Collection (6 page)

~

The air in the Body Shop had a thick, sour smell that only comes to a place after years without sunlight.
 
I stood inside the door, waiting for the bouncer to finish his conversation with the man in front of me.
 
When he did, he looked me over and reached for his hand stamp on the table by his stool.
 
“Six bucks.”

I took out my wallet and handed him a ten.
 
“I’m looking for someone who works here.
 
A guy named Max.
 
You know if he’s here tonight?”

The bouncer looked up, and all at once I got the feeling I’d said something wrong.
 

I waited.

The bouncer handed me my change and said, “He’s inside.”

I went in.

The main room was big and scattered with tables.
 
In between the tables were two single girl platforms.
 
Along the far wall, a line of booths stood open to the room, each one facing the main stage.
 
The music was loud and the dancers swayed in the swell of smoke like naked corpses hanging from the rafters.
 

None of these girls looked younger than thirty, not even close.
 
This was a parade of caesarian scars and stretch marks, bruises so deep even the red and purple stage lights couldn’t hide them.
 
I watched for a while, more out of a morbid curiosity than anything, then went to the bar and ordered a beer.
 

The bartender was blonde, younger than most of the dancers, but still long past getting carded for cigarettes.
 
She took a glass from the back shelf, and I stopped her.

“In a bottle.”

“Our glasses are clean.”

“I don’t think I’ll take the chance.”

If she was offended, it didn’t show.
 
She took a bottle from the cooler, opened it, and set it on the bar in front of me.
 
“Four-fifty.”

I paid her.
 
“Have you seen Max tonight?”

She pointed over my shoulder.
 
I turned and saw a guy sitting alone in a booth in the corner with his back to the wall.
 
I took a drink and headed over.

When I got close he looked up and squinted.
 
“I know you?”

“No,” I said.
 
“I wanted to talk to you.
 
Got a minute?”

He nodded.

I sat down across from him.
 
“Colletto said you might be interested in earning some extra cash.
 
Was he right?”

“Depends on the job.”

“Protection.
 
I need someone to watch over a friend.
 
She’s going through a divorce, and the husband isn’t taking it too good.
 
I need you to convince him to behave himself.”

“Who’s the woman?”

“I was hoping you could meet her.
 
Tomorrow night?”

He laughed.
 
“I need to know more about what I’ll be asked to do.”

“Why does that matter?”

Max leaned across the table resting his elbows on the tabletop.
 
“Because if you want me to break his arm, that’s gonna cost you less than if you want something more serious.”

I sat back and took a cigarette from my jacket.
 
I offered him one and he took it.
 
“I don’t want you to do anything but make sure nothing happens to her.”

He reached for a pack of matches on the table, lit one and held to the end of the cigarette.
 
“Tomorrow night?”

I wrote an address on a napkin and handed it to him.
 
“Nine o’clock if you’re interested.”

He took the napkin.
 
“I’ll decide tomorrow.”

~

When I got home Ava opened the door and ran outside.
 
I got out of the car and she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me, pushing me back.

When she let me go I asked, “What’s that for?”

“You got it,” she said, then kissed me again.

There was a mistake, I was sure of it.
 
I shook my head.
 
“The Settler’s job?
 
No, I didn’t.”

She smiled.
 
“There’s a message on the machine.
 
They want you to start Monday.
 
They even gave you the dinner shift.”

Ava was moving up and down on her toes.
 
I tried to get my head around what she was telling me.
 
When I went inside I hit the play button on the machine and listened for myself.

“’Hello, Mr. Davies,’” the voice said.
 
“’This is Walter Holland at the Settler’s club.
 
I wanted to call and inform you that we would like to hire you as evening sous chef.
 
Can you be here Monday afternoon, say, three o’clock?
 
Please call me if this doesn’t work.’”

He’d left his phone number, and after I’d listened to the message three times, I picked up the phone and called him.
 
I looked at my watch.
 
It was late, but I took a chance he’d still be there.
 

I was right.

“It turns out we have a sudden vacancy in our kitchen,” he said.
 
