The well-rehearsed lie rolled off his tongue. He expected the applause. Most people clapped to be polite when they feared for their job. But as he glanced across the room, he let his gaze slip a little too low. The expressions on most faces were decidedly worried, and with good reason. The sooner he fired these small-town yahoos and sold off the company in bits and pieces, the sooner he’d be back home in New York City with a shiny new job title in hand.
NINE BUSINESS DAYS and thirty interviews later, James had yet to fire anyone of import. Mailroom workers and secretaries didn’t count. Nor did he count the contract workers who had come up for renewal during that period. He was still at the office on Friday night, but he had nothing better to do. It wasn’t like there was a gallery opening or new restaurant or new bar to check out.
His phone kicked out a few bars of a rap song, interrupting the quiet. This was the last person he wanted to talk to.
“Hey, Danny.”
“Hey, Cuz. This is the first time I’ve gotten VIP passes and you aren’t here to enjoy them. Sucks.”
“Yeah. Where to?” James didn’t want to know. Asking was habit.
“New place. Opened last weekend.”
“It will probably go under before I’m back.”
“You got shafted that’s for sure.”
“Seriously. Why did you suggest this place?”
“Eli, remember him from Blake’s divorce party?”
“Yeah.”
“We were drinking.”
“That was the point of the weekend.”
“Yeah, well he made a killing on energy out in California. This had the same kind of credentials.”
“Except location.” He’d add Eli to his list of personal contacts with industry knowledge, bringing his list to a total of three people.
“Better you than me, although doesn’t sound like there’s much out there. Seriously bro, I checked the tinder pickings out there.” James could almost hear Danny shake his head. “Ah, it will all be over soon, and you’ll be back here.”
“There are no tap rooms or sushi bars. If I asked for sake, I’d probably get a plastic bag. Put all that together, and December is a long way off.”
“This partnership thing will be done before then. I cut twenty percent of payroll this week. It’s not hard.”
James picked up the liquid Mylanta from his desk. There was a half a swig left, insufficient to get the job of settling his gut done. He’d gotten the short straw in this deal. Energy wasn’t as simple as retail, not that retail was a cakewalk. Oh sure, he identified and eliminated a few pieces of dead weight—the whole R&D department seemed useless as producing innovation—but it was clear that he would have to battle the union to cut benefits. Danny had it easy.
“Good for you. You have something to celebrate tonight.” He wondered if Danny picked up on his lack of shared joy. Probably not or if he did, Danny probably considered winning the head game another victory to celebrate.”
“I’d tell you to give me a champagne toast tonight but from what Dad said after going out for your introduction, you can’t even get real scotch.”
“Oh yea. The two bars serve beer, beer light, and knock-off schnapps. Neither place knows how to make a decent Moscow Mule or even a pathetic Old Fashioned.” James may have exaggerated the severity, but neither craft beer nor craft spirits had found a footing in Belkin.
“At least you don’t have any distractions.”
“Just you calling.” Danny guffawed like that was the best joke ever. If he became partner before James, Danny would be absolutely insufferable.
SATURDAY MORNING, JAMES climbed into his car and drove through the town of misery, or what passed for a town. He waited three minutes at a stoplight but didn’t see another car. As much as he wanted to take his foot off the break and roll through the intersection, he didn’t dare because last week, another car was on the road when he went through. A police car driven by Officer Un-friendly, who happily issued him a ticket.
“Useless place.” James shook his head as the light changed. On the side street, he spied a police officer hanging out the window of his car aiming some crazy radar thing at him. A few minutes later, the vehicle appeared in his rear-view mirror. This town of 800 people was even boring to the police who worked here because they had nothing better to do than to follow him around in hopes of issuing a ticket.
The police force must be in desperate financial shape and James was not going to help them one bit by getting a silly ticket for going two miles over the speed limit. The police would have to settle for picking up drunks on the weekend and that would not be him. The closest thing to a DJ in a nightclub was the jukebox at the bar—or rather the choice of two jukeboxes—one at each drinking establishment. The more tolerable one served beer in cans and featured music by Elvis and the Beatles, but the jukebox was only plugged in if a game wasn’t on. The other bar had five beer on tap. Customers had a choice of beer or beer-light and a musical choice of country or western.
The town seemed entirely populated by old men, families with young children, teenagers understandably anxious to leave this cesspool, and Adena workers who feared for their jobs. The few shops seemed to sell used goods to cheap customers. He imagined the interiors of the antique stores had a layer of dust on the inside to match the filth of the window. The barber shop had a classic red and white pole, but specialized in comb-overs, not hot shaves. Belkin was not the best scene—social, retail, dining, whatever—to be stuck in for
