An Honest Living Read online

  “How about you stop trying to quote a movie you’ve never seen?”

  I let out a sigh and rolled my eyes again. “You’re missing the point, sis.”

  “And you’re keeping me from my drink,” Lisa said, glancing at the clock. “Whatever you want to talk about, do so on the way to Lucky’s.”

  I snatched the comics off her desk and stuffed them back in my pocket. “I just think these old guys had style,” I said with a shrug and moved to let her out of the cubicle. I launched into the whole story about what happened last night at the bank, the new talent, my plan to secure myself a rival, and my need for a new look which was why I was pestering her about the costume in the first place. Lisa checked her wallet as we walked and it made me think she wasn’t really listening to what I was saying.

  “I’m just saying, there’s a certain understated class the old guys had that I think is lacking in today’s typical heavy.”

  She gave me a look like she had gone off on a long inner monologue about past events and didn’t realize we were in the middle of a conversation, confirming my suspicions. I flipped the comic open to a specific page and held it out for her to see. I even flicked it to make that popping noise that made her cringe.

  “Tell me you wouldn’t wear something like this,” I insisted. “Aren’t you always going on about how our costumes need to be more practical?”

  “If you’ve got a problem with the uniform, take it up with the big boss,” she replied. I stopped in my tracks, defeated, but Lisa kept stride. “Right now I’ve got less than three hours to forget about the last eight, and I don’t intend to spend it talking shop.”

  I stopped in my tracks, but she kept walking on to Lucky’s. I’m sure she probably thought she’d won an argument with that last bit, but she didn’t even realize what we were talking about. She did give me an idea though. Take it up with the big boss, she says. Well that’s exactly what I was going to do.

  THREE

  I found Drew and the guys off to one side of the bar and made for them while Lisa split off and headed to the bathroom. Suddenly I wasn’t super in the mood to have drinks with a bunch of salesmen, but I also didn’t want to go home and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to talk to anyone in the chain of command about my idea like I wanted. Not on the weekend. So I resigned myself to grab a couple of beers and then take a long walk home to think things over.

  “Abbot and Bro-stello,” Drew cheered when I got close, giving me another high five. There was a nice wide open space for me to take and I sat down.

  “His doesn’t count,” Dave said insistently, looking annoyed at my arrival. “We already ordered the first round. Lane’s doesn’t count.”

  Drew punched him in the arm. “Sack up, Tony Bro-tana. The deal is loser buys first round for everyone. This is Lane’s first round so you’re buying it. If you don’t like it, don’t be such a shitty salesman next week.”

  Dave looked a little defeated, but didn’t argue. A waitress appeared and I ordered a beer. “On him?” she asked, motioning to Dave. Everyone nodded except the loser.

  One thing that I really liked about Lucky’s was that they knew how to serve someone properly. When a guy like me ordered a beer, it didn’t come in some measly little 16 oz. pint. It’d take twenty of those to get me anywhere near wasted. No, they served the big guys in special 64 oz. mugs that Dave or Drew could have bathed in. They knew how to treat their clientele properly, though, I’ve heard if you order a mix drink it can be pretty watered down.

  “What about that one over there?” Dave asked, pointing to a young lady on the far side of the bar. We had slipped into our routine. Have a beer or two and then start looking for ladies to pick up. It was actually fun to watch those two give it a go and fail miserably. Maybe if they had more Sales Reptitude.

  I polished off my first beer and ordered another just as these guys were priming themselves to move in for the destined-to-fail kill. With any luck, I could finish off this second one at my leisure and slip out without them noticing. How you could not notice a guy like me leaving anywhere is beyond me, but a pretty girl can blind a man well enough to where he couldn’t see a jumbo jet coming down on his head.

  When I was about halfway through my second beer and feeling at ease to the sound of Foreigner on the jukebox it happened. Something that I felt deep down in my bones would change my life. Maybe not forever. Maybe only for a few months. But it would change nonetheless.

  The door to the bar opened and someone entered. Now, this wouldn’t turn a lot of heads normally because it was a bar. People came and went constantly. The fact that it was a young woman wouldn’t have turned too many more heads either because it was a bar and young women came and went constantly. What was turning so many heads was that it was a young woman in a wheelchair.

  Don’t get me wrong, people in this city have been around long enough to have seen a person in a wheelchair, but people also have a tendency to stare at something different even when their brains know it’s rude. Especially people who’ve had a few drinks already.

  The disability wasn’t what left me gawking like some slack jawed local though. It was the girl. She was stunning. Her shoulder length hair was that interesting shade of red that could have been natural, but could have been dyed, and either way you just didn’t care. Stormy blue eyes looked out from behind a pair of semi-rimless framed glasses looking for a place to sit. Add in a splash of freckles and a pair of full lips painted Nocturno purple, and I was instantly smitten.

  “Yo, check out the new girl,” Drew said from my side. I didn’t even realize he and Dave had returned.

  “She’s like a sexy librarian,” Dave commented. “But without legs.”

  “Bro-tunheim, realm of the ice giants,” groaned Drew. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “She’s got legs, Bro-ba Fett. She just can’t use them.”

