Working For Jane (standard:drama, 8115 words)
Author: Bobby Zaman	Added: Nov 05 2002	Views/Reads: 3272/2249	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Any job for a meal.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


"Come in tomorrow between two and three if you want to know more." 

"Where?" 

A silence followed while Jane juggled suspicion and the practicality of
the question. 

"Go to the Jewel on Ashland and Wellington," she said in a voice even
lower. 

"There’ll be a black Durango with a heavyset blond woman.  She’ll bring
you here." 

Click.  Dial tone. 

It was a bad scene in a really bad espionage flick.  Zed looked at the
ad again.  It was as sparse as the lack of emotions in Jane’s voice, if 
indeed that was Jane he spoke to.  He wanted to know more.  How much it 
would pay, schedule, and so forth.  Of course, the job was of a whole 
different ilk than anything he’d come across in the past, even the 
drudgery of the bank, which was a form of execution of the soul slowly 
and painfully, and this was a prelude to the many more surprises in 
store. Zed had a job interview. 

He woke up late and spent his last ten dollars on a cab to Jewel.  The
parking lot was inflated with cars.  He took a moment to see how 
perfect in paradox this was as a venue for undercover hush hush deals.  
The good folks visiting the place were families with kids, or young 
urban yuppies in overpriced cars and cell phone pinned like permanent 
fixtures to their ears. 

Zed began roaming the aisles for the Durango.  Hair still slick from the
swipe of water Zed gave it, clothes he slid into in a mad, cursing 
rush, and the long overcoat dangling from his lanky frame, Zed looked 
more like a prowler than a shopper looking for his car. 

It was all a prank, thought Zed after two rounds of the lot.  Some joke
just for the sake of entertainment and Jane sat back and laughed at all 
the tongue-tied callers that dialed the number with hopes of riding 
around with leggy strippers for a living.  He gave up and started for 
the bus stop when he spotted the roof of the black Durango carefully 
tucked in a lonely corner, away from the families and the yuppies.  It 
was difficult to tell who was behind the wheel. 

Zed walked to the car.  With each step the figure behind the wheel
became clearer.  He walked all the way up to the driver’s window.  It 
slid down and revealed the face of the heavyset blond woman per Jane’s 
description. 

"Zed Parker?" the woman asked. 

Taken aback at how she knew his name Zed dumbly shook his head in
agreement. 

"Come around," she suggested, the trace of a smile playing on her lips.
She was a lot more inviting than Jane. 

"Sorry I’m late," she went on lighting a cigarette and holding out the
pack for Zed.  "I’m Mandy." 

She was dashingly courteous, a treatment Zed was not expecting in the
least. 

The unfiltered Camel blew a tunnel of smoke down Zed’s throat as Mandy,
in no apparent hurry, rolled out of the lot and headed south on 
Ashland. 

"I imagine you had a chat with Jane?" said Mandy. 

"Last night when I called." 

"If you thought she was dry over the phone, take my word, she’s about as
exciting as a nail in person." 

"Are we going to meet her?" 

"Meet Jane? No.  No one meets Jane.  Except me and the other girl that
works for her." 

"Three people run the whole show?" 

"More than enough." 

"What about the girls?" Zed looked at Mandy like a puzzled kid.  Mandy
laughed. 

She took the Durango around the back of a two-story house on Dayton
Avenue and pulled in to a private garage.  Before they got out Zed 
said: 

"How did you know my name?" 

Mandy laughed again and replied: "Jane can find any name any time she
wants." 

There was nothing unusual about the house.  It meshed with the scores of
others that surrounded it.  Mandy unclipped a bouquet of keys the size 
of a baseball from a belt loop and they went in through the door from 
the garage to the house.  Inside it was set up like a family of four 
lived in it.  The works.  Couches and easy chairs, big screen TV, 
stereo, microwave, squeaky-clean kitchen, and even a laundry-drier unit 
installed inside a large hallway closet. 

"This is it?" asked Zed. 

"This is it." 

Zed’s eyes immediately began a search for the enigmatic Jane.  He wanted
to see her, fit a shape to the lifeless voice that was allegedly so 
powerful as to hunt down the identity of anyone that crossed her path, 
in person or no. She could also have a caller ID.  Zed’s number wasn’t 
listed but, really, how difficult is it to find a phone number these 
days? The thought made Zed a bit queasy and uncomfortable, but he 
stayed mum. 

"You’ll never see Jane," Mandy said, lighting a cigarette and catching
Zed out of the corner of her eye, alert and curious. 

Zed blushed and stopped loitering. 

"Have a seat," Mandy offered and went to the fridge.  "Beer?" 

"Sure." 

"There has to be strict anonymity all the time for this job." Mandy put
down a bottle of MGD for Zed and held one herself.  "Anonymity for us.  
It’s part of our job to know everything there is to know about anyone 
that calls here or makes any inquiries, except of course the cops, 
which they usually don’t because Jane keeps a good check on them and 
makes sure they’re happy.  She also knows every alderman there is to 
know in six districts.  Jane knows what she’s doing, that’s why it’s 
good to work for her." 

