Jim Gavin - Middle Men - Stories

“Misty!”

She was right in front of him, curled up in the laundry room. She lifted her head and immediately started barking. Adam wedged his right shoulder through the doggy door and reached up, looking for the knob. He unlocked it and pushed the door open. He moved slowly, as Max insisted, but Misty retreated from the laundry room, still barking, her claws clattering on the dusty wood floor. Adam lunged, but the floor was wet and he slipped backward, landing hard on his hip and elbow. Misty was still barking. Adam, realizing he had slipped in dog piss, sprang to his feet. He walked into the kitchen, where he immediately met the gaze of a red-haired woman in a black bathrobe. She was drinking coffee at a small table.

“Are you a messenger?” she asked, calmly, holding her coffee cup just under her lips.

Adam shook his head slowly; he was too nervous to speak. Behind her, on the wall, there was a giant bulletin board overflowing with yellow newspaper clippings. Misty, suddenly quiet, was sitting at her feet.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I work for the show. I’m the new P.A.”

“I guess Max burned his way through all the messengers.” She took a sip of coffee. “Is he here?”

“He’s waiting in my car.”

She nodded quietly. Her hands were pale and freckled and Adam could see thick crescents of dirt under her nails. In front of her a pair of scissors was resting on a thick pile of newspapers from all over the world, with headlines written in several different languages. He saw a fly looping over a sink full of dishes.

“Did he tell you what happened last week?” she asked.

“No.”

“He took Misty on a walk up in the canyon and she got sprayed by a skunk. So do you know what that man did? He had a cabdriver bring her back here. He must’ve paid the guy a fortune.” She shook her head in disgust and then looked at Adam. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” said Adam. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Her expression remained calm and businesslike.

“That would be great,” said Adam.

She got up, adjusted her robe, and walked over to the sink. She pulled a glass off the pile of dishes, rinsed it out, filled it, and handed the glass to Adam. A pair of reading glasses dangled from her neck; instead of a chain they were held fast by a grimy white shoelace. Adam, still smelling piss on his shorts, looked down at Misty, who seemed exhausted after all the excitement. She had trouble keeping her eyes open.

“Has Max told you about his book?” asked Joanne.

“Yeah, he’s talked about it. A lot.”

“That’s what he’ll do. He’ll talk about it and talk about it. And he’ll never finish it. Do you know why?”

Adam shook his head.

“Because then he wouldn’t be able to talk about it anymore.”

“I’m really sorry about all this,” said Adam. “Max said you would be at mass.”

She blew her nose on the sleeve of her robe. “I’m sure he did. This isn’t the first time he’s tried something like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I know you’re just doing your job.” She reached down and rubbed Misty behind the ears. “You can go out the front door. Tell Max I said hello.”

On his way out, Adam saw more bulletin boards; they covered every wall of the living room, layer after layer of curled yellow clippings, creeping up the walls like ivy.

Adam took his time getting back to his car. When he climbed in, Max said, “Where’s Misty?”

The glove compartment was open and several maps were strewn about Max’s feet, unfolded.

“What’s that smell?” said Max.

Adam reached for a towel and started wiping himself off.

“What happened?” Max said.

“Joanne was waiting for us,” said Adam.

“Goddamn her.” Max slapped the dashboard and lolled his head back in frustration. “That woman is a genius.”

Adam started the car, but Max gripped him firmly by the wrist.

“What are you doing? You have to go back.”

“I can’t go back in there.”

“Remind her that you’re acting within my legal rights.”

“She just caught me breaking and entering.”

Max let go of Adam’s wrist. “Okay. Drive over to the house. We’ll both go.”

“No.”

“You don’t understand. She doesn’t exercise Misty. The woman just sits there all day, doing nothing.”

“She told me about the skunk.”

“Listen. I’ve made mistakes in my life. I know that. But to have my life annulled ? You will never understand that kind of pain.”

“How much did you pay the cabdriver?”

“My whole life I’ve abided in the magisterium, and now it’s being used against me. I haven’t taken the sacraments in five years. What if I died right now?”

“Did you even hose her off?”

Max finally looked at him. “Of course I did. I did everything I could for that dog, within reason. Now let’s go.”

“I’m not going back.”

“Drive!”

“Stop yelling. I have a headache.”

“Drive!”

“Mr. Lavoy, will you please shut up? Please?”

• • •

On Monday morning, Melanie bought Adam lunch at the studio café and they ate outside in the courtyard. He asked her more about her acting days, and she told him a few good stories, including the time she auditioned for The Rockford Files . She didn’t get the part, but she met James Garner, who seemed like a very sweet and genuine man.

“Please put me down as a reference,” she said later, picking through her salad. “You won’t have trouble landing somewhere on the lot.”

“Are you getting a temp?”

“Sure. For a little while.”

Adam wanted to recommend the guy he used to temp with, but he couldn’t remember his name. One of the casting offices was disgorging midgets. Melanie gave him a hug and went back to her office.

Adam dropped his badge off at the police station on Main Street and then walked to City Hall to collect his final paycheck. Melanie had arranged for him to get a generous severance. When he got back to the show’s offices, Doug had the keys to the Benz and he gave him a ride to the parking structure. He wasn’t wearing his mask.

“So what was she like?”

“Who?”

“Max’s ex-wife.”

“She’s probably the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” said Adam. He got out of the cart and shook Doug’s hand.

“Good luck with Paralegals .”

“That’s dead. My new project’s called Nurse Practitioners .”

They agreed to meet for lunch in a couple weeks, but Adam knew it wouldn’t happen. Doug was a busy man and, in spite of himself, he was a total pro. Adam knew this was the last time he’d ever set foot on the lot.

• • •

On Friday, he arrived early. Frankie was stoned out of his mind and had no real memory of Adam’s ignoble speech from the week before.

“I got my hands on some truly evil shit from Vancouver,” he explained, holding up a plastic baggie. “Sometimes you have to treat yourself.”

Adam tried to apologize, but Frankie told him to forget it.

By seven o’clock most of the regulars had shown up. Chris Hobbs returned, wearing a porkpie hat, and Adam instantly hated him again, but not as much as before. Hobbs found Adam and sheepishly promised to repay him for dinner, as soon as he could. Adam sat down, taking his normal place among the terrorists. The pedophile was there, as weird and dauntless as ever, and Ramon and Trapper Keeper were there, and a bunch of new people. Adam had nothing prepared. His plan was to sit there all night, drinking and cheering and listening to all the other souls who, like him, depended on the incorruptible spirit of El Goof.