Shooting Stars (27 page)

T
he entire office
is here at P.J. McWeekend’s for happy hour. I guess I underestimated the power of oversized margarita pitchers and giant leaning towers of onion rings. How could I have known? I haven’t been to one of these since my first year with the company. Hunter was right; everyone needed a stress reliever, as evident from Eddie doing his best Justin Timberlake impression for Horny Housewife. And I’ve provided Hunter with the right remedy. I know he’s thinking I’ve come through again. He might as well give me the job already. My merits are proven. He needs to fork over my prize.

Just when I was getting concerned that Hunter hasn’t arrived yet to witness my success, I spot him over at a table talking with Chloe. I need to find out what they’re talking about. She’s probably sensing she’s losing grip on the promotion and trying some last-ditch efforts to charm him up during my moment. She’s on the outskirts of our two-man circle, and she needs to stay out.

“I hope everyone is having a good time,” I say. As soon as I open my mouth, I see Chloe roll her eyes as Hunter’s attention goes directly to me.

“I am. This is a nice change of pace for me. Usually, I’m home watching Jeopardy right now,” Hunter says, as he takes a sip of his ginger ale.

“I love that show,” Chloe says. “But I don’t get to watch it that much. I have to DVR it and
Wheel of Fortune
, because I stay so late at work.” I was unaware either of those game shows still came on TV.

“I am digging your tie today,” I tell Hunter.

“Really? Thanks. I like your bow tie as well. I’ve been noticing them these past few weeks. Pretty . . . pretty sharp,” he says.

“Trying to add a little professionalism to my role. That’s lacking in some people,” I say as I look at Chloe. “Speaking of which, how’s the job search going?” I ask her.

“What are you talking about?” she says.

Hunter gets nervous and finishes his drink.

“Never mind,” I say. “Can I get you another ginger ale?” I ask Hunter.

“I’m fine thanks,” he says. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Chloe getting upset at herself for not asking him about his beverage first. “I think I’m going to leave soon. This isn’t really my crowd.” He looks at three of his employees from the mailroom pound simultaneous shots of tequila.

“Same here. I’m more of a reserved person,” Chloe says.

“You know, the reserved ones in public are always the wildest in private,” I say as I turn to Hunter to give him a high-five. He looks at my hand and leaves me hanging. “Ain’t I right?”

“I cannot confirm that,” he says.

I lower my high-five hand. There’s a few seconds of silence as I try to find a new topic Hunter and I might have in common. I come up with nothing. I need to start reading my
Newsweek
magazine again. I’ll add that to my to-do list for when I become a manager.

Out of nowhere, a man screams, “Honeysuckle, is that you? What the fuck is you doing out here tonight?”

His voice is loud enough to get the attention of most of the people in the crowded bar. It’s an Asian man dressed in a shiny purple suit, a yellow cape, and a matching purple-and-yellow striped cane. He approaches Hunter, Chloe, and I, while pointing his cane at Chloe.

“Do you know this man?” Hunter asks Chloe.

“No, I don’t,” she says.

“Oh, bitch, now you don’t know Fitzroy? Need money, then you know Fitzroy. Need protection on the street, then you know Fitzroy. Need the name of someone who can do abortions for fifteen dollars, then you know Fitzroy. But in front of your friends, I ain’t shit,” he says.

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about,” she says.

Hunter turns on his macho Texan switch and steps in between Fitzroy and Chloe. “Listen, pal, looks like you have her confused with someone else. I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but that’s my prize stallion right there. If you’re trying to steal Honeysuckle from me, you better be prepared to come out ya pockets and put some cheddar in my palm. Merchandise costs, Walker Texas Ranger,” Fitzroy says as he flicks the brim of Hunter’s hat.

“What?” Hunter says.

Fitzroy looks at the room, and then at Hunter. “Are you working right now? Is this a date? Captain Save-A-Ho is trying to help you out?” he asks Chloe.

“What are you talking about?” she says.

“Is he a john? You better have my cut,” Fitzroy says. “Or I will stick this Now a’ Later grape gator up your lily-white ass so fast.”

“Excuse me, but you said your name is Fitzroy?” I ask him.

“Get the fuck out of my face, turtle dick, unless she’s fucking you too,” he says.

“No, sir. I’ve got nothing to do with this. But why do you keep calling her Honeysuckle?” I say.

“That’s Chloe’s hoing name. It’s like being a superhero. Can’t be hoing under your real name. You need a secret identity. You know? She’s like a dick-sucking superhero,” Fitzroy says.