"You’ll not be Zed Naman on the job.  You’ll go by Archie.  I know,
you’re going to say that sounds flaky and faggy, but it is what it is.  
You won’t use your own car for driving the girls around, ever.  If the 
girls are ever seen in your car, you’re in a lot of trouble, not to 
mention fired.  Jane will make sure you get your dose of shit before 
leaving you alone.  Point is, it’s easy and it’s tempting to cross this 
job over with your day to day life.  It’s expected of you not to do 
that.  Keep work at work, and live your life outside of it.  You do 
that and this job’s a piece of cake." 

It felt like she was done.  She snuffed out the cigarette and poured the
last bit of beer down her throat. 

"One more thing," she went on, "Don’t ever, ever get involved with any
of the girls." 

She dumped the beer bottles in a trashcan, lit another cigarette and
leaned on both hands against a countertop. 

"Think you can handle those basics?" she looked at Zed like a grade
school teacher. 

Zed – Archie – nodded. 

"Good," said Mandy smiling.  She extracted a single key from her bouquet
and tossed it at him. 

"Use the Durango for work.  It’ll be here anytime you get a call, full
tank of gas, you don’t need to worry about a thing.  You can leave your 
car here when you’re working." 

"I don’t have a car." 

"Even better.  Can you start tonight?" 

"Sure." 

"Good.  Be here at ten." 

Zed left Mandy’s place nervous and hungry.  He set for Kevin’s place
where he knew he could get a sandwich. 

Kevin was groggy with a treacherous hangover when he opened the door. 
Zed walked in and slumped down on the couch. 

"Give me a minute," Kevin said and disappeared into the bathroom. 
Moments later came the sound of retching followed by the shower 
splattering on the bathtub. 

Zed went to the fridge and brought out some bread, cheese, and mustard. 
He was employed, there’d be income – darn, he forgot to ask about that 
again – anyway, there’d be cash flow, whatever the amount, enough 
hopefully for a sandwich. 

He stacked the cheese and bread and glued them together with gobs of
mustard, poured the last bit of milk left in a carton into a mug and 
walked back to the living room.  Kevin was still in the shower and 
there was a new addition to the couch in the living room. 

She had on one of Kevin’s t-shirt, she was drowning in it, and sat with
her legs tucked under her flipping through channels.  Zed’s entrance 
startled her. 

"Sorry, I didn’t know Kevin had company," said Zed. 

She was beautiful.  Melting sky-blue eyes, hair as black as tar, and
skin like whipped cream. 

"Please, don’t move on my account," Zed said. 

She brought out her legs and set down on the floor and straightened up
to a more formal sitting position.  Everything about her was perfect.  
There was no doubt she spent the night with Kevin and neither of them 
had plans to do anything in the morning.  Yet, her composure was the 
opposite of the state in which Kevin had trudged into the bathroom and 
hurled the previous night out of his system. 

Zed awkwardly took a bite of the sandwich and washed it down with a sip
of milk.  He wasn’t so hungry anymore. 

"I’m Zed," he said. 

"Angela," came her voice like a quick blurt out of a flute. 

The shower ceased.  It was replaced by a coughing fit from Kevin.  This
made Angela laugh. 

"He’s so hungover," she said and resumed her search for the channel that
could hold her attention. 

"Would you like a sandwich?" Zed asked. 

"No," Angela replied finishing with a smile instead of "thanks."  Zed
slowly worked his way through the sandwich and the milk. 

"Zed," said Angela.  "That’s a wonderful name." 

Kevin came out of the bathroom clad in a towel, water dripping from his
hair.  He looked better, like a thick layer of dirt had been hosed off 
him. 

"I see you two’ve met," he said.  "Keep talking, I’ll be back, then we
can go for food."  He slipped into the bedroom and shut the door. 

Angela didn’t seem up for idle chitchat, which worked fine with Zed. 
She was beautiful though.  She could sit there day and night and not 
say a thing and still make Zed’s blood run amuck inside him.  She was 
Kevin’s girl – of the week. 

Kevin came out pressed and dressed, ready to face the world. 

"Get dressed, babe, I’m starving.  Zed, you’ve eaten already but you’re
eating again, with us." 

Kevin’s one shining, or not so shining fault, was his inability to ask. 
He told, got the look of resentment from the recipient, which always 
came at him when he’d moved on to the next moment. 

Angela peeled off the couch and went in to the bedroom. 

"I got a job," said Zed. 

"That’s great.  What?" 

"Well, I’d rather we’re alone when I talk about it." 

"Don’t worry about Angela.  She’s as flighty as they come.  Forgets her
own name if she doesn’t hear it for a while.  So what’s the secret with 
this new job? You gonna be a spy or something?" 

"Nothing like that.  I just rather tell you when we’re alone." 

"Suit yourself." 

