Grey Areas

by Brad Carl

The men walked back to the room where Maddison had been sitting earlier. Henry sipped his beer. It wasn't that he didn't like alcohol or the feeling that a few drinks could give him. In fact, he loved it. He just didn't want to lose his wits right now. Plus, he was still tired from a whirlwind twenty-four hours, and the alcohol would only magnify this.

  As they stood and waited for the women to return, Henry listened to Chum and Fast Eddie discuss the day's events at Mecca Warehouse. Eddie bragged about up-selling an elderly couple on high-priced items and long-term replacement/repair plans. Chum gave details on new inventory that was to arrive the following week and the sales plan to sell older products fast to make room on the showroom floor.

  "Being in business is a never ending battle, Henry," Chum explained. "What did you do before you made your way to Gable?"

  "Yes, Henry," Claire chimed in as she returned to the room with Maddison. "What did you do?" She smiled and walked up next to him, touching his arm.

  Here we go again, Henry thought.

  "I was in sales," he explained. It was a lie, but at least it would fit into some of tonight's conversation.

  "Oh yeah? Where at?" Chum inquired.

  "It was a small company. Mostly phone sales selling credit card services," Henry explained, making things up as he went along. He wished he had created a backstory in his head at some point this past week.

  "Wow, what a shitty thing to have to be selling," Eddie spouted. He took a swig of beer and, with a smirk, eyeballed everyone. Henry nodded, but Chum spoke up first.

  "You've got sales experience, eh? How much is Bruce paying you?" he asked.

  "I didn't say I was good at it," Henry explained. Everyone laughed.

  "We'll talk later," Chum said as the doorbell rang. He answered it and let in a few more guests including some local Gable folks and a couple of the Chumanskys' friends from Adler.

  Everyone continued to mingle and talk, sometimes all together and sometimes in small groups. Henry was introduced to several more guests as the "new guy" and "hero." He remained modest about yesterday evening's happenings. Claire continued to cling to him while consuming a homemade margarita blended by Chum. Every few minutes or so Henry would take a sip of his now warm Budweiser.

  Not surprisingly, Fast Eddie lived up to his name. Henry observed him from a distance and saw how much Eddie liked to talk. Quite often it was impossible for anyone else to get a word in when trying to hold a conversation with him. At one point Eddie came over and asked Henry about his interview with Channel 6.

  "That Balinda Simmons is a hot little number, isn't she?" Eddie asked Henry. "They made you out to be Superman on TV!"

  "I didn't see it," Henry explained. "I don't have a television." As soon as he said this, he cringed on the inside.

  "You don't have a TV?" Eddie exclaimed. "Chum! You hear that? New guy doesn't have a television!"

  "Well, I really don't have the time to watch," Henry explained.

  "He'd have to buy a satellite dish out here," Chum added.

  "Bullshit!" Eddie blurted. "I've got friends in high and low places, my boy. You buy a TV from me and I'll get you free satellite service!"

  Henry looked around as if the satellite police might jump out and arrest someone.

  "Free satellite? How come I don't have that?" Chum shouted at his salesman as he walked across the room towards him. Eddie took a swallow from his fresh bottle of beer before responding.

  "Because you've never bought a TV from me," he explained. Chum stopped dead in his tracks.

  "Well," he said. "I guess I can't argue that."

  Everyone who was listening to the conversation laughed. Henry tried to imagine Fast Eddie dressed for work, but it was difficult to picture him in anything other than his Harley attire. He wondered how Chum got hooked up with him.

  "So, Henry," Maddison spoke up, "how did you end up here in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa?”

  Henry held his expression, not wanting to give away his frustration at once again being asked about his past. More than anything he was angry with himself because he hadn't prepared. For years he had operated under the notion that people didn't care about him, they only cared about themselves. Yet here he was, playing twenty questions with everyone. Henry knew he could make up anything reasonable and just go with it. But he'd have to keep track of it all and remain consistent. All the more reason to not impair his brain with alcohol.

  "I just happened to drive through and noticed the Corner Store was looking for help," he explained.

  "That's...different," a guest named Abby said. "You just...drove through?"

  "I guess you could say I was looking for a fresh start," Henry said.

