Jimmy the Hammer and the Quality of Mercy

“Our numbers are in the toilet! What do I need to do? Set you on fire?”

Jimmy glowered at his assistants. Shamed, they cringed like schoolboys before an irate coach. They avoided his piercing look. The cramped conference room didn’t offer any shelter.

Jimmy needed a break. The daily grind was getting to him. To see their numbers circling the drain depressed him. Jimmy hated working in collections, with these lunkheads, yet. He couldn’t wait to get to Del Mar.

He continued, “We’re in a rut, guys. What can we do to get things moving? Leon!”

Leon flinched. “I don’t know boss. How about burning their cars?”

Jimmy did a facepalm. “Arson is old hat, people…”

Leon kept going. “But you said…”

Jimmy held his hand up. Leon stopped. Jimmy struck a match and relit his cigar. He flicked the match at Leon who frantically brushed it away.

“We need focus. Personal appeal. How do we get under their skin and get them begging to pay us?”

Mickey mumbled something and caught Jimmy’s attention.

“Speak up, Mickey. So everyone can hear.”

Mickey kept looking down. “I just said, ‘Breaking their thumbs always worked for me.’”

Jimmy cocked his head. “Mickey… Have you heard anything I said? The old strategies don’t work anymore. We want to do better. Get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good grief! Look at the time! I gotta go. Look, guys, I’m gonna be gone a week. Off with the wife for some much needed R&R. Work with me. Come up with some ideas. Our methods are mired in the past. This is the 21st century. Breaking legs doesn’t make it anymore.”

He shook his head. They didn’t get it.

“Look, guys. This is a great country. But you know what made it great?”

They stared at him, like a bunch of baby chicks with their mouths open.

“Repeat after me, guys… Inn-o-va-tion… We need this… Something fresh… Gotta go. See you in a week.”

He turned to go, shaking his head in frustration. “What am I thinking? Asking muscle heads to innovate…”

Jimmy stepped into his waiting limo. He told the driver, “Swing by to pick up Bunny. Then, the Del Mar Hilton.”

He could jet down and save a few hours in transit. Jimmy was a gambler, but not fond of flying. Besides, he liked the drive through the desert, straight down the I-15. It gave him time to think. Especially since Bunny discovered Facebook.

. . .

They checked into the penthouse. There were flowers everywhere.

The lobby felt like a high school reunion. People Jimmy hadn’t seen in years shook his hand, hugged him and patted his back. Something was off. All too friendly. Had they heard his numbers were down?

Jimmy asked Bunny to count the daggers in his back. She laughed.

But the horses were running. Opening weekend at Del Mar. Sweet.

Jimmy took Bunny to his favorite restaurant. The sunset over the Pacific was spectacular. Jimmy didn’t see it though. He was on his phone. Business doesn’t wait. The golden sunlight on Bunny’s face said it all. She was beautiful.

. . .

Jimmy got up early and headed to the track. It would be a full day. He just walked in. Ticket booths wouldn’t open for hours. Only the grooms were there, up since four. Bookies and handicappers wouldn’t show for hours.

Bunny had a big day planned shopping and sunning by the pool.

It was cool enough to see the horse’s breath as the grooms walked them. Farriers were finishing up. Tack was stowed. Colors were coming out. The tractor dragged the track behind the water truck. They were testing the starting gate.

Jimmy strolled into the immaculate stables. Chico called to him. They’d known each other forever.

“Hey Cheeck! Last time we met, you were barely a bug boy.”

Chico laughed.

“Billy still treating you well? I’m glad he took you off the leaky roof circuit.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Jimmy.”

“I hope so. You are the best. Got any mail for me?”

“We don’t run dogs, Mr. Jimmy.”

“No stall walkers? No rogues?”

“No. They’re all tight.”

Jimmy showed Chico his form. “Who’s the topper in one?”

“Gate Crasher.”

“How’s the track, by the way? Heavy?”

“It’s got a good bottom. The track is good.”

“With all the weather last winter?”

“I’ve been watching. The clockers are happy.”

Jimmy shook Chico’s hand and palmed him a fifty. Chico shoved it into his pocket and grinned broadly.

“Thank you, Mr. Jimmy.”

“You bet, Chico!” They both laughed.

Jimmy wandered a bit, greeted some old timers and got a feel for the place. Del Mar is where he got his start. He was home.

Back at the clubhouse, the bar hadn’t opened. The betting windows were still deserted. A few hard core players had claimed their seats. Cigar smoke sweetened the air. No little old ladies yet.

Then Jimmy spotted him, Bennie Biltmore, known everywhere as a cheap tout.

“Jimmy the Hammer! I thought I’d see you opening day.”