Kevin turned off the TV.  "Girl can’t go a second without the tube.  No
wonder there’s all that empty space in her head.  What d’ya feel like 
eating? Thai? Chinese?" 

"I can’t.  I’m starting tonight." 

"Tonight?" Kevin echoed. 

"Yeah, I start at ten." "It’s an after hours gig.  Now I’m intrigued." 

"Please don’t make a big deal of it, okay? Don’t talk to anyone about
this. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can get a drink and I’ll tell you 
about it. It’s really not a big deal, it’s just...different." 

Angela came out, dressed in a pair of fitting jeans that clung to her
form like they were painted on, a turtle neck sweater, and running 
shoes.  Zed passed her on his way out the door. 

"Nice meeting you," he said with the confidence of a fifth grader. 

"You too.  Maybe we’ll see each other again."  Smile. 

Ten o’ clock came at the speed of eternity.  Zed remained glued to his
couch and staring at the muted TV, his mind shooting off thoughts like 
sprays out of fireworks.  At nine-thirty he got on a Red Line train and 
began his journey to the first day on the job. 

The Durango was waiting in the same spot like an obedient hound.  Zed
walked around to the front of the house and rang the doorbell.  A 
buzzer brayed and he walked in. 

Mandy was relaxed and dozing off in the easy chair with CNN playing on
TV. 

"Major points, Archie," she said when Zed walked in.  It took a moment
for the new name to re-sink in.  "You showed up and you’re on time." 

She went to the fridge and brought out two beers and handed one to Zed. 

"No drinking on the job," she said lighting a cigarette.  "Have one to
get relaxed, that’s it." 

"I’ll be driving most of the time, right?" 

"And making sure the girls are safe." 

"I go in with them during a call." 

"You wait outside the door.  Like if the party’s in the living room, you
wait in the next room.  The first inkling that something’s wrong, you 
burst in like death itself." 

Zed caught a reflection of himself on a window.  That death thing would
be a hard one to pull off. 

"Fair enough," he shrugged.  "There was another matter I wanted to
discuss." 

Mandy laughed.  "Archie, baby, lighten will you.  Young guy like you so
tense all the time.  We don’t discuss matters, we talk about stuff, 
okay?" 

"Sure.  Um – the money..." 

"You get a hundred from the girl and a hundred from me each time you
work." 

Two hundred smack for a night’s work.  Not bad. 

"How often will I work?" 

Mandy came up to him and put a hand on his arm and said, "As often as
you can take it." 

Zed came out the back door clutching a piece of paper with the girl’s
address and the key to the Durango.  What was there to take, he 
wondered. All it is is driving a hot girl to the home of some drunken, 
horny jerk, make sure she comes out alive, collect his pay and head 
home to a nice cold beer, and finally, a regular meal. 

Heaven.  That was the name of the girl.  The address was Uptown by
Lawrence and Broadway, stones throw from the Green Mill, once a 
favorite for Zed and his guys before they all got married and started 
creating offspring. 

He gunned the Durango and backed out of the space.  It had been a while
since he was behind the wheel of a car that started with such little 
effort and didn’t need a push or a jump.  His ’87 Chrysler Lebaron was 
rotting in his mother’s garage in the burbs. 

Heaven’s building was down the street from the Mill, along Lawrence with
the entrance on Magnolia.  Zed rang the buzzer for a basement 
apartment. 

"I’ll be right there," a voice sang out of the intercom. 

Zed got back in the truck and waited for her while listening to the
radio. He could sure use a cigarette.  He checked the glove box.  There 
was a pack of Camels with one left in it.  Zed lit it and waited for 
Heaven. 

The passenger door opened and in walked an instant heart attack. 

Angela. 

Kevin’s Angela. 

Their eyes met and she stopped in her tracks. 

A puff of smoke drifted up to Zed’s eyes and forced him to squeeze them
shut.  Angela took that as an extreme show of his embarrassment. 

"What...are you doing here?" she said, half in half out of the truck. 

"I’m the driver.  Are you...Heaven?" 

"This is unbelievable." 

"Will you please get in, that draft is cold." 

Angela seated herself and shook her head. 

"We’re seeing each other sooner than we thought," she said. 

Zed started driving. 

"Not that it’s any of my business, but does Kevin know about this?" he
asked. 

Angela let out a chuckle dense with irony. 

"Kevin wouldn’t care if he knew.  He’s your friend, you should know what
women are to him." 

"I don’t know what you mean by that."  Zed lied. 

"You do.  I think you know exactly what I mean." 

"Look Ang – " 

"No real names.  It’s Heaven." 

"Right.  By the way, I’m Archie.  This is a job.  That’s all it is for
me. What happens here stays here." 

"You’ve had a chat with Mandy, I see." 

"What she said makes a lot of sense, the more I think about it.  We’ll
just chalk this up to coincidence.  What I do is my business and yours 
is yours." 

"How long have you known Kevin?" 

"Since the fourth grade.  He’s an adult just like us.  Let’s just keep
this where it belongs.  Right here.  Alright?" 