  "Looking for a fresh start?!" Chum exclaimed. "Did you ditch a crazy wife or something?"

  Maddison punched her husband in the arm and came to Henry's defense. "He's still a young guy," she said. "There's nothing wrong with starting over, so to speak."

  "Yeah, I start over every day," Eddie added. "Drinking, that is."

  Another eruption of laughter filled the room. The party continued through the evening. Drinks flowed and Maddison served finger foods. Henry was particularly fond of her homemade bruschetta. He was glad to have the food available considering it was eight o'clock before he realized he had neglected to eat dinner.

  Claire surprised Henry by taking her time with the margaritas. After the previous night he was beginning to wonder if it was normal for her to get some booze in her blood and throw herself at a guy. Women like that were the perfect companion until the next morning when the guilt kicked in along with the hangover. Henry was glad to see Claire had some self-control.

  Fast Eddie was a different story. He continued to drink as if Chum had the last bottles of beer on Earth in his refrigerator. The more he drank, the louder and rowdier he got. Chum was Eddie's boss, but the personal relationship between the two men seemed to be completely different. And Eddie was larger than Chum, as was most everyone. Henry imagined the uncomfortable silence that would take place if Eddie were to get drunk enough to wrestle Chum to the ground and give him an atomic wedgie. The idea of Chum getting his underwear pulled out of his pants and over his head cracked Henry up. There was just something about the guy that made you want something awkward to happen to him.

  "They've been friends since they were kids," Claire told Henry as they watched Chum and Eddie. The two men were in a deep discussion about the new big-screen televisions that had arrived at Mecca Warehouse.

  "I can see that," Henry said. Claire turned and faced him.

  "Do you have any friends?" she asked.

  "Besides you?" Henry asked with a wink.

  "You know what I mean," Claire continued. "Why are you so slippery about your past?"

  Henry thought about it for a moment.

  "The past has passed. The present is present," he told her.

  "And the future?" Claire raised her eyebrows as if she would finally get a profound response from the new guy.

  "To be determined," Henry said.

  "That's pretty cryptic," a disappointed Claire responded.

  "You have to admit it made sense," Henry said, trying to lighten her mood back up.

  "Did you get that out of a fortune cookie?"

  "I think it was on an episode of Matlock."

  "You sure are something, Henry Fields." She shook her head and looked at the others across the room.

  "Chum's wife seems pretty normal," Henry observed.

  "Maddison? Yes, I guess you're right," Claire said. "A lot different than her husband. They say opposites attract, so..."

  "She's not from Gable, though?"

  "No. She's from another small town around here somewhere."

  "I wonder how they met, then," Henry asked.

  "I don't know for sure, but I do know that growing up in a small town can be suffocating," she explained. "We were always crashing other small towns or inviting people to Gable. We just wanted to spark some entertainment with new and different personalities
. The entire school had about two hundred students when I graduated."

  "That's pretty small," Henry agreed. "My graduating class was bigger than your entire high school."

  "Wow!" Claire exclaimed.

  "What?"

  "You kinda-sorta told me something personal," she said. Henry smiled.

  "Oops."

  The evening went on with nothing eventful happening. Chum and Eddie would roar with laughter or disagreement on occasion, but it never amounted to anything serious. No one else seemed concerned about their activities, including Claire. Every once in a while, someone would ask Henry a question about his past. He would proceed by dodging an actual answer, but everyone remained cordial with him. Most didn't catch on or mind that he was changing the subject on them. Henry knew the easiest thing to do was ask them about themselves or their children. Of course, he didn't really care what they had to say in response. This was survival.

  Henry could tell, however, that Claire was aware of what he was doing. If the two of them were going to continue seeing each other on any level, he was going to have to get his story straight soon.

  By ten thirty the party had died down to just six people. Remaining in the house were Chum and Maddison, Henry and Claire, Eddie, and Chum's accountant Marty. Marty was a nerdy looking guy who reminded Henry of Montgomery Burns from the television show The Simpsons.

  With so few people left, the party had gotten much quieter. Henry was beginning to think about calling it a night himself when Chum disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a shotgun. Eddie immediately saw the firearm and let out a wail full of excitement.