  The two of them argued over offensive semantics, but I stopped paying attention. I was up and on my feet before I even realized what I was doing. This was not like me at all. Women didn’t like humongous guys like me talking to them in bars. It was intimidating. I learned that a long time ago so I accepted the fact that I had to meet women other ways. But here I was, against my better judgement, approaching a girl who would be even further dwarfed by my size.

  I found her at the end of the bar trying to get the bartender’s attention.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” I blurted out. Smooth Lane. Opt for the most overused cliché of all time. Real smooth.

  She gave up trying and sat back in her chair looking frustrated.

  “I’d settle for a simple wave down,” she said, finally looking at me. To her credit, she didn’t get that look on her face that said she was afraid I was going to eat her.

  “I’m kind of a pro,” I said with a smile and waved down the bartender. “Comes with the territory.”

  “Beer,” I told the bartender when he came over, “And…”

  “Scotch,” she added, “Neat.”

  Damn, girl wasn’t playing around.

  The bartender gave a single nod and a sidelong glance at her before heading off to fill the order.

  “I’m Lane,” I said, trying to fill the silence.

  “Nice to meet you, Lane,” she replied and left it at that, making things substantially more awkward. Luckily the bartender returned shortly with our drinks and I plopped down a twenty that I had nabbed from the bank the night before. I couldn’t help but notice that she looked at the money suspiciously. Like she knew it was obtained through illegal means. That was impossible, of course, but it still felt that way.

  “So…” I began, but she stopped paying attention to me. She snatched the glass of scotch off the bar, downed it in one gulp and put it back before wheeling around and heading for the door.

  “Gotta go,” she said back to me. “Thanks for the drink.”

  I stood at the bar and watched her go, dumbfounded.

  What the hell just h
appened here?

  FOUR

  When you decide to get blind drunk because a pretty girl used you for a free drink and then left you in her dust, you tend to make some pretty poor decisions. Like challenging a storefront window mannequin to a fight, basically losing that fight, and then stumbling home to draft a pretty sloppy email to the head of the Coalition of Evil about all your grand plans for your future as a bad guy.

  I don’t get drunk too often because it’s just so expensive to get a guy my size drunk, but, if I’m being honest, the first couple things in that list weren’t completely unusual when I did wander into inebriated territory. It was that last thing, the drunken email, that was the real problem. Not sure if you’ve ever gone a little overboard and sent an email or text that you wish you hadn’t, but I can assure you it’s a terrible feeling.

  That horrible feeling is compounded drastically by the recipient of said email showing up at your door the next morning, waking you from what was nowhere near enough sleep and bringing the memory of what you did rushing back. And being in your boxers really didn’t help things either.

  Seeing Mary Sue Winfield through the peephole of my apartment door sent my stomach into my feet and my heart into my throat. I couldn’t even appreciate how funny she looked all distorted in the fisheye lens.

  “One second,” I called out through the door.

  I scrambled around my apartment grabbing random bits of clothes and throwing them on. The end result was me wearing a pair of Hawaiian swim trunks, a Maxima City Stegosaurus football jersey under a tuxedo jacket, one flip flop, and one high top sneaker. Not exactly my best look, but a hell of a lot better than talking to my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss’s boss in my underwear.

  “Good morning, Miss Winfield,” I said, finally opening the door for her. “Come in, please.”

  Mary Sue looked me head to toe with amusement and entered my apartment.

  “I’m not sure if 1 p.m. could be considered morning, Mr. Raskin,” she said, turning to me with her hands on her hips.

  I had to hand it to Mary Sue, she had a presence about her that said she owned the room even if she was in a room that she didn’t actually own which was rare. Although now that I think about it, it’s very possible she did own this building in some capacity. It was hard to keep track of just what her and Wayne Grey actually owned in this city. What was odd about her was the fact that while she was tall, gorgeous, and basically as perfect as a human being could get physically, there was a slight awkwardness to her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It had its own charm to it, but it was always lingering just out of sight.

  I closed the door to my apartment and looked at the clock. Definitely afternoon. Maybe I did get enough sleep.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked awkwardly, trying to fill the silence.

  “What do you have?”

  I shrugged. “Soda, OJ, purple stuff, two kinds of Sunny D.”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, perching herself on the edge of an armchair.

  I copied her, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

  “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, knowing full damn well why she was sitting in my apartment.

  She regarded me cooly. “Just wanted to meet the guy with the brass to send the leader of the city’s preeminent criminal organization an email about his hopes and dreams.”

  I blushed. “Uh...yeah, about that. I was-”

  Mary Sue raised a hand to cut me off. “Drunk. That much was obvious. I have to admit, Lane, I’d heard your name before. I know everyone in my organization to some degree, but I wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup of one until last night. I spent my morning familiarizing myself with both of your files.” She expertly laced the word both with enough emphasis for me to know that she basically knew everything about me there was to know. That was a slightly uncomfortable thought. “The new ‘Fig you mentioned had not escaped our notice. I’ve never seen Roller Blaze so flummoxed.”

  “It was some-” I began, but she cut me off again.

  “I’ll take your request for a nemesis under advisement,” she continued. When she saw the look on my face change she hurriedly added, “under one condition. I have an assignment for you. If you can complete it successfully, we’ll discuss advancement opportunities for you.”