"Alright." 

They drove along Lake Shore Drive in silence for the next twenty
minutes. 

"Let’s have coffee after we’re done," Angela offered. 

"Not on the job," Zed replied and took the exit for North Avenue. 

Angela made him stop in front of a brand new building with four floors,
into which were built glittering new, mammoth priced condominiums.  
Heaven didn’t get out immediately. 

"Mandy told you the procedure?" she asked. Zed nodded and got out of the
car. They rode in silence up the elevator and came to the door where 
Angela’s – Heaven’s – services were requested. 

"You alright?" Zed asked vulnerably. 

"First night on the job?" 

"Yes." 

"It’s not that serious." 

She knocked. 

A small Danny Devito looking character opened the door.  His eyes lit up
like jewels at the sight of Angela.  Zed stepped in behind her.  The 
light in the little man’s eyes died like a blackout. 

Once inside Angela instructed Zed to take his place in an adjoining
room, which he discovered was a study decked with bookshelves, 
corner-hugging desks, on which were strewn two desktops and two lap-top 
computers.  That room alone must have cost the guy a hefty ten thousand 
dollars.  Zed pulled out a book on basic Pilates and yoga and began 
leafing through it.  His mind was zigzagging back and forth between 
trying to make sense of the intricate positions described in the book 
for the ultimate stress release, and what the stubby little man was 
doing with Angela not twenty feet away. 

There were no sounds, which Zed figured was a good thing.  The place was
amply heated.  He took off his coat and settled into the loveseat and 
leafed through the book. 

"You have an hour of my time," said Angela to her client. 

"Who’s the guy?" 

"He’s procedure.  Don’t worry about him.  He won’t bother us.  You have
an hour of my time.  It’s five hundred." 

The man stuffed a chubby hand into his pant pocket and pulled out a wad
of bills.  He counted five hundred dollar bills and held them out for 
Angela. 

"You can set them on the table, there’s no rush.  As long as I get them
before we move on," she said, smiling, moving close the man.  His 
breath quickened with each step she took.  He looked up at her with 
incredulous eyes stuck in his face like trapped insects. 

She sat him down and began rubbing his shoulders.  He relaxed a little
and slumped his head.  Harmless little man, Angela thought. 

"What’s your name," he asked without bringing up his head. 

"Heaven.  What’s yours?" 

"That’s not your real name." 

"It is my real name," Angela repeated with the stealth of a determined
teacher. 

"Really, what’s your name?" 

"Heaven." 

"Right.  Well guess what mine is?" 

"What?" 

"Hell." 

Angela tittered softly and the man turned around. 

"It’s Hector," he said looking her in the eye like a lover wanting his
place back in her life.  "Now, will you tell me your name?" 

"Heaven." 

Hector sulked, put down his head and turned around. 

Zed had dozed off when Angela opened the study door and came in.  The
Pilates yoga book was open and spread eagled on his chest. 

"You ready?" she said. 

Zed got to his feet and put on his coat.  Hector was fast asleep and
snoring like a bull when they walked by him and left. 

Angela handed Zed the hundred in the Durango. 

"Any more calls tonight?" he asked. 

"Don’t know.  The clock’s ticking till six, so I have a while to go." 

"So do I, I guess." 

"I usually wait at home for Mandy to call." 

"Fine, I’ll drive you back." 

Back outside Angela’s place Zed stopped the truck and waited for her to
get out. 

"You can wait inside if you like," Angela offered. 

"Better I stay in here." 

"In the car? You’ll get cold." 

"I got a full tank and the heat’s pretty good.  I’ll be fine.  I’ll be
across the street on Lawrence whenever you’re ready." 

Angela slipped out of the car, went up the little pathway to the
building and disappeared inside.  Zed parked the truck on Lawrence, 
turned up the heat, smiled contentedly at the almost full tank of gas, 
set the radio to a classical music station and reclined the seat.  
Before long he was snug as a bug, in dreamland. 

Three firm taps on the widow zapped him out of a dream in which he was a
centaur and three of his closest childhood friends were riding on his 
back and making fun of him. 

Out of the haze of sleep and the thin trace of a headache cutting across
his forehead like the slice of a razor, Zed looked into the eyes of a 
brisk, young cop that was enjoying his job a little too much. 

"You alright," the cop said. 

"I’m fine," Zed replied. 

"You engine’s running." 

"I had the heat on." 

"Is this your truck?" 

"Yes." 

The cop peered into Zed’s face in search of confirmation. 

"You waiting for someone?" said the cop. 

"My girlfriend," Zed said.  "I drive her to work every morning." 

The cop glanced at the watch on his wrist. 

"Early.  Must be hard working girl," he said. 

"She is." 

"Alright.  Have a good day." 

Angela opened the door clad in a slip, with circles under her eyes from
waiting for a call from Mandy. 

"Sorry.  Didn’t mean to bother you, but I was wondering if I’m needed
any longer," Zed stood in the hallway and said in a voice thick with 
exhaustion that made it sound like he was buzzing. 

