Jennifer Government: A Novel (38 page)

“So stick close,” Calvin said. He led Billy to a plastic table
surrounded by fast food joints, including a McDonald’s on one side and a Burger King on the other. “You want some lunch?”

“Yeah, sure. How about—”

“I can see you gentlemen are in need of some refreshment!” a man said. “Would you like some coupons for McDonald’s? Buy one, get one free!”

“Okay,” Billy said.

“Wait, wait a second,” someone else said. Billy saw a girl, also bristling with coupon books. “You don’t want to eat at McDonald’s; they rape the environment, didn’t you know? Here, have a coupon for Burger King.”

“Sure. Thanks.” He smiled at the girl.

“I don’t want to spread rumors,” the man said, “but I’ve seen that Burger King kitchen and it’s filthy. I wouldn’t want to eat there.”

“That’s a crock of shit,” the girl said. “At least Burger King doesn’t have traces of
dog
in its quote-all-beef-patties-unquote.”

“That was
one
store! In New
York
!”

“Look, we’ve got your coupons,” Calvin said. “Now go away, the both of you.”

The man and the girl left. “Aw,” Billy said. “She was cute.”

“I can’t answer my phone at night without some telemarketer trying to sell me something,” Calvin said. “Now I can’t sit down to lunch?”

“They were just giving away coupons.”

“Fine,” Calvin said. “So go get some McDonald’s.”

Billy looked at the Burger King girl. She was handing a coupon to an elderly couple. She saw him and winked. “How about BK?”

“I have a US Alliance card. I can get points from McDonald’s.”

“Dude,” Billy said, “I thought you Government people were trying to stop that shit.”

“All right, then!” Calvin said. “Get Burger King!”

“Keep your pants on.” He held out his hand. Calvin dug into his pockets. “So Jen was wearing some outfit this morning. I never knew she had such legs. What’s she up to?”

“None of your business,” Calvin said, but he glanced at the US Alliance building and that told Billy plenty. “Go get some food. I’ll be watching you.”

Billy trotted over to the line for Burger King and waited. The coupon girl was circling the square. Billy hoped she saw him here.

“What’s this?” a voice said. Five or six teenage boys were approaching the store, all baggy clothes and tattoos. “What’s the matter, you people don’t know where you are? This is an Alliance town. We don’t need no T.A. companies.”

Nobody spoke. Billy saw that their tattoos weren’t ordinary designs: they were logos. He saw a lot of Nike swooshes and NRA designs. The leader had a US Alliance logo on his shaved head.

“Go on, get lost! Go spend your money on a good company, not these foreigners!”

“Hey, hey,” the coupon girl said. She walked up to the skinhead. “Take it somewhere else, okay? Trying to earn a living here.”

“Earn it somewhere else, carpetbagger,” the kid said, and pushed her.

She stumbled into Billy. He caught and steadied her, which was pretty good luck for Billy, really. He lifted his head to tell the skinhead something appropriate
(You wanna push somebody, push me;
, something like that), but the kid was already in his face.

“You got something to say to me, dickhead?” the kid said. The other punks were gathering around. Customers quietly left the line. “You better be opening your mouth to tell me you’re a UA man.”

“Just keep your hands off her.”

“Which is it? Who you with, man, Mickey Dees or BKs? It’s gotta be one or the other, who you with?”

“I’m just buying some burgers,” Billy said. “Come on, man, you don’t need to—”

“US Alliance sucks dick!” the coupon girl said, and everything fell apart from there.

Violet walked away from the school gate until Buy had driven away. Then she turned and walked back. Kate was already a long way up the path, about to enter a building. “Hey! Kate!” Violet shouted. But Kate didn’t turn. “Shit,” Violet said.

She entered the school. The other children looked at her curiously. She smiled back at them.

The guard caught her as she stepped into the building. “Ma’am? I’m going to have to ask you to leave the school grounds.”