“Hey, Bennie. What’re you selling, more rabbits?”

“Not me, Jimmy. Unless you’re looking for a hot tip, or two.”

“Thanks Ben. I don’t want to get burned. I think I’m covered.”

“Jimmy! I wouldn’t burn you. You think I’m crazy?”

“Not crazy. No.” Bennie moved on.

Jimmy took a seat, lit a cigar and did some paper work. He locked down his favorites and climbed the steps into the clubhouse to place his bets. A few locks and a few long shots, Gate Crasher, Top O’ the Ritz, Shimmy Chamois, Little Shoulder, Run it By Me and Tornado in the sixth.

Where do they get these names? Jimmy thought it should be an interesting day. No maidens today, maybe later in the week.

He entered the bar. More longtime associates greeted him. Everyone glanced up at the wide screen TV. They were lining up for the first race.

The bell rang and they were off.

The races were short. But Jimmy’s day ran long. None of his bets came in the money. Not even close.

He got out the stakes on the last race, doubling down to make up his losses, to no avail. Now he was out of the money by thousands, on margin. Not a problem for him but embarrassing. And everyone gabs.

Jimmy couldn’t believe it. He talked to people in the know, groomed his contacts for years. This never happened to him.

Something was up.

. . .

Jimmy returned to the hotel, made some calls and showered. Bunny was still at the pool. Jimmy didn’t mind. He didn’t feel like company.

Someone knocked at the door.

Jimmy answered it and a bellhop handed him an envelope. Jimmy gave him a ten and shut the door.

The envelope invited Jimmy to room 2300 to meet with Mr. Thompson. Now.

Jimmy got it. So Thompson fixed this. Time to put it behind him. He put on his tie and jacket and grabbed the next elevator to Thompson’s suite.

They’d known each other since the beginning, but never were friends. Always on opposite sides of a bet.

Years ago, Jimmy thought Thompson tried to kill him. Now he’s getting an invite to Thompson’s suite. Had anything changed beside their incomes?

Someone opened door 2300 to reveal the man standing by the bar near the balcony. A couple of Thompson’s men stood by. A woman draped herself over the sofa.

Thompson held up a decanter as an offering.

“Rye, please.” Jimmy kept his back to the wall. He didn’t want the view to distract him.

Thompson poured a couple fingers. He handed it to Jimmy with a broad smile.

“Too bad about your opening day.”

“News travels…”

“Fast. I know. Crazy isn’t it?”

Jimmy sipped his drink and kept his eye on the open balcony door. He always knew where everyone in the room stood.

Thompson got serious. “I have a favor to ask.”

“After today, I’d expect…”

“I know. You’d be asking me the favor. Right?”

Jimmy waited.

Thompson continued, “I think we can help each other out.”

“I don’t remember asking for help.”

Thompson laughed. “Good old Jimmy. You never give an inch.”

“I like to think of myself as a stretch runner.” They both laughed. It sounded like an empty can bouncing on concrete.

“Tell you what, Jimmy. I don’t want you embarrassed by today’s results.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’ll be straight. Your organization holds paper on some friends of mine.”

Now Jimmy got it.

“You want me to ease off?”

“Nice of you to offer. And in return, consider today’s loss a wash. Forget it.”

This surprised Jimmy. He’d never heard of such a thing. Thompson smiled at Jimmy’s reaction.

“I need names.”

“That’s taken care of. I just need your word.”

“That’s it? No catch?”

“I’m not a jack-in-the-box, Jimmy.”

“That’s most generous. Then, I think we can do business, Mr. Thompson.”

“I knew we would.” Thompson offered his hand to shake. Jimmy switched his drink and shook with the man. He downed his drink and left.

Bunny was showering when he got back to their room. He felt good. In the elevator it came to him. Inn-o-va-tion.

He took Bunny to a new French restaurant he’d heard about. Things were looking up.

. . .

The following week, Jimmy called his team in to talk. He leaned on his desk.

“Whatcha got?” he asked them.

“What about thumb screws?” Leon offered.

“What? We’re going from the Stone Age to the Spanish Inquisition? You had a week, and that’s what you give me?”

They stood in embarrassed silence.

“I tell you what we’re going to do,” said Jimmy. “We’re going to set up a payment plan.”

“A what?”

“Spread the word. Starting next week, these dead beats come up with half their debt? They’re in the clear.”

“But…”

“I know. It’s radical. Listen up. This is what we tell them. If they don’t pay, the following week, they owe the full nut.”

It began to sink in. “And the week after that?”

“Bring out the bats.”

Leon and Mickey cheered.

Jimmy calmed them down. “But guys, the point is to tell them the steps. We want the money…”

“Sooner than later…”

“Now they have incentives to pay up early. Kill ’em with kindness. The bats come out only in a pinch.”

