by Andrew Price
Corbin looked at the half-empty food container in his hand. “Sort of. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll join you anyway. I need to talk to you about something.” Corbin heard his doorbell ring. “Hold on a second, somebody’s at my door.” Corbin walked to the front of his one-bedroom apartment, turning the kitchen light on as he passed. Looking through the viewer, he saw his seventy-year-old neighbor’s grey hair. “Hi Mrs. Tuttle, I’ll be with you in a second.” He returned the phone to his ear. “Let me call you back. My neighbor just got back from the store, and I always help her with her groceries.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Actually, hold on. Where are you going for dinner, I’ll meet you there.”
Corbin thanked the blond girl in the skintight blouse and slid into the booth. Alvarez had already ordered. He still wore his work clothes, a pair of khaki pants and a golf shirt with the name of his employer embroidered across the chest pocket. Corbin wore jeans and a blue oxford shirt.
“Can I get you something?” the girl asked.
“Just a Coke please. I’ll look at the menu later,” Corbin responded. The girl smiled and walked away.
“Sorry, I couldn’t wait, I’ve been starving all day.” Alvarez began disassembling his burger. “They always put these things together wrong.”
Corbin looked around to make sure no one could hear them, which wasn’t a problem with the deafening noise from the capacity crowd. “I broached the subject with Beckett today.”
Alvarez raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”
“He’s on board.”
“Really?” Alvarez pulled a pickle out from under the patty with his fork. “I hate pickles.”
“He’s agreed to manage the duffel bag for you on the first trip.”
“Does he know who I am?”
“No, he only knows you as Joe Nobody.”
“I have to say, this really surprises me. When you said a couple weeks ago you thought he might be willing, all I could think of was how many times you told me he’s got this strict moral code.”
“Desperation can be very liberating. It lets people do extraordinary things, and he’s getting increasingly desperate trying to find a way to support his wife and kids. When he finally got turned down for that promotion. . . well, that was too big of an opportunity to pass up.”
The waitress returned with Corbin’s Coke and took his order while Alvarez reassembled his burger. When the waitress left, they returned to their conversation.
“Is he solid?” Alvarez asked.
“Mostly. He gets weak, but he can be shored up.”
“Great,” Alvarez smirked. “So I have to babysit?”
“No, not at all, but I do want you to watch him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like use his own credit card, and make sure he doesn’t keep any souvenirs from the trip.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“I trust him, but trust is no reason not to be cautious.” Corbin pointed at the pickle on Alvarez’s plate. “You gonna eat that?”
Alvarez shook his head.
“Oh, and don’t tell him anything about yourself when you meet. He doesn’t need to know anything about you,” Corbin said.
“Are you sure you trust this guy?”
“I’m just being careful, that’s all.”
“Do we really need him?”
“Do you want to go up there by yourself?”
“No, I can’t take all those documents into the banks.”
“There’s your answer.”
Chapter 3
Beckett arrived at work energized the following morning. He’d come up with several ideas during his commute home the prior evening, and he was excited to discuss them with Corbin. But every time he tried, one of their coworkers appeared at the door. They had just seen off the most recent visitor and now Beckett rose to close the door.
“Why are we so popular today?” Beckett asked rhetorically.
Corbin shrugged his shoulders without putting down his magazine. “Our advertising must be working.”
Beckett peered both ways down the hallway and then closed the door. “I’ve been thinking. If this thing works, and it should, then I can go back to my old job because I don’t have to worry about the salary. Whatever we get out of doing this would easily make up financially for the lack of a promotion.”
“Ok,” Corbin said cautiously. He put down the magazine, pursed his lips, and scratched his neck.
“If I give Kak my notice so I can quit and take back my old job, and we do this on my last day here, no one would ever think I wasn’t here. As long as I’m back in time for the goodbye party, everybody’ll swear I was here all day.”
