot. Now they have an eighteen-month-old daughter. And bottom line is he seems happy with everything. Well, enough about that. See you when you’ve made some decisions.” She was gone in an instant.

  Eugene arrived for their lunchtime get-together. “So Boyd is gone, I see.”

  “Yes. I confronted him with the letters and he confessed. Couldn’t take the options I offered him. Said he couldn’t work closely with someone like me, and since I wasn’t going anywhere, he felt he had to. Now it’s up to me to replace him. That’s something I never expected. And if I choose the wrong person, I won’t look good.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m sure you’ll find the right person. When you start interviewing, I’ll have to make sure your balls are completely drained. Don’t want your gonads guiding you.”

  “Then I’ll schedule interviews for first thing in the morning and right after our lunches. For the first time, there will be some quick oral sex in this office instead of a salad.”

  “I’ll gladly toss your salad,” Eugene said, continuing the humorous turn the conversation had taken. “But one thing for certain, there won’t be anyone here back-stabbing you.”

  They had almost finished their lunch when Mavis knocked on the door. “Excuse me, your one o’clock is here a bit early for his loan interview. Think he’s trying to impress.”

  “Very well. Give me five minutes to look over his paperwork. Sorry to cut lunch short today.”

  Eugene took his cue, rose, and started to exit. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Evans. Be in touch.”

  Five minutes later, Mavis escorted the applicant into Dillon’s office. “Mr. Evans, this is Dennis Michaels. Mr. Michaels, this is Dillon Evans.”

  “Please be seated and get comfortable. And call me Dillon. Mr. Evans seems too formal if we are to become business associates. I see that you are asking for a loan of $25,000 to start up a business venture, am I correct?”

  “Yes, for five years.”

  “You don’t exactly state what this business is. Why is that?”

  “I have a friend who owns a building that we want to turn into a tavern, and he wants a partner, so he asked me.”

  “And how much does he want you to contribute?”

  “$40,000 and my time to manage it for a year to get it started and operating successfully. Be the front person for the enterprise in return for 50% ownership.”

  “What experience do you have with managing a business?”

  “I’ve been a bartender in the Poconos for five years.”

  “So how does that qualify you to be manager – you know, staffing and ordering and all the paperwork, etc.?”

  “Honestly, none, but I can learn. I know how to get along with people while providing excellent service.”

  “Where would this tavern be?”

  “412 North River Street.”

  “What would you be offering as collateral?”

  “I guess the building.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. You’d have to own the building. Seems your friend does. He’d have to be the one applying for the loan.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that. I guess I could have my parents offer their house.”

  “Then they’d have to ask for the loan. They could give you the money and you repay them and they’d repay us.”

  “I see.”

  “Tell me more about this tavern. What would be so special about it that would attract enough customers to sustain it?”

  “We’re thinking sports bar with lots of televisions during the day and on weekends, and get some performers like Flame or Jolene over at the Way Station to put on a show periodically. Get some of the gay crowd over to our place. Save them from driving down to Scranton for a pick-up.”

  “You want to capture the gay crowd as you called it? Right? Draw them from the Way Station?”

  “Well, that’s my idea. My friend just wants the sports aspect. TV and pool and darts – that kind of thing. But those guys peter out by ten. Gay crowd doesn’t seem to come out till then and that’s four more hours of business.”

  “That’s a unique concept.”

  “Not really. The Silhouette Lounge in Scranton did it that way for years, I’m told. Up until the owner retired. New owner went all out for the courthouse crowd. Lawyers, cops, that ilk.”

  “I see.”

  “So what do I have to do to get a loan?”

  “Have your parents come in and apply. That’s the best thing I can do for you. As it is now, with no collateral I could never recommend this loan to our Board of Directors. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you for your time. I’ll be back, like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

  After dinner, Dillon started looking through the files that Tillie had given him and was severely disappointed in the prospects. While on paper the seven all seemed to be nice people, not one was even remotely qualified to be anything more than a teller handling routine deposits and withdrawals. The one most qualified of the whole lot was Sidney Carter and a routine background check had revealed not one but two arrests for driving under the influence. Regardless of whether it was alcohol or drugs, there was no way Dillon could even justify considering him. Reliability and accuracy raised a red flag. He cast the folder on the left side of the kitchen table.

  Next was Maryanne Williams Thomas. She was in her mid-forties and looking to reenter the workforce after raising two children. She claimed minimal computer skills. He expected someone would have experience with spreadsheets. Her file went to the left. Peter Bonner had been laid off from a Scranton factory in Scranton when it moved to Alabama. His résumé did lis
t his position as payroll clerk, so there was a possibility. He put the file on the right side of the table. Leonard Cholewa was next. A recent graduate of the University of Scranton, he had his bachelor’s degree in accounting. He was immediately placed on the right side, although Dillon felt that some firm somewhere had already scooped him up.

  Nicholas Hughes was the next file. The boy had no qualifications and no work experience. Other than just graduating from high school, there was nothing noteworthy about him. Background checks had revealed nothing, but then he probably had not enough freedom to do anything to even get noticed. Another file for the growing left pile. But the last name rang a bell in Dillon’s mind. Back in some of his classes at Husson University, there was a guy named Owen Hughes. They were casual acquaintances, but no one would call it even a mild friendship. He was a sharp cookie when it came to business subjects – a rival to Dillon’s own acumen. Suddenly there was an image of Owen in his mind – medium build with jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, well-manicured hands, immaculate in dress, a kinky smile on his face. He suddenly realized he had been subconsciously attracted to the man, though back then he didn’t realize it was a sexual attraction, and of course he did nothing about the feeling. He remembered even more. Owen had gotten his girlfriend pregnant and after two months she told him she had taken care of the problem: she was not going to let having a baby thwart her planned future. He was livid when he found out what she had done. After all, the baby was half his. He felt he should have been consulted. They broke up almost immediately. It tore him up so much emotionally that he missed a lot of classes and lacked enough credits to graduate without attending summer classes, which should be ending shortly. Academically, he would be a good fit. Dillon made up his mind to contact the campus first thing in the morning and get Owen’s phone number and extend an offer of an interview if he had not found a job yet.

  Walter Rush was the next file. He was a retired banker in Scranton looking for part-time employment. In his file was a glowing recommendation from his former bank president and Walter was quite familiar with mortgage and loan departments. He was a possibility. While he, like everyone else, would have to learn the new Intellex system, at least he knew the basics of the business. Maybe the department could run on 3.5 staff. The questions that crossed Dillon’s mind were “How long would he be around and would he take directions from a twenty-one-year-old?” His file went on the right for the time being.