“Got it, Jimmy!”

Jimmy high fived them. “Now bring out the receipt books. I want those open accounts closed. Money on the table.”

Leon and Mickey shut the door on the way out.

Jimmy lit his cigar and blew a beautiful blue smoke ring.

---

Thanks to Reedsy.com for providing the prompts which inspired the story. Do follow: https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/.

Beside the Sea

“Look at that!”

The surf shone brilliantly against the distant blue.

But Margaret tugged at Charles’ sleeve. “No, look, Charlie.”

Charles shifted his gaze and saw the sign, ‘Beside the Sea Cafe’.

“That’s it. That’s where we’re going.”

The door jingled as they entered the small, clean dining room, lit by the reflection of shimmering sand flowing through the picture window. Dusty nets draped from the ceiling. Radio music from back in the kitchen cut through the white noise of exhaust fans above the grill.

A faded Coppertone ad hung askew near the order counter. It resisted Margaret’s attempt to adjust it. Another wall featured a mural of a mermaid, painted in cartoonish homage to the Pre-Raphaelites.

At the corner table, beneath the mermaid painting, sat a disheveled young man with a fashionably unkempt beard. Oblivious to all else, he concentrated on his smartphone. A basket holding the remains of his deep fried lunch rested on the corner of his Formica table.

Across the room, a well-dressed young woman, Cassie, gazed pensively out the window, toward the beach, perhaps reckoning if her ship had come in or had already sailed. A large disposable cup, sat on a wet napkin.

Margaret and Charles selected a table with a view. Charles retrieved menus and they sat. Their drive into unknown territory exhausted them.

“What now?” he asked. Margaret took his hand and looked into Charles’ eyes, bursting with hope.

“I don’t know. I guess we wait to see what happens.”

Not being fond of the beach, they were out of their element. Margaret felt compelled to make this journey, prompted by a text reading ‘Beside the Sea,’ which she received on her phone the previous day.

Margaret was convinced Marie, their sixteen-year old daughter, sent it. She ran away months ago. Or so they thought. She left no note. They didn’t even know if she was alive. This mysterious message, if it were sent by Marie, was the first they’d heard from her.

They decided on coffees and a basket of ‘fish ‘n chips’. The order taker wore a Hawaiian shirt and a backwards hat with ‘Tony’ embroidered on the back.

Tony lingered for a moment to look at Cassie, sitting by the window. She continued looking to the horizon.

Charles squeezed Margaret’s hand and smiled reassuringly. But his eyes were worried. “I won’t scold her,” he said. “You do the talking.”

Charles retrieved their order.

Margaret sighed. “Let’s enjoy our lunch and our outing. Who knows what will happen?”

They ate in silence but for occasional grunts of surprise and pleasure.

~

 

Ed, the bearded man, got up from his table, grabbed his backpack and exited. He got a text, ‘Beside the Sea,’ on his phone, yesterday. The tide had ebbed. Spurred to action by this pre-arranged signal, he walked across the cool sand toward the rocks jutting into the water.

It was off season and the beach was nearly deserted. At the water’s edge, Ed removed his shoes and pants to reveal swimming trunks underneath. Ed put on a pair of beach shoes from his backpack and waded into the water.

When he got to the rocks, Ed turned toward the café and sighted a line down his extended arm. He took two steps to his left, turned and continued into a cleft of the moss covered rock.

Ed groped with his foot and reached into the water. It was shallow, but random waves splashed over his head causing him to sputter and gasp.

He found something. With some effort, he brought his discovery to the surface and set it on the rocks. Big enough to fill his backpack, the package was wrapped in heavy black plastic and secured with twine. Ed ran his hands over its contours and then hefted it from one hand to the other. He carried it to the beach.

Ed inserted his package into the backpack and secured the straps. He swung the pack onto his back and strolled back toward the boardwalk.

At the pavement in front of the café, Ed turned toward the parking lot about a block away. Out of nowhere, three men in street clothes began following Ed. Two others, in suits, approached from the parking lot.

When the two men entered his line of sight, Ed turned and walked into the arms of the men close behind him.

“Whoa! What are you doing?”

One flashed his badge at Ed. “What’s in the pack, Ed?”

“Nothing. Can’t a guy collect some shells on the beach?”

“Pretty shells, eh? Let’s have a look.”

One of the men relieved Ed of his backpack. He pulled the package out and cut it open to reveal dozens of banded stacks of hundred dollar bills.

One of the cops whistled. “Ooh! Pretty!”

“I just found that. I didn’t know what was in there.”

“Let’s go downtown where we can chat about it, eh?”

They cuffed Ed and guided him to a waiting police cruiser.

