Clancy Martin - How to Sell

“Let’s do it here,” she said. She put the globe on Jim’s desk. If it rolls off it will chip, crack, or even break, I thought. “I said we were going to do it in your office.”

I held her drink in my hand. “Here,” I said. I motioned her into my office. “Why don’t we have a drink?” I said.

“Where do you want to do it?” she said. I wondered if she was already drunk. I could not ask her that, either. “What about on your desk?”

“Let’s look,” I said. I put her drink on my desk. “Here’s your drink,” I said. “It’s kind of messy in here.”

“We’ll clear it off. I don’t mind.” She got off the elephant. She walked into my office. She picked up Jim’s stapler before she left his office.

“We’ll clear off anything sharp,” she said. She took her drink. “This is strong,” she said. She swallowed the whole drink quickly.

“I hate all this Christmas crap,” she said. “Why do you guys fuck up this nice store with hanging all this Santa Claus shit?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

She was moving things on my desk.

“The mess is kind of organized,” I said.

“I want to do it on your desk. We don’t have to do it on your desk. Could I have another one?” She clicked the stapler. Folded staples fell out of it.

“Diamond scales are funny. I would have to recalibrate my diamond scale. You know how sensitive they are. You can weigh a human hair on a diamond scale.”

“Move the damn scale, Bobby. I want to fuck. Like we used to fuck. Let’s really fuck like we’re fucking fucking.”

“That’s what I’m saying. That’s the problem. They are like tropical fish. Like saltwater fish. You know you can’t really move them.”

“What about under the desk? Are you going to make me another drink?”

She might be in a hurry for another drink because she wants another drink, I thought. But she might want me out of the room again. She never took her shirt off like that. But she wasn’t encouraging me to drink.

“You won’t fit under there. Not with my legs.”

“I meant both of us, Bobby. Why are you nervous now? What’s wrong, little Bobby?” Suddenly she was sarcastic. I was afraid of that. “Don’t you want to say it? Just say it, Bobby. Say what I know you want to fucking say.”

Now I suppose I understand what she wanted me to say. I’m pretty sure I do. But I did not know that night. And it might have helped me if I had. At least, I don’t believe I knew.

“Seriously. You are not in a position to be nervous, Bobby.” She gave me an unexpectedly cogent look. “I am the one who should be acting nervous, here.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You are acting weird.”

“I am the same me. I promise.” I didn’t know what to say. So I said, “I’m sorry.”

“Nice.” She laughed. “That’s real nice. Good, Bobby, I’m real glad. I’m real happy for you. Fuck it. I give up. Let’s do it, then. Let’s do it right here. But I want another drink.”

Maybe that could help us out of this, I thought. Sex, I mean, not another drink. It couldn’t make this situation any sadder or more dangerous. Worth a try.

Another drink was a good idea, too.

“Maybe in back. Anyone could walk up here.”

“No.” She clicked the stapler some more. “You said. You said in your office.”

“The whole thing is the office. The whole store. It’s all my office. I own the whole thing.”

“I thought Jim owns it. Jim owns it.”

“What are you talking about? We both own it. Is this some bullshit Sylvia told you? We own it together.”

“But Jim started it. Sorry,” she said, and laughed. “I mean, I’m sorry but it’s true.”

I did not have anything to say. She stumbled and caught herself on the desk. When she looked up at me her mouth curled like she wanted to bite me.

“You coward. You fucking coward.”

Don’t disagree with her, Bobby. She’s drunk, and worse. Let her say whatever she wants you to say. None of this matters.

“And Sylvia knows more than you think.”

“About the store, I mean. That’s all I was saying, Lisa. I wasn’t trying to say anything big. Can we just—” Don’t tell her to calm down, Bobby, you know what that will do. “Sylvia doesn’t know about the store.”

“I don’t know,” she said. She laughed. “It’s none of your business.” She laughed harder. “I like this office,” she said, and went back into Jim’s office. “This office is comfortable,” she said. She sat in his chair and crossed her legs. She put her empty drink down on the desk. “Another drink, please,” she said.

“We are not having sex in this office,” I said.

“I think I should say where we’re having sex. I’m the whore. It’s my rules.”

“Let’s go to my apartment. You were right,” I said. “Put your shirt back on, Lisa.”

“No. We’re doing it right here,” she said. “Right here where you promised. Right here in this chair. But first I want another drink.” She laughed again. I tried to laugh along with her. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing here, Bobby?”

Right, I wanted to say. That’s the question.

“I want to fuck you and then I want you to pay me for it,” she said. “That is how this is supposed to work. Works. That’s how I work, Bobby.”

“I know what kind of work you do, Lisa. You don’t have to remind me.” Cool it, Bobby. That is not helping. Slow down.

“Are you going to fuck me or not? I need some money. I need some fucking money, Bobby. Will you listen to what somebody is saying for once in your life? Get it? Give me some fucking money.”

“Lisa, if you need some money I’ll give you some money. Why didn’t you just say you needed some money?”

“Oh that’s real nice. Thanks a lot.”

She was rubbing her hands on her hips, quickly, over and over. She had lost some weight and she looked like she might rub her jeans right down her legs. Suddenly she grabbed her T-shirt off Jim’s desk and pulled it over her head. That was something. It was inside out, but I wasn’t saying anything.

“I’m not your fucking charity case, Bobby.”

I gave her three thousand dollars, which was what we had in the cash box, and she left in a hurry. I knew I shouldn’t have let her drive but I couldn’t imagine trying to put her in my car. We both had plenty of practice driving drunk. The crank would help her see. If Jim asked me any questions I would be pleased to tell him the truth.

T he winter morning was very cold and the parking lot was still dark. I pulled in, running late, looking for Lisa’s car, hoping, maybe, that she had slept in it. Slept in it but not frozen to death.

When I came in Sosa was sitting at my desk, with his jacket off and his elbows jutting out. I worried that there might be some evidence on my desk from the night before. But we hadn’t done anything. In the end we hadn’t even done any drugs.

He was gaining weight in his arms, I noticed. I sat down and ignored him for a minute while I looked through my messages. I had a stack of them, pink papers like playing cards, spilled all over my desk pad.

“Boss, I’m going to tell you the truth,” he said. Bad news, I thought. He had not called me boss in months. “I’ve found another job.”

“It’s nearly Christmas, Sosa,” I said. “You cannot quit at Christmas.”

“It’s not my fault. I didn’t have a choice,” he said. “It’s with Waltham’s. A real Rolex dealer.”

Even my employees do it to me now, I thought. Real Rolexes. As opposed to the other kind? I was past explaining this to people.

“Can you tell Jim for me? I’m afraid to.”

“Give us the season, Sosa. Start on the twenty-seventh. That’s not too much to ask.”