“Well, he does know your real name,” I say loud enough so everyone hears.

“I’m a business man. And I got shit to do. But all I know is you owe me,” Fitzroy says.

“This is preposterous,” she says.

“I don’t want to air all our dirty condoms out in the street, but I hooked you up with a rich trick to fuck you in the pooper last weekend. By looking at my menu . . .” Fitzroy pulls out a card from inside of his cape and looks at it. “. . . ass fucking is one hundred fifty dollars. The midget who peed on you too, that was seventy-five dollars.” For a loud and boisterous Asian pimp, he’s pretty organized. I gotta give him that.

I turn to Hunter and tell him, “See, I would think golden showers would cost as much as the ass fucking.” He either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t want to respond. I can’t tell which.

Fitzroy overhears my question. “Prices fluctuate with the market. It’s like everything else in the economy. Oil, orange juice,” he says.

Hunter shakes his head at Chloe. Her face is flush with embarrassment. She finally gathers herself and says, “That’s not true.” She turns to everyone in the bar. “He’s telling lies. It’s not true.”

“I told you she was a nasty freak,” I tell Hunter.

“I’m done with this bullshit. If I don’t get a call from you tonight, it’s your ass. I can’t be talking all this business in front of these motherfuckers,” Fitzroy says, as he points his cane at Chloe and backpedals toward the exit.

“Seriously, I don’t know that guy,” she repeats after he’s gone. No one is buying it. But that colorful interruption altered the tone of happy hour.

T
he office has definitely changed
a bit since last night’s happy hour. I’m noticing more smiles during times when co-workers often looked blankly past one another. The quiet is now replaced by positive-sounding conversations. I might’ve even overheard a few “thank yous” and “you’re welcomes” today. All of these things had even me in a great mood. So I wasn’t the least bit worried when Hunter told me to come to his office “ASAP.” It has to be for commending me on the overall setup of the happy hour and how well I planned it. For the first time I wasn’t the least bit petrified of going to the principal’s office.

I knock only once, and I think I come in before he answers. Just a little overzealous. But nothing can mess up this day. Well, that’s what I feel before I walk in the room. Chloe’s already there sitting with Hunter.

“We were waiting for you,” he says.

“I got here as soon as I got the message,” I say. This is already not starting off as I envisioned.

“Please sit down,” he says.

I take my seat right next to Chloe. She’s grinning from ear to ear. What did he tell her before I got here? Is this about another project we’re working on together? I’m not signing up for any more photo shoots. Oh shit, this is really going all downhill for me. I’m even starting to feel myself sweat. I hope I don’t get pit stains.

“Now that you’re both here, I want to discuss the HR Benefits Manager position you were both vying for.”

He’s deciding now? Like this?

“After a long look at both of your records before I got here and your performances over the last few months, I have come to a decision,” he says. “It was a tough one.”

We both inhale and brace ourselves for our fates.

“But then, I chose not to be so hasty with my analysis. As I was gathering more information on every employee, I wanted to make sure I was making the right pick. I ended up having more than enough information with the aptitude tests, psychological tests, and so on. Both of your results were . . . interesting. But at the end, there was only one position available for the both of you. And it could’ve gone either way,” he says.

Is she going to get to it? This suspense is killing me. I’ve been waiting for months, and he wants to keep drawing it out? He’s gonna give it to Chloe. I know it. Now, he’s just making it easy for me. Trying to throw some pillows on the rocks below before he pushes me off a cliff.

“Here it is,” he says. He hands each of us a manila envelope with our name labeled on it. “Hopefully, we can get past this and all move forward to work together and make this company the success we all know it can be.”

Chloe and I open our envelopes simultaneously. I rush to read mine, but I have to read it again to make sure it is correct.

I glance over at Chloe, and her face has turned pale. “I’ve been relieved of my duties,” she says.

My letter says I’ve been offered the HR Benefits Manager position. I leap out of my chair. I haven’t jumped this high since I tried to kill a spider on my ceiling two summers ago.

Chloe reaches into her envelope and pulls out two pamphlets. “A rehab center?” she says.

“You have a lot of problems, and those people can help you,” Hunter says.

I take a look at the brochure. “Hey, a friend of mine’s brother went there. I’ve heard good things.”

“You can put the past behind you and start anew,” Hunter continues. “We’ll hold your position for you until your program is over, and you can come back. But you have to come back clean. No more drugs. No more whoring.”

“I told you that was all bullshit,” she says. I’ve never seen Chloe this animated. “After all I’ve done for this fucking place.”