  “Wow, Take…” I began, but quickly realized who I was talking to. “I mean, Miss Winfield. I thought you bigwigs just sent emails about this kind of stuff. I’m honored you’d take a personal interest in me.” She nodded and gave me a look that said I had completely misread the situation, but I didn’t argue. “What’s the job?”

  Mary Sue produced a manila folder from nowhere and handed it to me.

  “Wayne Grey is opening up a new chain of upscale grocers called Grey Market,” she explained.

  “Clever,” I quipped, opening the file. Inside were blueprints, business plans, an organizational chart, and a flier for warehouse employees.

  She gave me an I know, right look. “Everything about the business seems above board, but I’m not so sure.”

  I looked at her, confused. “You think Wayne Grey is up to no good? The guy’s won Maxima City’s Most Perfect Billionaire like ten times.”

  A nasty look crossed Mary Sue’s face but disappeared just as quickly. “More than likely, there’s nothing going on that shouldn’t be, but I want an inside man to learn the workings of the company and find weak points in the infrastructure. If we can’t bring him down for illegal practices, then I want to get a foothold in the company.”

  I couldn’t help myself, the words just came out before I realized it was happening.

  “What do you want with a grocery store? You own half the city.”

  Surprisingly, she didn’t take offense. “Do you have any idea how much it would chap Wayne Grey’s perfectly sculpted ass to know his rival had a controlling stake in one of his businesses?”

  Well this was a different kind of corporate espionage. It wasn’t targeted at destroying competition or bolstering stock prices. It was just to stick it to someone. Kinda had to respect that level of pettiness.

  “Well I’m in,” I told her, closing the file. “You can count on me.”

  Mary Sue stood and I did the same.

  “I knew I could,” she said encouragingly. “Go down to the labor agency Monday morning. I’ve already greased the wheels of bureaucracy to make sure you get hired. Not that a guy like you would have trouble getting a manual labor position, but you never know. Good luck, Mr. Raskin.”

  “I don’t need it,” I said, trying to sound confident. Then I suddenly remember how I was dressed.

  I showed Mary Sue out and closed the door behind her. I was elated. Finally things were moving in the right direction for me. A good outfit was imperative now. Not that this little number wasn’t working for me. It was time for a shopping spree.

  FIVE

  Monday rolled around and I was feeling pretty good. Ok, sure, it was balls hot outside and I was in my new henchman disguise which was a lot better suited for the Pacific Northwest in autumn, but the sweat uncontrollably galloping down my back wasn’t going to stop me from walkin’ on sunshine. When you’re headed to fulfil your dreams instead of going in for yet another day of the same old, same old, it’s hard to feel discouraged.

  I could have gone straight to the hiring agency, but I wanted to make a quick stop first. If routine told me anything, Lisa should be getting coffee right about now and I could swing by and show off my new assignment before getting things underway. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she realized I was getting farther along than she was in our quest to become full fledged members of the Coalition of Evil.

  As expected, I found Lisa standing off to one side waiting for her coffee. She spied me standing in the doorway and I made my way over to her.

  “So? Whaddaya think?” I asked her, holding out my arms and doing a little spin. And I only managed to knock over one table, so pretty g
raceful too.

  I have to say, I was pretty proud of the outfit. It reeked of classic henchmen. Heavy wool pea coat, wool cap, and some pretty sweet waterproof boots. Took a little while to find these things in the middle of summer, but there ain’t nothin’ you can’t find at a thrift store if you look hard enough. Lisa, on the other hand didn’t appear to be too impressed.

  “I think there was definitely a mixup at the hospital when we were born,” she muttered. “Lane, seriously, what the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m going incognito,” I said and produced a pair of dope shades I found at the thrift store.

  Lisa rolled her eyes. “Okay, bro, let’s just ignore the fact that incognito is a word that will never be used to describe you and focus on the rest of the absurdity.” She took a long sip of her coffee. At least, I think it was her coffee. The name sharpied on the side said Geesa. “First of all, it’s Monday morning. You’ve got a job to get to. I’m not sure how your clients are going to feel when Vinny the Wonder Thug shows up to sell them business services.”

  I looked at her thoughtfully. “You know, I gotta wonder what Vinny ever did to become the butt of everyone’s thug jokes.”

  “Pointing out uncomfortable stereotypes in an attempt to derail me won’t work, brother dear, so fess up. Halloween is months away.”

  “If you must know,” I said haughtily. “I’m not going to the office today. I’m on an assignment.”

  “On a Monday morning?” Lisa asked, trying to sound both skeptical and disinterested, but I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out if she’d missed any messages about jobs taking place this morning.

  “Don’t worry, you haven’t been excluded,” I assured her, adding a little smirk because I knew it would get her goat.”You might be on the A-team, but this is a job that takes a certain set of skills.”

  She gave me a look. “Someone needs a human punching bag?”

  “Don’t get uppity,” I countered. “I’m just doing a little reconnaissance. Seems Wayne Grey is looking to open a chain of posh grocers.” I pulled the flier from my pocket and handed it to her.