~

 

Inside the Beside the Sea Café, Cassie had never seen an arrest play out except on TV.

She caught Margaret’s eye. “They got him. They just arrested the guy who was sitting over there.”

“Really? What did he do?”

“I don’t know. But they were waiting for him. It was five to one. He must have done something.”

Margaret and Charles exchanged glances. “Nice neighborhood.”

Cassie said, “It used to be.”

A policeman entered the café and looked around. Tony stepped up to the order window.

“Listen up! I’m officer Pauli. We apprehended a man outside. He was in here a few minutes ago. Any of you know him?”

Everyone shook their heads.

Tony said, “I’ve seen him before. But he never spoke to me but to order food.”

Charles saw someone on the beach. “It’s Marie.” He stood and turned to the door. Officer Pauli stepped between him and the exit.

“Where are you going?”

Charles was startled by the officer’s tone. “We’re from out of town. We don’t know anyone here. We came for our daughter.”

“You need to sit while I ask some questions.”

Margaret said, “Do you need us both? Can one of us meet her?”

Charles said, “You go, Maggie. I’ll be collateral.”

Pauli addressed Tony. “Do you know them?”

“Never seen them before an hour ago.”

“May I please leave? I don’t want to lose her.”

The cop nodded to Margaret, who dashed out.

Charles said, “We got a text from her. Haven’t seen her in months.”

The cop looked around. “What was our suspect doing in here?”

Tony said, “Eating. He sits and eats. And plays with his phone.”

“Is this his?” The cop pointed at Ed’s food basket. The tissue paper fluttered weakly under the fan.

Cassie said, “Yes.”

~

On the beach, Margaret shielded her eyes from the sun, trying to keep an eye on Marie. It was windy and her hat threatened to blow away.

She slipped her heels off and walked barefoot. Margaret wasn’t used to such exertion. For all her effort, it seemed she wasn’t gaining any ground.

Marie seemed so far away. She walked with no purpose, randomly stopping to watch the waves or pick something up from the shore.

Finally, Margaret felt the distance shortening. She didn’t recognize Marie’s clothes. A stained, man-sized, loose-knit sweater hung loosely on her thin frame.

Out of breath, Margaret came up behind her. “Marie?”

The girl whirled around to see her mother standing before her. Marie almost bolted. In a moment, she hesitated and surrendered. She almost went limp. It was all too much.

Margaret opened her arms and Marie melted into them. For a long time they stood in tight embrace. They cried. Margaret smoothed her hair and kissed her. She offered Marie a handkerchief and slung her arm over Marie’s shoulder.

“What happened?”

“How did you find me?”

“We got your text. We came here with no idea. Just hope.”

“I didn’t text you. I don’t have a phone. Everything is gone.”

“Can we talk? Daddy’s at the café.”

“Oh, Mom. I don’t know.”

“Come on. Whatever happened, we can get through it. Where are you staying?”

Marie buried her face in Margaret’s shoulder. A few words came through the sobs.

“I’m so sorry… ashamed… lost it… lost everything…”

“You can’t live like this. You need to eat. Come on.”

Arms around each other’s waists, they walked slowly back toward the café.

~

The cop in the cafe collected the remains of Ed’s meal into an evidence bag. Before leaving, he got everyone’s phone numbers for follow up.

Charles saw Margaret and Marie approach. He stepped out. When they got close, he opened his arms to them.

~

Cassie watched their reunion through the café window. She gathered her things to leave.

Tony said, “What are the odds?”

Cassie turned, “What? Their finding their daughter?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Pretty amazing… She hung around. But I didn’t know her story. I’d leave her a plate, out back. You know… sometimes. Just left overs. She couldn’t pay.”

“Nice of you… I’ll see you around.”

“If you don’t mind my asking… Were you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah. I got a text. I thought it might be from… someone I knew.”

“A text?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Beside the Sea?”

“How did you know?”

“My accountant suggested it as a promotion. Off season, you know… send out the name of the café randomly to people from the area…”

“You sent it?”

“Well…”

“Spam?”

“I guess.”

“That was a wasted afternoon.”

“Uh, wait. Could you?”

“What?”

“Your name is Cassie, right? I heard you tell the cop…”

“Yeah…?”

“I knew a Cassie in grade school. Did you go to San Luis Academy, by any chance?”

“Uhm… I did…”

“I thought you looked familiar. I could have sworn it was you, but…”

Cassie waited.

“When you told the cop, I thought maybe…”

“Looks like you guessed right.” Cassie looked at her watch. “You aren’t stalking me, are you?”

“No! No! I would never… But… Well, what I wondered… Since I wasted your time here today, could I make it up to you? Would you let me buy you dinner?”