Hunter puts up his hands, hoping that will calm her down.

“And what do you mean ‘come back clean’?”

“Your drug results came in. You’re on every drug known to man. And some the lab couldn’t recognize. Apparently, you drank a lava lamp,” he says.

I don’t know what to say about Chloe’s unfortunate situation, but I’m happy for myself. And I can’t hide my excitement.

“We will re-evaluate you after nine months at Happy Acres,” he continues.

“It’s a chance at a rebirth,” I say.

“Fuck off,” she says to me.

I was on her side for a minute, but now I’ve jumped off the rehab boat. “Are we going to have to get security?” I ask Hunter.

He whispers to me, “I think so.” I join him as we both retreat behind his desk for cover. We don’t know what Chloe is capable of. She storms out of the room. Hunter runs to the doorway.

“Going back to Fitzroy isn’t the way,” he shouts. “You’re better than that. Let us help you.”

He walks back into the room. I join him as we shake our heads in solidarity. “Can you believe that?” I say. “After all she’s done for us? Please. What has she done for us? Did you get a little licky-licky?” I laugh.

He glares at me. I guess we’re not as buddy-buddy as I thought, not to the point I can make lewd jokes with him. That will come with time.

“As manager, I have a suggestion for you,” I say. “You know how you like to give your speeches and address everyone at work?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sometimes everyone can’t hear you. We also have some very old employees. You ever thought of using a megaphone?” I say.

“Well, no.”

“You know, you’d be like Joe Clark in
Lean on Me
.”

“
Lean on Me
?” he says.

“You know, the movie about the urban principal who takes over the crappy inner-city school and turns it around with his hard-nosed attitude. You’re like that principal turning us around,” I say.

“I like the idea, but I’ve never seen the movie.”

“Starring Morgan Freeman,” I say. It still doesn’t ring a bell.

“I like him. He speaks so well. It’s a Negro American movie?” he says.

Did this dude really say “Negro American”? And why does he keep saying “Negro”?

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna make my exit right about now.”

I leave Hunter’s office thinking about my accomplishment. All of my hard work and dedication to STD has gotten me what I wanted. I’m a manager, dammit. Feels good to say it to myself. Now, I have to tell somebody. No Alexis. I guess I can tell Jake. My parents? Winston? I can’t leave work now to talk to him. Before I change my e-mail signature with my new title, somebody else has to know. I want to tell Eddie, but he’s not at his desk.

“He didn’t come in today,” Dolores says.

He always comes in. Well, except that one day when I thought he had an interview, but he took his girlfriend to get an abortion or some shit. We always have to tell him to use his days. Is his wedding today? Oh well, I’ll text him.

J
ake didn’t come
into work today either. He’s been missing a lot of days lately. He must be putting in way too much time with these plots, or he met a new chick. But now he can take it easy, because I did it. I can’t wait to thank him. We’re meeting at the Foggy Glass Pub, and all of the drinks will be on me.

I spot him sitting at our table in the dark corner. I can’t hold back my smile, and nobody ever smiles in the Foggy Glass Pub. “We did it. You really came through, man,” I say.

“I told you I had your back,” he says as he takes a sip of his Scotch.

“I gotta admit, you were right. I didn’t know it’d be so easy, though.”

He laughs. “It was easy for you. I had to do most of the legwork. Coordinating all that shit. Drug tests. Stealing psychological profiles. Planting weapons on people. Shit was crazy, but quite impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“I didn’t think of it like that. That was a lot of work. Well, drink up.”

“Throwing that big manager money around now,” he says. We both laugh.

“They were really about to evict me from my condo too. I thought I was going to have to start selling my personal things. Then, I looked around and realized I didn’t have many personal things to sell. I’m ordering shots.” I motion the waitress over. “I wish Eddie was here.”

He goes from smiling to a blank look on his face.

“The kid has really grown on me, and I liked showing him the ropes,” I say.

Jake looks off into the distance, but I know something is wrong.

“What?” I say.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“He had to go.”

“What?” I say.

“He was beginning to pose a threat. You saw how close he was getting to Hunter,” he says.

I slam my drink down.

“I didn’t want to tell you this, but I caught him leaving with a laptop,” Jake says.

“What? Like stealing?”

“No. A work laptop. He said Hunter gave it to him.”

I don’t even have a laptop.

“See, it had to be done. Who knows what would’ve happened if he was still there. You got the promotion, didn’t you?” he says. “That’s what you set out to do, and now it’s over. He was moving in on your job. You couldn’t see how he was taking advantage of you.”