“Oh,” Violet said, startled. “Hi. I’m just—” She craned her neck. She could see Kate through the glass of one of the classrooms. “My daughter forgot her lunch money.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t be on these grounds.”

“But she’s right there. I’ll just give her the money and go.” The guard was much taller than her. She smiled and tried to look harmless.

“Well, be quick now,” the guard said, and Violet hurried past him.

In the classroom, Kate was unpacking her bag, alone. She looked up as Violet entered. “Hi, Kate.”

“Hi.”

“I need you to come with me now. It’s very important. Okay?”

“Where?”

“To… the vet hospital. You want to come help some sick animals with me?”

“Um,” Kate said. “No thanks.”

“Sure you do,” Violet said. “You like vets, right? So let’s go.” “I want to stay here.”

“Yeah, well,” she said. “You’re coming.” She put her hand on Kate’s arm.

“Let go of me!”

Violet tugged her. Kate screamed. Violet tried to cover her mouth. Kate bit her fingers.
“Owww!”
Violet yelled. She snatched back her hand and slapped Kate across the face. Kate fell out of the desk and started crawling across the floor. Violet snared her ankles and pulled her back. “Come here!”

She heard the door open: the guard. “What’s going on?”

“She’s—having a seizure!” Violet said. “Help, quick!”

The guard kneeled beside her. Kate was twisting and shrieking like a wild cat. “Why is she bleeding?” the guard said, and Violet pulled out her gun—well, John’s gun, really—and pressed it to his head.

“Okay,” she said. “Now you lie down and don’t move for a while.” She looked at Kate. “Are you ready to be a good girl for me?”

Kate nodded. Her teeth were chattering. That was weird. It was about eighty degrees in here.

“Good. Because if you try to run, I’ll have to hurt you. Okay?”

Kate whimpered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Violet said. She pulled Kate out of the classroom. The guard didn’t make a sound. Violet felt relieved. That was the hard part done. Now she just had to collect her money. She had a good feeling about this.

T
hey caught a cab back to Violet’s apartment and she led Kate into the kitchen. “You hungry? You want something to eat?” The phone was ringing; she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Is that Violet?”

“John!” she said, pleased. “I was just going to call you.”

“Do you have Kate?”

“I do! Want to talk to her?”

“I—no, that’s not necessary.”

“Okay,” Violet said.

“You’ll be pleased to know I’ve kept my end of the deal. I have your money.”

Her heart leapt. “Already? How? What did you do to Holly?”

“I was very persuasive,” John said. Violet’s heart thrilled. She wanted details; she wanted to hear all about it. “Got a pen and paper? I’m going to tell you where to make the swap.”

She wrote down the address. “A Nike Town store?”

“It’s nice and public. Makes sure there won’t be any funny business.”

“Oh, okay. Good idea.”

“Christ!” John said, but she thought he might be talking to someone else. “Be there at six.”

The phone clicked. Violet put down the handset, exalted. She had done it! She felt dazzled by her victory. She thought about Holly T.A. in the limousine, telling her
You’ve got a lot to learn about how the world works
. Well, that just showed how much Holly knew. People were always underestimating Violet. She reached for the phone. She was going to gloat a little.

Holly would be in New York, of course. Violet got the T.A. number from directory assistance. She didn’t know what time it was there, but someone answered the phone and switched her through to someone else. “Holly T.A.’s office, can I help you?”

“It’s Violet ExxonMobil. I want to speak to Holly.”

“Just a second, ma’am.”

Violet waited, trembling. This was so exciting!

“I’m afraid Holly isn’t available. I can take a message, if you like.”

She blinked. “Did you tell her it was me?”

“Ah, I’m afraid Holly doesn’t recall you, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Ms. Holly deals with many people, ma’am. Please don’t be offended—”

“You get that bitch on the phone,” Violet said. “I sat next to her at the London conference. I just got three million dollars out of her, you get her on the phone!”

“Please stay calm, ma’am.”

“I am calm!” she shouted. “For me, this is very fucking calm!”

“I’ll…just a second, please.”