"Well, it’s five thirty and Mandy hasn’t called yet – doesn’t look like
there’ll much business in the next half hour." 

"I’m supposed to stay till six.  I’ll just wait in the truck and take it
back." 

"You don’t have to wait in the truck.  Come in.  I was going to make
coffee." 

"Not on the job." 

"You’re punching out early.  I won’t say a thing." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." 

"I can’t afford to lose this job," Zed said sipping the coffee with
wafts of steam climbing up his nostril.  "Pathetic as that sounds, it’s 
about all I’m qualified to do." 

"You can imagine how pathetic I feel," Angela chimed from the couch
where she lay faced away from him looking out a window at a forlorn 
morning sky blinking through a crisscross of branches. 

"I didn’t mean it like that.  I’m sorry.  I’ve worked every job you can
think of.  The only thing comes close to being worse is my love life." 

This made Angela giggle and she turned.  She looked different. 
Different from the first time Zed had seen her in Kevin’s living room, 
wearing Kevin’s oversized t-shirt.  Different from the night before.  
Different. There was a longing in her eyes.  For what, he had no idea.  
But it was a longing, it was a mirror. 

"Why do you do this?" Zed asked.  Angela didn’t answer immediately,
which made Zed want to bite off his tongue.  "Sorry," he said wrapping 
his fingers around the mug and keeping his face averted.  Her eyes were 
on him, he felt them burning through his skull and careening through 
all the thoughts he could ever have around her. 

"Honestly?" said Angela.  "The money.  It’s five hundred bucks just to
sit and listen to some drunk depressed about his life.  Five hundred 
bucks for an hour, and most times they’re so drunk they can’t even talk 
let alone do anything else.  I’m vain, I’ll admit it.  I grew up poor, 
in a trailer with five brothers and sisters.  I have a degree in 
Biology, but unless I’m working for the government, I won’t be making 
the kind of money I want – I need.  I don’t want to waste away at some 
lab looking at bacteria for forty years.  I like money and I want lots 
of it.  I’m not going to sit around for some Sheikh to come by and 
shower gold on me.  I want money and I want it now.  More than I can 
count, more than any bank account can hold.  I watch people get on the 
bus and train in the morning, sad, depressed, tired, and still going 
back to have the life sucked out of them day after day.  Still, they’re 
always in debt, always unhappy.  Not for me." 

She was sitting across from him by the time she finished speaking.  The
sun had grown stronger and broken through the clouds and was reflecting 
mightily off the yellow walls of the room.  Zed and Angela sat like two 
twigs in a bonfire. 

"What else would these guys do?" Zed said. 

"Huh?" 

"You said let alone do anything else.  What could they do? You know, the
- clients?" 

"Anything.  I don’t say it, because it’s illegal to solicit sex for
money. All I say is ‘You have an hour of my time,’ and go wherever 
things lead.  If they initiate, I only go along." 

Zed went to the sink and drained the rest of the coffee out of the mug
and filled it with water.  He leaned against the sink and looked with 
restless anticipation at Angela. 

"Have you gone – all the way with anyone yet?" he asked. 

"Sure." 

"Since you met Kevin?" 

"Even if I did, your buddy and I would be even.  You know Kevin well
enough to know he’s about as faithful as a tomcat." 

An alarm clock began blasting a radio talk show in another room. 

"Guess that’s my cue to leave," said Zed. 

"Mom, I’m hungry."  A boy with strikingly red hair and green eyes came
out and wrapped his arms around Angela. 

"Morning handsome," said Angela and kissed the boy on the cheek.  "You
want some cereal?" 

The boy nodded and kept his lazy head on Angela’s shoulder. 

"I’ll make breakfast and get your lunch ready.  You go wash up,
alright?" 

The boy nodded again and looked up.  His eyes met Zed’s. 

"Who’s that?" he asked. 

Angela said, "This is my friend Ar – Zed.  Zed, this is Patrick." 

"That’s a cool name," said Patrick, smiled, and walked away.  He was a
spitting image of Angela. 

Zed walked in to his apartment, tired, ready to sleep the rest of the
day. He was to be back on the job, same time as the night before.  The 
schedule was agreeing with him.  He was never a day person, let alone a 
morning bunny.  The only thing that daytime had to offer him was the 
opportunities to visit his bank, maybe go to the store for a coke, or 
make phone calls to people that adhered to the strict nine-to-five 
dictum.  His body touched the mattress and sleep took over like a drug. 


He had that centaur dream again and this time the three childhood
friends were replaced by Mother, Father, and ex-girlfriend. 

He opened the front door in mad sleep stupor around one in the afternoon
and looked into the worried face of Carly Chang. 

"You were gone all night," Carly said like a mother or a wife. 

"What’s wrong? Was your father looking for me?" 

"No.  I was.  I came by four times last night." 

"What is it?" 

"I wanted to tell you that I talked Dad into giving you a break this
month. >From the rent.  He owed me one." 