Corbin winced. “That adds a level of difficulty. . . we wouldn’t have any flexibility about the timing for one thing. Plus, it’ll be hard to do your out processing without you here.”
“True, but I think it would be worth it. We should do it!”
Corbin bit his lip. “It’s an interesting idea, but we need to look at all the angles first. You realize we can’t use the money for some time, right?”
“That doesn’t matter. What I save in commuting costs should more than see me through for a few months. A train ride from New Jersey every morning isn’t cheap.”
Before Corbin could respond, Theresa knocked on their door. She entered without waiting to be invited, closing the door behind her. Nodding at Beckett, who waved politely, she perching herself on the edge of Corbin’s desk, where she always sat when visiting Corbin. Today she wore a black suit, as did Corbin, though his was of a more recent vintage. Moreover, he had removed his jacket, something she never did in the office. After crossing her legs, Theresa smoothed her skirt and pulled it to the top of her knee. She then stuck her right leg out in front of her and pulled imaginary fluff from her black stocking. When she finished, she let her leg hang and her shoe dangle from her foot. The show was intended for Corbin, but he refused to let his eyes be drawn to her legs.
“What’s this I hear about you having a bad date? Why didn’t you tell me?!” Theresa asked, trying to sound jocular, though hints of distress permeated her voice. As she spoke, she tugged at the single strand of pearls hanging around her neck.
“Tell you?! I didn’t tell anyone. They all just seem to know. Our office must be bugged,” Corbin said, raising an accusatory eyebrow at Beckett. “How did you find out, Theresa?”
“Ignore him, Theresa,” Beckett interjected. “He’s just grumpy.”
“I am not,” Corbin shot back.
“Why is he grumpy?” Theresa asked.
“The date didn’t go well,” Beckett said.
Theresa folded her hands in her lap and grinned at Corbin. “Do tell.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Who’s the girl?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Corbin repeated.
“She’s a banker, right?” Beckett interjected again.
“Banker, accountant, circus freak, what’s the difference?” Corbin asked.
“Oooh, a banker, that should be right up your alley, with that huge brain of yours,” Theresa said, smiling at Corbin. “What went wrong?”
Corbin looked at Beckett. “You’re doing a good job telling the story, why don’t you continue?”
“Sure. ‘What went wrong,’ you ask? Too normal. Lover boy doesn’t like the straights. He’s into the crazies.”
“I am not into the crazies!” Corbin protested.
“Crazies?!” Theresa laughed sharply. “Don’t let him anywhere near Molly! Heaven help us. The gates of hell would open up and swallow this office whole if the two of them ever got together.”
In an office with little to do, feuding becomes a form of entertainment. Sometimes, these feuds spin out of control. Of all the feuds taking place in the office, the worst was easily the one between Molly and Theresa. No one knew exactly how it began, but what turned the spark of disagreement into an all-out conflagration was Molly’s discovery that Theresa suffere
d from a great deal of insecurity regarding her attraction to Corbin. This was a big red button that was just too tempting for Molly not to push. And push it she did. Theresa retaliated by sniping at Molly’s physical traits, especially her height, which was a good five inches greater than Theresa’s, and her perceived lack of modesty in her relationships with the male sex. Theresa particularly took these shots when she spoke to Corbin, as she hoped to ensure that Corbin didn’t fall for any charms Molly may have. Corbin tried to stay neutral, but that wasn’t helping.
“I do not like the crazies,” Corbin repeated. “I like normal, thank you very much. And for your information, the date went well. She was just a little. . . dull, that’s all.”
“What made her so dull? Did she lecture you on how to deduct your socks on your taxes?”
“She was just dull. She was too. . . corporate.”
“‘Corporate’?”
“Yeah, like she’d been processed, like a chicken McNugget. Everything about her was conventional, standard issue. Her past, her plans for the future, all conventional. Her opinions, all thoroughly vetted by the Post. She even ordered bland food.”
“I think, my friend, the problem lies within,” Beckett opined.