Cassie gave him a long look. “What… here?”

“No! I’m about to close up. I would clean up and everything. I mean… I would buy you a real dinner. What do you say?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I know a nice place, downtown. But if you have a favorite spot, we could go there.”

“Hmm… There’s a decent dinner place on Third and Main… Do you know it?”

“Is that Vino Veritas?”

“That’s it.”

“That was where I was thinking. I’ll pick you up.”

“Let’s meet there.” Cassie checked her i-phone. “Six-thirty?”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll make reservations?”

“Right now.”

She looked at his backwards hat. “Tony, right?”

“Yeah. Tony Kalamata, like the olive.”

Cassie gave Tony another long look. “That sounds familiar. San Luis Academy?”

“1994. I left when I lost my parents. This place was my uncle’s. He took me in and then taught me… everything.” Tony opened his arms dramatically, showing off his place.

“We called you ‘Pits’.”

“Wow! You did! Good memory, Cassie. I haven’t heard that…”

“Okay, then. See you there at six-thirty?”

“Sharp.”

Cassie opened the door to leave. “I’ll see you then… Tony.”

They both laughed and she left. Tony pulled the shades down. The family reunion had moved on. He flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’.

Tony checked his watch. “I’d better get a move on…”

He picked up his phone and searched the number. “Hello, Vino Veritas…?”

 

---

Thanks to Reedsy.com for providing the prompts which inspired the story. Do follow: https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/.

 

Beauty and the Model

Aaron was beautiful. Women would exclaim it and then cover their mouths in embarrassment. Even some guys would tell him. They all would soon discover, this was not the best way to start a conversation with Aaron.

Mesmerized by his beautiful face, women would forget to listen to him. They could not keep their side of a conversation for the distraction.

He hated it. Aaron had heard the words: ‘penetrating blue eyes,’ ‘riveting,’ ‘stunning,’ ‘chiseled features’ too often. Introduce yourself with one of these clichés and Aaron would turn away. He didn’t care. Aaron would show you his ‘sculptured’ back. End of story.

He saw himself as a regular guy, cursed, in his opinion, with extraordinary good looks. People raved about an accident of birth, a random blending of his parent’s DNA. Those perfect cheek bones had nothing to do with who he was.

When fashion changed, as it always did, he would still be the same regular guy with last year’s good looks. He worked as a model. He maintained himself. But Aaron had no ego about his appearance. He knew his shelf life would expire.

Aaron would laugh seeing co-workers checking themselves out when walking by mirrors, or windows. Aaron only saw his image when someone shoved an open magazine at him, asking him to sign some ad he appeared in. He would graciously comply, but he couldn’t care less. Responsibility for his appearance lay between the make-up girl and God.

When his work day finished, he used to grab a beer and hang out with the crew. Or try to catch a game. Eventually, Aaron stopped going. He wearied of residing in that shimmery bubble defined by admiring, staring eyes. Aaron joked that Mona Lisa smiled because more people were looking at him.

He couldn’t get to know anyone. Aaron once asked someone if they’d ever had a conversation with a peacock. It isn’t because the peacock has nothing to say, but that no one knows what to say to a peacock. No one understood the question.

He got to know the support staff, the make-up and hair people. They didn’t treat him like a freak. He laughed when one said, “When you look at diamonds all day, every day, they’re just rocks. Pretty and polished rocks, but just rocks.”

He asked one of the make-up girls out once, but she declined. She didn’t date clients. Smart.

Everyone said Aaron had a charmed life. He had it made. Aaron thought, ‘If a museum piece, only admired for its perfection, had it made, then yes, I have it made.’ He wanted more.

Aaron gave Madeline a call. He saw her ad for matchmaking services online. What did he have to lose?

She answered, “Matchmaker…”

“Hi. I’m looking for a relationship. A real one.”

“Uh huh. What’s the problem?”

“I can’t seem to meet anyone and get to know them. I don’t trust online services. I work. I’m a decent looking guy. I’m straight. How does this work?”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I just told you.”

“Right. But why can’t you connect? Do you have horns? Scars? Pick your nose? What?”

“Oh… You’ll think it sounds stupid. I’m just a guy.”

“But?”

“I’m told I’m too handsome. Maybe women think I out shine them?”

“This is a common problem.”

“It is?”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, ‘I’m too good looking. I’m just looking for love.’”

“Right. Well, maybe…”

“Tell you what. Come in. Let me look at you and see what I can do.”

Madeline was a pro, and not easily dazzled. But if this guy was for real, she thought she might have the perfect match for him.