He went behind my back and took out one of my friends. It can’t be undone. “What’d you do to . . . never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Listen, I gotta get out of here,” he says. “If you want to talk more about it . . . you know, your little apprentice . . . call me.”

“My big celebration?”

“I know. I’m sorry. We can do something much bigger this weekend, but tonight is bad. Plus, don’t you know this place isn’t fit for a big manager like you?” he says. Good point. He grabs his suit jacket and leaves. He reaches in his pocket for his wallet. Then pulls back. “You got the bill, right, big-time manager?” He smiles as he exits.

I watch him walk out, and realize I’m sitting alone in the Foggy Glass Pub. This is pretty pathetic and not what I envisioned for my big day. I pay the bill and grab my stuff to leave. Winston will get a kick out of my promotion. I’ll pay him a visit.

I walk down the sidewalk trying to remember where I parked my car. I probably shouldn’t have downed that shot of Hennessy so quickly, but that seemed like a managerial-shot-caller thing to do. I double back because I remember I parked on the other corner, and as soon as I turn around, a white van pulls up next to me. The van door opens up and two men dressed in black grab me and haul me into the van.

“Go, go, go,” the white man with a beard shouts at the driver, whose face I cannot see. The van speeds off. Both men look to be in their thirties. The other guy whom I can see is a bald black guy. Looks kinda like a younger Lou Gossett. I’m scared shitless. At first I thought they might be al-Qaeda terrorists, but unless they’re now recruiting middle-aged gym-teacher-looking guys of other races, I’m wrong about that.

“I’ve made it through life this far and haven’t been molested yet,” I think aloud. “Now, I’m an adult and get abducted by a team of kooky freaks.”

“Does this look like the van of a molester?” the bald black guy says.

I look around; it’s pretty nondescript except a few blankets on the floor and some video equipment. “Yes, it does,” I say. “From the outside and inside.”

“I told you we should’ve given it a paint job,” the man with the beard says. “Maybe added a spoiler.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” the bald black guy says.

I look around some more, and see there are more hi-tech surveillance equipment and monitors. And not the typical molester crap, like a dirty mattress or lube. “Well, maybe you’re technologically advanced molesters. I don’t want any part of it. All these wires you got here. Maybe you’re gonna jerk me off and webcast it . . . I don’t know. There are some sick fucks in the world. Let me out of here. Did you drug me? I felt a pinch when you pulled me in. I hope you didn’t drug me.”

“Would you shut him the fuck up,” the driver says.

The man with the beard gets increasingly frustrated. “We’re not molesters,” he says. “We want to talk to you about what you’ve been doing at your job.”

“My promotion? How’d you know—”

“Promotion? No, the identity theft,” the bald black guy says.

“Huh?” I say.

“You’re stealing retirees’ Social Security numbers, bank account information, and other data. Then, you’re selling it,” the bald guy says.

“You got the wrong guy,” I say.

“Sure about that?” the guy with the beard says. He pulls out a digital voice recorder and presses the play button.

On the recorder, I hear Jake’s voice: “Nah, I don’t know anything about identity theft. But I do remember Kevin Taylor mentioning something about that. He always has books on identity theft too. Just lying around his apartment. I thought he was taking a course or something at a community college. Then one day out of the blue, he asked me if I wanted to go in on a scheme with him. But I told him it wasn’t my thing. So he left it alone.”

Then, I hear another man’s voice: “And who is this again?”

“Kevin. Kevin Taylor. Yep, for a good stretch, maybe three months, he was talking about stealing Social Security numbers, because he didn’t have enough money and they weren’t giving him a promotion. He needed money to get married and buy a big condo. He likes living like some rich big shot. Between me and you, all of his research made me a bit uncomfortable. I’m not one to associate with criminal behavior, and I even contemplated ending our friendship when all of this came to the surface. But I’m a good friend and realized he needed help. It’d be wrong of me to bail on him. I tried to get him some help, but he cursed me out and threatened to kill me and my family. He even has all of these shady connections. Started hanging out with these weird Romanian guys. I don’t like to keep with those sorts of individuals. That’s why I’ve kept my distance from him. Look, I’ll tell you where he lives. I can even draw a map to his house. And if you need me to, I can let you guys follow me there. Don’t worry about it. It’s not out of my way. If you go there, you’ll see the place is a mess. He can’t afford that place on his salary. It’s a shame people back themselves into these situations,” Jake says.