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“You’re bored with yourself, so you find other people boring.”
“That would explain why he’s drawn to the crazies,” Theresa teased Corbin.
“I think you’ve both lost your minds. And you never answered my question, how did you find out about this non-date?”
“How do you think,” Theresa said.
“Molly.”
“Yep. She told her secretary, who told my secretary, who told me. You know the drill.” Theresa picked up Corbin’s watch off the desk. “Speaking of our girl, I saw you downstairs with her yesterday. So. . . what did she tell you?” Theresa asked coyly.
“Nothing.”
Theresa’s happy mood instantly succumbed to irritation, and a scowl crossed her face. “She must have said something. Speak!” She waved her hand at Corbin.
“All she said was she looking for some shoes,” replied Corbin, ignoring Theresa’s irritation. He shifted his attention to his computer and took a sip of his coffee.
“Shoes? Hmm. I didn’t know they made shoes in her size. . . at least not women’s shoes.” Theresa flashed an ugly smile, which created wrinkles underneath her eyes.
“Before you start,” Beckett interrupted, “you might want to get back to your office. Kak’s on the prowl today, and he’s already been in here twice.”
Theresa waved off his comment. “I don’t care about Kak.” She shifted slightly so she could see Beckett more easily. “Apparently, our little Molly had a date the other night with a banker, and it didn’t go well.” Theresa often described Molly as “little,” to ironically emphasize Molly’s larger-than-average build.
“There seems to be a lot of that going around lately,” said Beckett, referencing Corbin’s failed date. Corbin shot Beckett a nasty look in return, though Theresa didn’t notice.
“You won’t believe this!” Theresa said, far too happily. “This guy was perfect for her! He’s rich, which we all know is her primary requirement. He’s an up-and-coming junior partner at a local investment bank. He’s older than her, so we avoid a repeat of last summer’s crisis.”
Corbin and Beckett nodded involuntary at the memory of Molly’s behavior the prior summer.
“What’s more, for some reason I’ll never understand, he adores her! He’s apparently completely smitten with her, even though he knows all about her, uh,” Theresa cleared her throat, “unusually experienced past. Can you believe he doesn’t care about that? Incredible!”
Corbin ignored Theresa’s rant and opened his e-mail.
Beckett, however, couldn’t ignore her. “What’s the catch?”
Theresa’s smile broadened to the point that it appeared dangerously close to spreading beyond the confines of her face. “He’s two inches shorter than she is!”
Corbin rolled his eyes, thinking back to Molly’s comments about heels, but he remained silent.
“So what?” Beckett asked. He sounded confused.
“Exactly!” Theresa verged on giddiness. “For normal people like you and me, that wouldn’t be a big deal. But for her, a shorter date is an affront to her dignity! She spent the whole morning complaining to anyone she ran across. Then she called the friend who introduced them, and she yelled at her for setting her up with ‘McShorty.’ Afterwards, she called McShorty himself and told him he was too short for her.”
“She didn’t!” Beckett gasped.
“She did!” Theresa laughed. “This is the fifth guy she’s dumped in the last two months, and always for the shallowest reasons: too young, too cheap, too old, too bald, and now too short. Two more and she becomes some twisted Snow White.” Theresa grabbed a folder from Corbin’s desk and held it before her face. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the nuttiest fruitcake of them all.”
Corbin took the folder back. “Don’t start handing out any poison apples.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Theresa replied innocently, fluttering her eyes. “Poison’s far too slow,” she purred.
Beckett walked over to his filing cabinet. “I don’t want to know any more.”
Theresa looked at him. The smile on her face faded. She looked at Corbin, but he also seemed unwilling to continue the discussion. Annoyed at their lack of participation, she slid off Corbin’s desk and headed for the door. “I’m sorry to hear your date didn’t go well, Alex.” Her tone did not match her words. “But at least you’re still on the market, that’s all that matters. . . you’ll come around.”