"He seems to owe you a lot." 

Carly blushed. 

"You don’t have to do that," said Zed.  "I can pay rent.  I got a job." 

Carly’s eyes widened.  "You did? Where?" 

Zed took a moment to answer and said, "Limo driver for rich people." 

He recognized that longing in Carly, which he had seen in Angela’s eyes,
which he had seen in his own reflection.  What was it about this vacant 
longing that rendered its victims so impotent? It vacated the being of 
everything, that’s what.  There was nothing left after its cleansing 
blitz. That’s what. 

"Your father can rest assured he’ll have the rent at the end of the
month," said Zed. 

"I’m glad things are working out for you," Carly said sadly.  The last
string of a dream snapped coldly, right through the center.  His 
inability to keep a roof over his head allowed her to be able to keep 
him in her life. It was a motive, and it was ulterior, and she did in 
all earnestness plead with her cantankerous father to not hassle Zed 
about the rent.  They had money.  Generations of it passed down with 
the sustenance power to see the next ten generations through Ivy League 
schools and multi-room mansions. Zed’s measly five hundred would add to 
the legacy as much as a Polar wind in January. 

"That’s all I wanted to say," said Carly and bid goodbye. 

Zed slept for four more hours and woke up famished.  He remembered the
hundred from Angela.  He took it out of his pocket, crumpled into a 
ball, and unfurled it.  She really only took four hundred, he thought, 
maybe less, because Mandy had to have a cut too. 

He wolfed down a meal of scrambled eggs, bacon strips, turkey links,
Swedish pancakes, and two pots of coffee at IHOP, and walked to the 
Tippling House for beers and the hopes of seeing women. 

The place was a desert when Zed walked in.  The young bartender was
smoking a cigarette and watching a Star Trek rerun on TV.  Zed put down 
a twenty and asked for its course to be run in the cheapest domestic 
brew.  Before the job wasn’t on the job.  He wondered for a moment if 
Angela would be his girl tonight, then shrugged off all thoughts and 
drank. 

Mandy looked at him suspiciously and handed him a different address. 

"What?" said Zed with an air of arrogant indifference. 

"You’re taking two girls to a bachelor party." 

"I’ve been to my share of them, it’s not rocket science." 

"Anything happens, it’s on your head." 

"Can I go now?" 

He was tight in the head and he knew it. 

The new address was a couple of blocks away from Angela’s place.  Both
girls were at the apartment when Zed knocked on the door.  One was 
dressed in a trench coat, the other in fitting leather pants and a tiny 
string bean of a top topped with a denim jacket. 

The trench coat girl was the talkative one. 

"You’re new, huh?" she said as soon as they started driving.  "I’m Sunny
and this is Luna.  What’s your name?" 

"Archie," said Zed. 

Sunny giggled like a Valley girl.  "Your real name." 

"Archie," said Zed and turned up the radio.  Sunny slid back in her seat
and said something to Luna.  Luna didn’t respond, lit a cigarette and 
rolled down her window. 

The party was at an upscale condo in Lincoln Park.  Zed parked the car
and the three of them went up to the entrance. 

"You know what to do, right?" Sunny said. 

"Let him do his job," said Luna. 

Zed knew he was entering a realm that he despised more than anything:
yuppieville.  The place reeked of young punks with too much money and 
attitudes that made them feel invincible.  World on a string.  What did 
it m atter? There were two hundred dollars waiting for him at the end 
of the night; one hour.  Another hundred from Mandy.  Three hundred in 
less than a real shift’s work.  He could take it.  They ought to have a 
sizable amount of liquor up there, so he’ll get himself a beer and a 
shot of whiskey, go to the next room, and make the drinks last one full 
hour. 

Two other strippers were already there when a red-faced young guy
holding a can of beer and peering out of pot-smoked, bloodshot eyes 
opened the door and yelled some incomprehensible greeting to Sunny, at 
the helm of the of the train, did the same to Luna, and shut off 
instantly like a switch flipped inside him upon seeing Zed. 

"Who’re you?" he said. 

"I’m their daddy.  Are we cool?" Zed said. 

The guy looked Zed up and down and nodded. 

There was a circle of catcalling men surrounding the two strippers. 
Bills were flying out their hands and falling at the feet of the girls. 
 One was down to her bare skin, the other topless.  The naked one was 
paying special attention to a bald man with hands big enough to cover 
all of her ass.  He was getting the full treatment.  Face in the 
breasts, strokes to the groin, tongue in the ear, all of it.  The man 
reached in his pocket and brought out a wad of bills.  Fifties and 
hundred.  He counted about twenty of them and handed them to the 
stripper.  She took them, licked his lips like an iguana, and started 
leading him out of the circle.  They walked by Zed, oblivious of anyone 
around them, the man grinning like the Grinch, and the stripper with 
dollar signs in her pupils like a cartoon character, bee-lined down a 
long hallway and disappeared behind a door at the end of the stretch. 