Her name was Carol. She also modeled for a living. ‘Gorgeous’ only hinted at her beauty. But she loved the attention it brought her. Carol also used her beauty as armor between herself and intrusion. She loved her privacy. Carol discovered early on, this buffer allowed her to navigate countless social situations.  Carol never worried about undesired attention from strangers. She never needed to await entry to a club. No rope ever stopped her. Airports were a breeze.

Madeline hoped Aaron would be the perfect match for Carol. If he were as handsome as promised, the beauty factor would cancel out and they could just be together. Voila! The perfect couple.

Madeline grew up believing she was homely. Without prompting, all her girlfriends told her so. Many boys agreed. A practical romantic who didn’t waste time pining for her Prince Never-there, Madeline developed her character and a business sense. She had an acute understanding of human nature, of what drives people together and what separates them.

A romantic who gave up on finding true love for herself, Madeline became a matchmaker. And a good one. Madeline had a knack for seeing an individual’s potential for a life partnership. Adept at engineering connections leading to happy marriages, Madeline thrived on seeing people joined in happiness.

When Aaron entered her office, Madeline caught her breath. He was a Greek god. Carol’s perfect match, Madeline thought, ‘Gorgeous, meet Gorgeous.’

Madeline introduced herself and shook his hand. She thought ‘his smile is dazzling.’ Not wanting to stare, Madeline shuffled papers while outlining her services and expectations, should he sign on with her.

Madeline led Aaron to a quiet, comfortable sitting room where she let prospective couples get acquainted. Carol awaited him there. She stood to greet Aaron and shook his hand.

“Carol, I want you to meet the gentleman I told you about, Mr. Adon…” She coughed. “I mean, Aaron. How is it, both being in the biz, you don’t know each other?”

The two clients laughed. “It’s a small town but we work in different aspects.”

“I mainly do cosmetics, and Aaron…”

“Men’s clothing…cologne…”

Carol and Aaron laughed at a few inside references, only they would understand. Madeline offered them refreshments and left them to chat.

Aaron took a chance and smiled at Carol. “Your hair is stunning.”

Carol looked at him with bright eyes. “And your smile is dazzling.” They both laughed at how silly all that fan-doration is.

They sat and dove into a conversation, blissfully not about work or fame. They liked the same food but knew different restaurants. Each enjoyed cooking at home, away from stares.

Apparently, their music collections were identical with expected departures into girl groups and metal. Neither liked rap. Both loved the Great American song book. Carol preferred vocals, Aaron instrumentals.

It was comfortable.

“Alright, trick question.”

“I’m ready.”

“Old movies?”

“Black and white? You’re kidding! The lighting in those days was heavenly.”

“Who is your favorite star, though?”

“No contest. Garbo.”

“Interesting.”

“She was funny. Not affected. She handled all the… you know, perfectly. And, she was beautiful.”

“Yeah, but not as beautiful as you…”

“Yada, yada, yada… Thank you. Who do you like?”

“I have to go with Clark Gable.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Gable was so natural. So completely un-self-conscious. Here’s this goofy looking guy. But sexy by being so relaxed. He drove women nuts, just being himself.”

The conversation went on for a long time, with no lapses. They felt so seen. So relaxed. They didn’t have to put on a face for the other. Each felt they could drop those ever present masks.

Madeline knocked and entered with a big smile.

“I have a surprise for you two. If you haven’t already made plans, I have a get together. An annual thing with some former clients. Many have married and been together for years. Would you honor me with your presence?”

Aaron looked at Carol, expectantly.

She shrugged and smiled. “Why not?”

“Sounds perfect. We’ll just pick up where we left off here.”

“Wonderful. Here are the directions. You both look great. And great together. Oh, and we’ll be having dinner. So I hope you didn’t fill up on cookies.”

Carol rolled her eyes at Aaron. “As if cookies were my downfall…” They all laughed as they made their way out.

Aaron and Carol went in his car. Madeline drove alone.

“Do you think this is going to be okay?”

Aaron scoffed. “These are Madeline’s people. I would expect them to have some class. She’s a pro.”

“She got us together. I’d say she’s a genius.”

“It’ll be fun. At the very least, we can talk with each other.”

“That’ll work.”

They drove in silence for a while.

“I have to say, Carol. It has been a long time since I could talk to someone. Just talk, and feel heard.”

Carol smiled at Aaron and touched his hand. “Me too. It might take some getting used to.”

“Let’s try.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

They got to the dinner and everyone was friendly. It felt weird that no one acted weird. That became Aaron and Carol’s ‘in joke’ for the evening – weirdly normal.

Most couples had small tables, for two. Madeline sat at a larger table nearby, with some early clients who were now happily married.

Music played under the conversational buzz. Occasionally, someone would address the group. They praised Madeline for her great work. Everyone acted toward Aaron and Carol as if they were two new friends. That’s all.