There was a click, then Violet was listening to Muzak. Holly must be pretending, surely. She must be too stung to talk.

The phone clicked again. “Okay,” Holly said. “What’s up?”

“Ha,” Violet said. “It’s me.”

“Yes, yes, Violet of the three-million-dollar invoice. What about it?”

This wasn’t going how she expected. “I got it. I got paid.”

“Did you now?” Holly said. “Well, good for you.”

Violet opened her mouth to say:
I got it from you
. But that wasn’t true, was it? Holly wasn’t playing with her. Holly hadn’t been approached by John Nike at all. Violet put down the phone.

Kate was still sniffling. She kept looking at Violet, then away.

“Something fishy is going on,” Violet said slowly. “Someone’s trying to screw me.”

Maybe John was going to pay her three million out of his own pocket. That was possible. But it was also possible he was planning a nasty surprise for her at the Nike Town. That was very possible.

She checked her pocket. She still had the gun. “Funny business,”
Violet muttered; there would be some funny business, all right. She took hold of Kate’s arm. It was time to go shopping.

Hack hadn’t been to the Chadstone Wal-Mart mall for years, and it seemed to have grown in his absence, sprouting additional shops and food courts. The parking lot was jammed, and the bus took a long time to fight its way through. He looked at his watch, impatient. Claire would be waiting.

The bus wheezed to a halt and Hack disembarked into a mass of people, shouting and pushing and clutching bags of merchandise. Hack hadn’t seen anything like it since the January sales.

He forged his way to the mall’s entrance and found a map, which said Nike Town was on level four. Hack walked to the escalators, past a raffle for a BMW convertible, and rode up. His bag was much heavier than it had been for McDonald’s. He took the opportunity to rest it a second.

Claire was outside the Borders store, wearing Jackie O sunglasses. She smiled when she saw him. Hack touched her hands. “How are you?”

“Last one, Hack.”

“Yes,” he said. “Last one.” They entered the store.

Rows of carefully lit shoes adorned the walls. There was a row of chairs in the center, rock music pumping out of the speakers, and a counter at the back. Hack put his bag down on one of the seats and began unzipping it.

“Can I help you?” a clerk said.

“Yes,” Claire said. She pulled a pistol from her coat and pointed it at him. They had planned fake guns, but it turned out to be easier to get real ones and not load them. “You can run.”

“Everybody out of the store!” Hack shouted. “Nike’s going
down, you don’t want to be here!” He pulled a paint tin from his bag and pried off the lid with a screwdriver. The smell was awful.

“Nike kills children!” Claire said. Hack had written her speech; he was pretty pleased with it. “They pay substandard wages in non-USA countries and sell shoes at inflated prices! One of their factories in China burned down and killed fifty-eight workers! They make huge profits but screw over their own employees in performance evaluations! Their Mercurys campaign killed fourteen children, including one girl right here in this store!”

But the customers just stood there, like at the McDonald’s. People were stupid, Hack realized. You couldn’t make anything too simple for them.

So he heaved. His tins were filled with blood and offal, courtesy of a visit to a butcher’s this morning. The mess burst against the wall. It was almost too authentic. The light bulb above a pair of sneakers blew, spraying sparks.

“People before profits!” Hack shouted. The clerk had split, but customers were still standing around. “What’s the matter with you people?”

“Is this, like, a promotion?” a kid said.

“No!” Hack said. “It’s a protest! Nike is a murderer!” He grabbed another tin from his bag, but it slipped out of his hands and hit the floor. The lid popped off. Offal spattered his pants. “Aw, crap!”

“Are you gonna be giving away shoes?”

“It must be a new product line,” another kid said. His eyes widened. “Is it, like, ‘Nike Murderers’? Is that it?”

“Oh, that would be so cool,” the other kid said.

“No!” Hack said, outraged. “This isn’t a promotion!”

“Throw some more blood, dude,” the kid said.

“Am I wearing a Nike sweatsuit?” Hack demanded. “Do you see any logos on me?”