Sunny was without a doubt the chatterbox, but Luna was definitely the
doer when it came time.  She went to one of the revelers and whispered 
something in his ear.  He passed the message on to the person next to 
him.  Another wad of bills came out the pocket of the third person, ten 
crisp one hundreds extracted and passed down to Luna.  In those few 
minutes alone enough money had changed hands to have covered three 
months worth of rent and kept Mr. Chang happily at bay. 

Luna came to Zed and said, "We got it covered.  You can relax if you
want." 

Zed took her up on it.  He got two beers from the fridge, which garnered
a vicious look from the moon-faced yuppie that was the designated 
bartender, poured a highball of Jack Daniels, straight, and trekked 
down the hallway in search of a room of his own.  He passed a door that 
was slightly ajar and popped his head in.  Someone was already passed 
out on a futon.  What the hell, Zed thought, walked in and shut the 
door.  He woke the sleeper as soon as he sat on the futon. 

"Shit!" the sleeper hissed. 

"Sorry," said Zed and held out a beer for him. 

The sleeper took it and popped the cap. 

"I’m Archie," said Zed. 

"They got more girls? Goddamn, these sons a bitches can’t enough." 

"You here with the other girls?" 

"What gave it away?" 

The sleeper took a swig of the beer. 

"Buzzy – that’s my fake name," he said and held out his hand. 

Zed shook it and said, "Archie’s my fake too." 

"I just brought the girls over and already the called for more." 

"They’re throwing around serious cash out there." 

"Yeah, nothing means shit to these bastards." 

"I just saw them drop a thousand bucks in less than five minutes.  Let
me ask you something.  They can do whatever with the girls if they pay 
for it, right?" 

Buzzy chugged the beer and hiccupped.  "Long as it’s okay with the girl.
 I ’ve seen a few jackasses in my time just can’t take no for answer.  
It’s a money thing sure, but you have to keep in mind, it’s a girl, and 
no matter what, she isn’t going to go with some jerk that wants to 
treat her like a medicine ball." 

"How do you know so much about the girls?" 

"I talk to them.  It’s a rarity.  I ask questions and they talk.  It’s
the job.  Makes them want to have a real conversation, and just that, 
with a man after seeing a night’s worth of the sorriest excuses for our 
kind." 

"You’ve been doing this for a while then?" 

"One year.  I’m a writer.  And no, this isn’t research.  I wouldn’t know
where to start writing about any of this.  I do it ‘cause the money’s 
decent, and the job, as you can see, needs no qualification besides a 
drivers license." 

The party was rising in volume.  Sunny and Luna had probably taken over
the reins.  The music had gone up considerably, and every now and then 
there were collective oohs and aahs from the men. 

"What do you write?" Zed asked.  He’d finished the beer and was sipping
the Daniels, without anything else to cut it with. 

"Nothing in a year.  Started a novel last year, got through two hundred
pages, took a break, got dumped by my girl, and started this job.  
What’s your story?" 

"Professionally unemployed." 

Buzzy laughed. 

"You’re getting some good material from this job," said Zed.  "Ought to
make a bestseller list someday." 

"Maybe in Japan.  Here it’ll end up being a movie of the week, if that."


"So, in a year, have you ever, you know, had anything with any of the
girls? I know it’s against the rules, but..." 

"Imagine this," said Buzzy, "I’m walking around in a daze of rage and
confusion, mostly drunk.  The first job I take after being flung on my 
ass by the girl I wanted to marry is this.  Women, day and night.  
They’re vulnerable, I’m a textbook on rebound." 

"So?" 

"So – there was one.  She’s here tonight.  It caused some trouble but we
covered our tracks.  We both got warnings, but I was the only driver at 
the time so I got off with a tongue-lashing." 

"Which one was she?" 

"The blond one." 

Zed realized it was the girl that took the bald man and his money to the
private quarters. 

"Then again," Buzzy went on, "She has a reputation for screwing
anything, with or without money.  Money just makes her say yes faster.  
She’s a good girl with a decent heart.  Listened to me a lot and tried 
to be comforting. I, being in the state of mind with the emotional 
balance of a chipmunk, saw kindness as something else and fell for her. 
 Well, she snapped me out of it with a reality check, and as Nature 
would have it, I’ve been pining for her ever since.  That’s the bitch 
of life, isn’t it?" 

"You’re trying to replace your girlfriend.  Happens all the time.  I’ve
done it more times than I care to remember." 

"Yeah – well – hell, let’s get some drinks." 

"Is it alright for us to just walk out anytime?" 

"We’re in charge of the girls.  It’s alright for us to do anything." 

Both Sunny and Luna were naked and making out with each other while the
drunken yuppies ogled them with genitals coming out of their eyes.  The 
other girl was giving someone a lap dance in a dark corner.  Zed was 
glad that Angela – Heaven – wasn’t part of this.  There was something 
about Luna that he found appealing, her air of treating a job like a 
job and not getting carried away, unless it was for the job, and she 
had with ease shed that mask to do what she was doing and not a soul 
would be able to tell if she liked it or detested every minute.  She 
had her mouth around Sunny’s like it was a cool watermelon on a 
sweltering summer afternoon. 