Weird.

Aaron and Carol touched glasses for a private toast. They drank. Aaron made a joke just as Carol was swallowing and she started to choke. The room went silent. She kept waving Aaron away, but the coughing got worse. She couldn’t breathe.

Carol began to panic. She stood. The chair fell back. Her eyes rolled back. She started to weave as if she were about to collapse.

Madeline approached from behind and swiftly applied the Heimlich maneuver. Carol gasped. They collapsed to the floor.

Everyone gathered around. Someone yelled to call 9-1-1.

Carol waved her hand. “No! Don’t! I’m fine.” She coughed some more. Madeline, still kneeling, offered Carol her hand to help her up.

“Don’t touch me, you bitch. Get away from me. Who gave you permission to approach me?”

Madeline withdrew her hand. She stood and faced Carol as she came upright.

Carol looked at her dress. “Look what you did! You ruined my dress.” She shrieked, “Leave me alone!”

Carol kept coughing. Everyone backed away from her. Aaron put his arm around Carol, to comfort her. Carol shrugged him away.

“I said, leave me alone!”

Madeline tried to sooth her. “I was afraid for you. I wanted to help.”

“Don’t touch me. Ever.” Carol walked unsteadily to the dining room door. She turned and looked at Aaron. “Are you coming?” Carol left.

Aaron apologized to everyone. He took Madeline’s hand and bowed. He kissed her hand. “I’m so sorry, for this. Your friends don’t deserve this. I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be alright. Go.” Madeline smiled at Aaron and nodded for him to leave.

A few days later, the phone rang at Madeline’s office.

“Matchmaker…”

“Hi, Madeline, this is Aaron…”

“Aaron! I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. What can I do? I suppose I’m fired.”

“Madeline, I will not accept your apology. But there is one thing you can do.”

“You don’t have to accept it. But I am so embarrassed. What do you need?”

“Let me take you out to dinner?”

“Take me? Aaron, I don’t socialize with clients. That would be a conflict of interest. I can’t. I hope you’ll understand. I might have another young wo…”

“Madeline, you are fired. I don’t want your matchmaking services anymore.”

“Oh. I worried about that.”

“I mean it. I am no longer your client.”

“I understand. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Aaron. You seem like a very…”

“Madeline. You aren’t listening.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no longer your client. So now you can have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“Madeline, I have been searching for a caring, classy, wonderful woman. What happened the other night was unfortunate. And I owe you an apology for the scene we put on in front of your nice friends.”

“But…”

“But, what you showed me… The way you acted was so deeply beautiful. You were caring, tender and kind and classy. You didn’t deserve what Carol did. You are the woman I’ve always searched for. Please, let me take you out.”

Madeline didn’t know what to say.

“Are you there, Madeline?”

“I’m here.”

“Let’s get to know each other. You are the first person who ever treated me like a human being. Let’s have dinner. Can we do that?”

Madeline answered hoarsely. “Okay. When?”

“Friday night?”

“Okay.” Madeline hung up the phone. Then she started to cry.

 

Bedtime Story

Dan read to his daughter while sitting on her bed. Phoebe kept on fidgeting so he closed the book, marking his place with a finger.

“What’s wrong, kiddo? Don’t you like ‘Hansel and Gretel’?”

“It’s kind of boring, Daddy.”

“What do you mean? I always read from ‘The Little People’s Book of Fairy Tales’.”

“Is that the same one, when Little Red Riding Hood makes friends with the wolf?”

“Wolves are an endangered species, honey.”

“But so was Little Red…”

Dan cleared his throat. “What’s wrong with Hansel and Gretel?”

“Pro’bly the ending. But so far, isn’t the step-mother supposed to be evil?”

“All step-mothers aren’t evil, kiddo.”

“I know. But it’s the story, Dad. I don’t think Jane is evil.”

“You don’t?”

“She’s annoying sometimes. But that’s just her trying to be a real mom. I liked that she didn’t want them to give Tommy that Ritalin stuff.”

“Me too.”

Phoebe’s older brother, Tommy, rolled over in the bed across the room. He snored lightly.

“Tommy can be annoying too. But I don’t want him shooting up a school like those kids did.”

“No one wants that. How do you know about those other kids?”

“You’d be surprised what you can find on the computer, Daddy.”

“I’m sure.”

“But, like in that Harry Potter book, when something doesn’t have a brain and it orders you around, you have to wonder.”

“Right. You shouldn’t spend too much time on the computer. What about Hansel and Gretel?”

“So far, Gretel seems to be the only one doing anything. Why is Hansel even there?”

“What do you mean?”

“He just stands there until Gretel tells him what to do. Or the witch.”