When Theresa left, Corbin whispered across the room to Beckett: “See what I mean?!”
“She’s just lonely,” Beckett said, picking up his newspaper. “She’s got nice legs though.”
“Yeah, and she’s got something else too.”
“What?”
“My watch.”
“She did say you’d come around.” They both laughed.
A few minutes later, Kak burst into their office without knocking. He never knocked. It was immediately obvious he was furious. His face had turned bright red and was trending toward purple.
“What. . . what do you think you’re doing?!” Kak had difficulty expressing himself when he became nervous or angry, and the angrier he became the worse it got. “If you have problems. . . problems with the office, then you. . . then you tell me! You don’t. . . you don’t do this!” Kak rubbed his palm against his receding hairline as he yelled, and his gray beard shook. As he breathed, the buttons on his dingy, polyester short-sleeve dress shirt strained to contain his stomach. He wore no tie today, and no one even knew if he owned a suit jacket.
“What are you talking about?!” Beckett demanded.
“Th. . . this!” Kak waved a piece of paper at Beckett, before tossing it at him.
Beckett caught it out of the air. It was a GSA “pre-inspection” form everyone had filled out. GSA, the General Services Administration, was conducting inspections before renegotiating the office lease, and they wanted to know everything that needed to be fixed. Unlike everyone else, Beckett filled his out accurately.
“What’s wrong with it?” Beckett asked.
“What are you trying to. . . to do?!”
“I’m not going to sign off on this office being safe without listing the things I think are unsafe.”
“You’re not a s. . . safety. . . you’re no expert!”
“No, but I know exposed wires aren’t safe. Sparks aren’t safe. I know mold isn’t safe. I know people around here have a lot of respiratory problems.”
“Y. . . you’re not the expert! Let the expert do his job.”
“All I did was fill out the form honestly. The form asks for comments. I made those comments. What do you want me to do differently?”
Kak glared at Beckett. His face was now purple, but his eyes
registered trepidation. Beckett followed the form to the letter, and Kak could do nothing about it, but that didn’t stop him from getting very, very angry. Kak moved his mouth, but no sound came out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that? What did you want me to do differently?” Beckett repeated.
Kak took a deep breath before continuing in a low growl. “If you make these claims, GSA will. . . will need to address these with the. . . with the landlord. There’s no reason to draw outside attention to this office!”
Beckett didn’t back down. “What do you want me to do?” This wasn’t a question so much as a direct challenge. “Tell me exactly what I should do, and I’ll do it.”
“Small conference!” Kak roared, and he stormed off.
Beckett sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be back.”
No sooner had Beckett left, than Molly appeared at the door, holding a half-eaten cookie in her right hand. Molly’s office abutted Corbin and Beckett’s, and she often overheard what happened in their office, especially when the door was open.
“’Sup? Rumor has it Kak invited your buddy to his lair.”
“What are you doing, loitering in front of our office?” Corbin pointed at the cookie. “Hey, I know that cookie! I see you two came to terms?”
“Yeah, we worked something out.”
“Looks like you got the better end of the deal though.”
“Some you win, some you lose. So what does Kak want with your little friend?”
“Kak wants to make sure all of Evan’s safety concerns are properly addressed.”
Molly wrinkled her nose. “Did you ever notice Kak looks a lot like Santa, only evil?”
Corbin chuckled. “Yeah, that struck me too. Are you going for coffee?”
“Uh, hello! Cookie! Where do you think I got this?” Molly waved the cookie around.
“So you’ve already been?”
“You know, they’re right about you. . . you’re smart.”
“All right. Go paint your nails or whatever you do around here,” Corbin responded patronizingly. It was well-known Molly spent most of her day working on her nails or reading the paper. She preferred filing her nails into squares, rather than ovals, and painting them in darker colors rather than light. In newspapers, she preferred The Post, as do most government workers. When it came to work-related activities, she was less particular.