FIVE
Malone said, “Where you been, Country? I done closed two deals while you were gone.”
“I had to see a friend.”
McGinnes was nearby, waiting on a compact stereo customer. He turned to me, cupped his hand around his tie, and began stroking it feverishly, his eyes closed and face contorted.
Louie was moving slowly down the center aisle, his short arms propelling him forward as they swung across his barrel chest. I could hear his labored breathing as he approached.
“Call your girl from the Post,” he said.
“You mean Patti?”
“Yeah. She sound nice. She look good too?”
“Too young for you, Louie. You’d stroke out.”
“Never too old to gyrate,”man he said, and demonstrated briefly with his hips. “Matter of fact, I’ll be headin’ over to Van Ness in a little while to take care of business. Might take the evening off.”
“Fine with me. Who’s on the schedule tonight?”
“Lloyd just came in. He’s on till six. Malone’s on till six too. Lee takes afternoon classes, but she’ll be back to work on through. That means you, her, and McGinnes will close tonight. That okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, Nick,” Malone said. “Check out our boy Void today. He lookin’ good.”
Lloyd was absently bumping into displays as he attempted to light his pipe while making his way to the front of the store. The pipe was a Holmesian prop, an Anglophilic symbol that he believed suggested intelligence, but Lloyd was a pale, painfully thin man with a frighteningly deathlike grin, whose appearance more accurately reflected the high school outcast who hears voices from beyond as he clutches his hall locker. Today his woodgrain crucifix hung on a rawhide string over a lime green polyester shirt, hooked up with forest green bellbottoms.
The boys used Lloyd to run errands and as the butt of their practical jokes, while Louie kept him around to fill in odd hours on the schedule. As a stockboy I had been continually demeaned by him in the presence of customers, when he wasn’t critiquing my heathen lifestyle or trying to convince me of his close personal relationship with Jesus. His full name was Lloyd Danker, though all of us, Louie included, called him Void Wanker.
Lloyd looked me over in that way of his that always expressed superiority. The corners of his mouth spread into a sickly smile, and he yanked his pipe out to reveal a cockeyed row of yellow teeth.
“I see management’s been good to you, Nick. You’ve come a long way.”
McGinnes’ customer, who was walking, reached the front door, turned his head back, and said, “Thanks.” McGinnes, waving to the customer, said, “Thank you.” And then, still waving and in a quickly lowered voice, added, “You piece of shit.”
The customer smiled, waved back, and disappeared down the Avenue.
“Good close, Johnny,” Louie said.
McGinnes shook his head and said, “ Putz. ”
McGinnes, Malone, Louie, Lloyd, and I were standing in a circle near the counter. McGinnes had his arms folded. Louie leaned against a “stack and sell” microwave oven display with his hands in his pockets. Malone had just lit a Newport and was blowing the first heavy drag towards Lloyd, who stood awkwardly in forced casualness with his hip cocked, the pipe hanging from the side of his mouth like some comic-strip hillbilly.
“Yeah,” Malone said slowly, “looks like I might be top dog around here this month.” He gave McGinnes a sidelong glance and held it there rather theatrically.
McGinnes said, “The month ain’t over yet, Jim.”
Lloyd jumped in with, “I’m having a pretty good month myself.”
“Yeah,” McGinnes said, “for a guy who couldn’t sell a lifeboat on the Titanic, you’re having a good month.”
Lloyd blinked hard and pulled the crucifix out and away from his chest, holding it gently as if Christ himself were still upon it. “I wouldn’t really expect you guys to understand, but there’s more to life than closing deals and spasmating your genitals.”
Malone ran an open hand across his own crotch and said, “Maybe so, but I plan on spasmatin’ these motherfuckers tonight, Jack.” He and McGinnes gave each other skin and chuckled. Louie snorted but didn’t look up.
Lloyd smiled hopelessly and shook his head. “Anyone want coffee?”
“Yeah, get me some java while you’re out,” Malone said, then fanned away Lloyd’s outstretched hand. “I‘ll get you tomorrow, hear?” Lloyd left the store, looking something like a human scarecrow.
“Thank you, Jeeesus,” McGinnes said.
“Now that Numbnuts is gone,” Louie said, “maybe we can talk a little business. You girls don’t mind, do you?”
McGinnes looked my way and smiled impishly. His eyes were slightly glazed, undoubtedly the result of several more trips to the stockroom.
“I got a call from the office today,” Louie continued. “The Boy Wonder’s been looking at his computer again. ‘Profit margins have eroded, competition’s fierce,’ blah, blah, blah. Bottom line is, we’ve got to start selling more service policies, and I mean now. Anything you guys have to do to get the job done, you do it. If a customer refuses the policy, reduce the product price on our copy of the ticket, then add the service policy back into it to bring the total up to its original amount- after they’ve left the store, understand?”
“What if the customer finds out later they ‘bought’ a policy they didn’t want?” McGinnes said.
“I’ll handle the complaints,” Louie said with a hard stare at McGinnes, “like I always do.” He glanced out the window. “Now you all have a nice day, and write some business. In case the office calls, I’m out for the rest of the day, shopping the competition.” Then he was gone, out onto the sidewalk and heading south with his short-man’s swagger.
McGinnes and Malone split up, Malone heading back to the relative darkness of the Sound Explosion. McGinnes had picked up a sales call and was gesturing with his hands as he talked into the phone. I went around the counter and dialed Patti Dawson’s number on another line.
“Pat Dawson’s desk,” her assistant said.
“Is Patti in?”
“She’s away from her desk.”
“When you see her, tell her Nick Stefanos called.”
A blt size= pause, then, “She’s back at her desk now. Hold please.”
I held for at least a minute and listened to New Age whale music. Finally Patti picked up.
“Where you at, lover?” she said.
“In hell.”
“Back on the Avenue, huh? What’s going on?”
“Some free-lance work I couldn’t get away with in the main office. I figure I can get the job done from here, with your help.”
“What do you need?”
“You got a pen?”
“Shoot.”
“The ad I mocked up for the weekend,” I said. “Have ad services run the proofs over to me here at the store. For next weekend I want to pick up an old ad.”
“Which one?”
“Take the ad I did the second week of September, I think the head was ‘September Savings.’ Change the head to ‘October Values.’”
“How do you keep coming up with these zingers?” she asked.
“It’s pretty scary, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Have you got any camera-ready art down there of a horn-of-plenty?”
“I’m sure we do,” she said.