“You mean…”

“They’re supposed to be in danger. Why doesn’t he help? Aren’t they a team? They should do what they can. He’s such a tool.”

Dan chuckled and then got serious. “Word is, Pheebs, girls are the future.”

“I don’t think Tommy knows that. So, there won’t be any boys? Who will we have to make fun of?”

Dan looked at the alarm clock on Phoebe’s bedside table. “Uhm… Back to…”

“Right… And the gingerbread house. Why isn’t it covered with ants?”

“Later in the story, they explain the witch used a low calorie sweetener to bake…”

“Oh… No offense, but Jane would lose it if I left one cookie on the counter.”

“Some things work in stories that aren’t so realistic.”

“I get it. So when the birds eat the bread crumbs? You know, that they left on the path?”

“Yes?”

“Are the bread crumbs gluten free?”

“They might be. I hope so.”

“I wouldn’t want Hansel and Gretel to poison the birds.”

“Of course not.”

“So, does this story end with the evil witch being, not really evil? Does she turn out to be a kindly, dear old, long lost aunt or something?”

“Let’s read and find out.” Dan glanced at the clock.

“But wait. If it turns out that way, it’ll be so stupid.”

“Why? Don’t you want them to find their dear, long lost aunt?”

“Of course I do. But that’s not the point.”

Dan sighed. “What is the point, Pheebs?”

“I know this is a fairy tale, Daddy. But are fairy tales supposed to be completely disconnected from reality?” Phoebe felt good about getting through that sentence in one breath.

“Well… Phoebe, where is this coming from?”

“I mean, not everyone is a dear, lost aunt.”

“Yeah?…”

“Not all wolves can be pets.”

“Okay.”

“Sometimes, we meet people who truly are evil.”

The clock ticked. “Sometimes…”

“Maybe there’s magic, and elves. But it has to feel true.”

“I guess…”

Daddy, if everyone in the story is nice, then where is the story? It’s not very exciting.”

“Maybe the book wants to show there are ways to solve problems that don’t involve pushing people into ovens.”

“Is that how it ends? Cool.”

“I don’t think in this version…”

“Oh. But Dad, if everyone is nice…”

“Wouldn’t that be…”

“But wait, if everyone is nice, then why have Hansel and Gretel at all?”

“Couldn’t they learn to be nice, too?”

“They’re already nice. We’re rooting for them. Aren’t stories supposed to show us how to beat the bad guys? They need to do something.”

“Yes, but… I don’t want to frighten you, Phoebe.”

“Thanks, Dad. But scaring me, in a story… Isn’t that better than something really scary?”

“I don’t want you frightened of anything, ever.”

“But that’s why kids like roller coasters and scary movies. To face our fears.”

“Okay… You are pretty fearless.”

“Kids need to learn to defend themselves. And not be victims. Some things are scary. They just are.”

“But, you’re six. You’re too little…”

“I won’t always be six.”

Dan swallowed. “…Yeah.”

“And there won’t always be grown-ups around to protect me.”

“I know…”

“Believing everyone is my secret, lost aunt, pro’bly isn’t the best way to face the world.”

“Well… Probably not.”

“I know you want to protect me, Dad.  But it’s all around us, if you look.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw a dead butterfly today, on the sidewalk. Nobody cared. It was so sad. I put it on a leaf so no one would step on it.”

Dan turned away from Phoebe and wiped his eye.

“A bug flew into my eye.”

Phoebe touched his arm. “It’s okay, Dad.”

He turned back to his daughter and smiled shyly. “Thanks, Pheebs.”

They looked at each other for a moment, without talking. Dan returned the book to the shelf.

“You know what, Pheebs?”

“What?”

“I think our little talk turned out better than any story I could read you tonight.”

“Okay.”

“You’re a smart kid. You know that? You could write stories.”

“Maybe I will.” Phoebe smiled at her father, showing the gaps where her baby teeth had been.

Dan tucked the covers around Phoebe and kissed her on the forehead. He checked on Tommy, who slept through it all.

“Good night, kiddo. I love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy. Good night.”

Dan turned out the light at the door.

Phoebe called out. “Daddy?”

“What’s up?”

“Tell Jane, I love her too.”

“Will do. Go to sleep now. It’s late.”

“Okay.” Phoebe turned on her side and closed her eyes as the door shut behind Dan.

A little later, Dan lay next to Jane, in their darkened room. He couldn’t sleep. His imagination ran riot. Fiendish faces leered from the cracks in the ceiling. Eyes wide open, Dan watched them morph in the gloom as he stared into the darkness.

His Daddy wasn’t there to chase them away.

Time passed. A prayer drifted through Dan’s mind, forgotten for decades. He mulled the phrasing.

In a little while, he slept.