“So we would like you to step in.
 
You do feel confident with the position of sous chef, don’t you Mr. Davies?”

I told him I did.
 
Of course I did.

“Any man who went to the Institute would, I assume.”
 
The tone in his voice hadn’t changed since the interview.

“You don’t believe me about my history?”

“Time will tell.”

“That seems like a big risk to take.
 
You don’t seem like the type of man who would hire someone off the street just because they claim to be a graduate of the Culinary Institute.”

“That’s right,” he said.
 
“I’m not.
 
Fortunately for you, one of our more regular clients at the Club put in a good word for you and suggested we hire you.”

I closed my eyes.

“We respect the opinions of our members here, Mr. Davies.
 
Therefore, you have a job.”

I couldn’t speak.

After a moment of silence, Walter said, “Monday does work for you, correct?”

I found my voice.
 
“Colletto?”

“He’s been a member longer than I’ve been employed here, and I’ve been through three presidents.
 
You’re obviously on his good side, and that’s good enough for me.”
 

Good side?
 

“We’ll see you Monday?”

“Sure,” I said.
 
“Monday.”

Walter hung up.
 
I kept the phone to my ear and thought about Colletto.
 
Maybe he did it because of my father.
 
Maybe I made a good impression.
 
Maybe he just liked to throw his power around and thought I was a good charity case.
 
Whatever the reason, I was happy for it, but at the same time I couldn’t see straight.
 
He might be my friend now, but chances are he wouldn’t be by this time tomorrow night.

The phone switched to a dial tone, and I hung it back in the cradle.
 
I turned around and saw Ava.
 
She stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
 
She was smiling.
 
It was the first time I’d seen her smile like that in almost three years.
 

It broke my heart to have to tell her.

~

“You’re going to forget about it, and you’re going to take this job.”

“I can’t do that.
 
Marcus needs me to—”

“Don’t start with what Marcus needs, Jack.
 
Fuck him.
 
I need you to do this.
 
Your son needs you to do this.
 
Marcus doesn’t need you to do anything.
 
He has his own son.
 
Let him take care of Marcus.”

“His son is a degenerate who doesn’t care if he lives or dies.”

“So it’s your responsibility?”
 
There were tears in her eyes waiting to fall.
 
“You’re putting him ahead of your own family.”

“He’s family, too.”

She laughed.
 
“That old man is not family.”

“He is to me.”

Ava stared at me for a moment, then shook her head and said, “How’d you get so fucked up?”
  

I didn’t answer, and she turned and walked out to the living room.
 
I stayed in the kitchen and listened to her cry.
 

The back door of our apartment opens onto a fire escape overlooking the alley.
 
I took a beer from the refrigerator and climbed out and sat on the cold metal stairs.
 
The air outside was cold and it felt good against my skin.
 
Down below I heard the homeless shuffling between the dumpsters.
 
I thought about the distance between them and me, and as far as I could tell, there wasn’t much of one.

The way I saw it, I had two choices.
 
Take this job and let Marcus go or help Marcus and lose the job.
 
If I took the job it would move my family out of this shit-hole apartment and get us on our way.
 
It was what Ava wanted, and it would be best for Jacob.
 

Then there was Marcus.

Why did I feel such a loyalty to him?
 
Was it because he was there when I needed a friend?
 
Did I feel some twisted father-son bond with him that kept me from thinking straight?
 
Whatever it was, it was making it hard to do the smart thing, and I knew it.

I was still thinking about Marcus when the back door opened and Ava came out onto the fire escape.

“Jacob is asleep,” she said.
 
“He’s growing so fast.”

I agreed.

“We need to start thinking about his future, and sometimes I don’t think you do.”

“That’s not fair,” I said.

“I think it’s more than fair.
 
What’s not fair is you putting Marcus and that diner before your son.”

I’d heard all this before, but when I went to speak she held up a hand, stopping me.

“Jack, we need this job.”
 
Her voice was cold.
 
“I don’t care how you got it, but it’s a blessing and we need it.”

“I know, but I can’t abandon Marcus.”