The bearded guy turns off the tape recorder.

My mouth is wide-open. I can’t believe Jake would sell me out like that. I don’t know shit about identity theft. That sneaky motherfucker. “He’s lying. You know that, right?”

They say nothing.

“You can’t arrest me off that bullshit,” I say.

“Right now, all you need to know is that we’ll be watching you,” the bald black man says.

“And keeping in touch. So don’t stray too far from home, because we’ll know,” the bearded guy says. “You wouldn’t want to lose everything you have, like your air mattress, by trying to skip town.”

The van door opens and they drop me off right on my block. How’d they get that tape? Why’d Jake lie on me? What’s he really into? What’s gonna happen to me? How do they know where I live? Walking past the alley next to my condo, I hear a whisper.

“Psst . . . psst . . . Kevin . . .” It’s a man’s voice. I turn and find someone in the shadows, but I can’t make out who it is. “Come here.” Did he say my name? Is this the second time today I’m almost about to get molested? I’m not falling for this shit. He speaks a little louder: “It’s me, Floyd, come here. I can’t be seen.”

I walk into the alley and see Floyd. He looks like a mess, wearing a dingy trench coat and a baseball cap that looks like it’s covered in chocolate. At least, I’m hoping it’s chocolate. He’s rather jittery too, and keeps looking around.

“I thought you left the country,” I say.

“I did. Went to Canada, but had to come back. The food sucks there.”

“What?”

“Actually, the woman I was staying with kicked me out when I ran out of money,” he says.

“Who cares. You need to talk fast. There’s too much weird shit going on. And I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“Calm down, K-Dawg. Don’t be a player hater,” he says.

I push my finger into his chest and repeatedly poke him. “Cut the K-Dawg, K-Deezy bullshit. My name is fucking Kevin. Talk fast or I’m calling the cops.” A cop car passes by, and Floyd tenses up. He wasn’t anticipating that reaction from me. “Why do you keep looking around, man? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you on acid?”

“It’s a long story,” he says. I grip him tighter around his collar and reach for my cellphone. “Okay, I got into some trouble. Your friend Jake came to me with this brilliant idea. We were taking Social Security numbers of retirees and stuff like that. Then, selling them to these contacts I had.”

“You were in on that too?” I say.

“You knew?”

“This isn’t about what I know. It’s about what you’re gonna tell me,” I say.

“Jake got greedy,” he continues. “I got suspicious about what he was doing. Then, I found out he tried to squeeze me out and go straight to my contacts. I called him on it. So he set me up. Tipped me off to the company’s ethics hotline. The Feds started looking for me, and I had to get out of town fast.”

Not sure if I should believe him or not. And I think he detects I have my doubts. He keeps going on: “When he got rid of me, though, he didn’t have access to the highly compensated employees. Only managers have that. And those are the only SSNs the contacts wanted.”

“Why should I believe you?” I say.

“Do I look like someone in a position to lie?”

I take a look at Floyd’s tattered clothes and dirt-smudged face. “Good point.”

“Speaking of that, can I come upstairs and get cleaned up?”

“Sorry, can’t help you with that. You’re wanted. I’m not harboring a fugitive,” I say.

“I thought we were friends.”

“Wrong. You are—were—my boss,” I say.

“I need help clearing my name,” he pleads.

“Nope, I can’t help with that either. I gotta clear my own name. The same Feds are now looking at me.” Right as I say that, another cop car passes by. They’re not even looking at us, but a paranoid Floyd gets alarmed.

“Gotta go,” he says. A surprisingly nimble Floyd swiftly scurries to the back of the alley and jumps on a dumpster and scales a gate. He looks and moves like a scared squirrel that’s recognized an adolescent coming toward it with a BB gun.

I
’ve worn
down the hardwood floors of my place for hours, puzzled by tonight’s events. First, I was on a natural euphoric high from winning the promotion. Then, I get hauled in by the Feds, who’ve apparently been watching me for months. I trip over my air mattress. How’d they know about my air mattress, dammit? They’ve probably been in here. And then Floyd pops up out of nowhere. I can’t trust him. I bet the Feds planted him there.

I know whom to call. I pick up my phone. But wait, it’s probably bugged. They might even have cameras in here too. I wonder if they’ve watched me masturbate. I still don’t buy it that those guys aren’t pervy, especially the one with the beard. Whom were they fooling with that van? I gotta get out of here. I wonder if I can find a pay phone. My cellphone has undoubtedly been tampered with as well. I rush out of the place without a plan.