Buzzy brought out a beer and looked at the party.  Zed dropped cubes of
ice into the Daniels. 

"Where the hell is Amber?" said Buzzy getting on guard like a hunting
dog. 

"Who’s Amber?" Zed asked. 

"The blond, where the hell is she?" 

Zed wanted to hold back, but Buzzy looked ready for blood, and getting
from anyone, innocent or guilty. 

"She went to that room," said Zed pointing down the hallway. 

"Goddamnit!" Buzzy hissed and started toward the room.  He burst in
without knocking, setting off a barrage of profanity from the bald man. 
 Amber wasn’ t thrilled either.  Buzzy didn’t care much about either of 
their sentiments. He came out of the dark room with Amber in tow, with 
the silhouette of the bald man pasted against a large window through 
which came a spray of fluorescent streetlight.  The party hadn’t felt 
the commotion until Buzzy came in like a bulldozer in search of Amber’s 
clothes.  She continued sputtering and cursing, and Buzzy’s hand 
remained around her arm like a clamp. 

The circle of guys broke up, Sunny and Luna stopped kissing, and the lap
dance ended in mid-stream. 

"Everybody stay cool, I don’t need shit from anyone," Buzzy warned.  He
found a pile of clothes on the ground, picked out a skirt and top, and 
held them against Amber’s chest.  "You got five minutes, and don’t try 
any stupid shit." 

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Amber snarled. 

"Guy that’ll save your ass when all this is over." 

"Go to hell!" 

"You know the rules, Amber." 

One of the yuppies tried to butt in.  Buzzy swiftly shut up him up with
one growled "Back off!"  That kept them all at arm’s length. 

"Don’t tell me about the rules, you self-righteous bastard! And don’t
touch me!" 

"Let’s just go.  This isn’t the place for it.  You want Jane to get
pissed again?" 

Zed’s ears perked up.  Jane? The same Jane? 

Amber calmed down and huffed off to the bathroom to get dressed.  A move
rather melodramatic considering she’d been prancing around in the buff 
all night. 

"You alright?" Zed asked Buzzy while the party never resumed and the
band of revelers began dispersing and leaving.  Sunny and Luna got 
dressed and were sitting on the couch, smoking and chatting, like what 
had just passed was a staple part of their everyday life.  Buzzy looked 
at Zed. 

"Goddamn bitch breaks my heart every chance she gets," said Buzzy. 

Amber came out of the bathroom, dressed and still irate.  She kept
walking and went out the door. 

"Thanks for listening," said Buzzy and went after Amber.  The living
room was empty except Zed, Sunny, Luna, and the guy that was getting 
the lap dance, passed out and snoring in his corner. 

"Who’s Jane?" Zed asked sitting on a coffee table and facing Sunny and
Luna.  Sunny instantly launched in the Valley girl giggle, and Luna 
blew out a cloud of smoke. 

"She’s Mandy’s way of keeping the fear alive in us," Luna said. 

"Mandy is Jane." 

"Can we get out of here? I hate these places to begin with.  They’re so
depressing without the losers that live in them." 

"Sure." 

Carly was walking up to Zed’s door when he took out his keys and came up
behind her. 

"You startled me," she said and blushed. 

"Sorry.  What’s up?" 

"Nothing.  I wanted to see if you’re in.  This job keeps you out every
night, huh?" 

"It’s when people go out most." 

"That’s true.  You’ve been drinking?" 

"One of the few benefits of the job." 

"What’re some others?" 

"The job itself.  I sit on my ass and drive around in car." 

"And the people.  What’re they like?" 

"Interesting."  Zed sighed and felt the tightness take over his head
again. 

"Sounds exciting," said Carly, an invisible dream playing out somewhere
behind those eyes. 

"What do you do, besides standing up for deadbeat tenants to your
father?" Zed asked. 

"I take care of all the paperwork for our properties.  And act like
Dad’s secretary sort of.  I don’t have brothers and sisters so it’s all 
me." 

"What about Mrs. Chang?" 

"She died when I was ten." 

"Sorry." 

"It’s alright.  So, that sums up the extent of my life.  I went to
Northwestern for two years, then had to drop out to help Dad.  Pretty 
ordinary stuff." 

"It’s not ordinary, Carly.  It’s normal.  It’s real.  And you do a heck
of a job with it.  You’ve gone out of your way to keep a roof over my 
head.  I appreciate that.  I really do.  Would you be offended if I 
wanted to buy you dinner as a token of thanks?" 

Carly thought for a moment.  Zed wished he wasn’t tight and had some
control over his tongue. 

"I’ll bore you to death after all the exciting people you meet on your
job," she said. 

"Not a chance.  You’ll be a breath of fresh air.  Boy, will you be a
breath of fresh air." 

Carly smiled and said, "It’s a date." 


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