  "Yes, baby! Let the games begin!" he shouted with a fist pump and darted out the front door.

  Chum followed Eddie and slapped Henry on the arm as he passed.

  "Come on, Henry!" he said. "The night is still young! Don't you just feel like shooting something, sometimes?"

  Before Henry had a chance to answer, Chum disappeared through the front door. Henry turned to Maddison and Claire.

  "What's this all about?" he asked the ladies, figuring one of them would have an idea.

  "I think they're going shooting out front," Maddison explained. She spoke as though it wasn't unusual; just another day in the life of the Chumanskys. Even if she objected, Henry doubted she would ever say anything.

  He looked at Claire and then back at Maddison. Marty, the accountant, was rubbing one of his temples.

  "In the dark?" Henry asked.

  At that moment, everyone in the house jumped as a gunshot exploded from the front lawn, interrupting the conversation.

  VII

  The group of six gathered just outside the front door of the Chumansky house. With the help of several floodlights, Eddie and Chum took turns shooting clay pigeons in the dark of the night. The sight of the clay discs floating through the late evening sky reminded Henry of a nighttime baseball game.

  While Maddison spoke with Marty on the front steps, Henry and Claire sat in lounge chairs near the garage behind the shooting.

  "The electronics business seems to have treated Chum well," Henry observed. "Nice, custom built house with brand new furniture, lots of land..."

  "That's for sure," Claire said. "To me he lives the life of a billionaire."

  "What keeps you here?" Henry inquired.

  "I guess it's familiarity. Gable is all I've ever known. I've worked at Stubby's for sixteen years."

  "Sixteen years?"

  "Since I was nine," she said, pausing for a beat before continuing. "Stubby was my uncle," she explained. "He was my dad's big brother."

  "I see," Henry said. He thought it was interesting she hadn't mentioned this before.

  "I like it here, I guess. I still live at home for crying out loud," she continued.

  "You get along with your parents?" Henry asked.

  "My dad died three years ago," Claire said. "Heart attack."

  "I'm sorry," Henry replied.

  A shout interrupted their conversation.

  "Hey, Henry! Get your ass over here and take a few shots!" Chum hollered.

  Henry stood up and stretched his legs. "I'm not much of a sharpshooter."

  "Good. Then you'll make us look better," Eddie said. He handed the gun to Henry who looked at it as if it were from another galaxy.

  "I wasn't kidding. I'm not a gun-guy," he reiterated.

  Chum stepped between his tenant and his sales guy and gave Henry a quick thirty-second tutorial. Eddie stood off to the side and loaded the manual clay pigeon thrower.

  "Call 'pull' when you're ready," Chum told him. Henry took a couple of deep breaths and held the gun up, aiming into the dark sky.

  "Pull!" Henry said with authority. Eddie flung the disc of clay as far as he could into the air above the field. For a moment Henry lost sight of it. When he found it again he did his best to line the barrel up and pulled the trigger. Simultaneously, he felt the kick of the gun drive into his shoulder and heard the crack of gunfire. The clay pigeon made a soft "thud" as it landed in the grassy field, unharmed.

  "I told you I wasn't any good," Henry said, glancing first at Chum and then turning around and shrugging at Claire. She covered her mouth as if to hide her laughter.

  "Those things cost me almost a quarter apiece, Henry," Chum joked. "You better not miss too many more!"

  "I'd go out there and bring it back but I don't trust Eddie not to cap me," Henry retorted.

  "Don't worry, he'd miss you," Chum joked again.

  Fast Eddie snorted.

  "You're so sure of that, you wanna run out there yourself?" he asked his friend and boss while putting out a cigarette on the driveway cement with his boot.

  "Tell you what," Chum said, taking the gun from Henry, "I'd hate for you to accidentally kill me. I've got a better idea. A safer one."

  Maddison's attention moved to her husband.

  "I'm listening," said Eddie, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

  "I'll step out twenty-five yards or so, holding a pigeon in the thrower," Chum explained. "I'll extend my arm with the thrower, exposing the pigeon as your target."

  "So, you're gonna hold my target," Eddie confirmed.

  "It's a nineteen inch margin for error, give or take," Chum said.

  "You're on, hotshot," Eddie said, handing Chum the thrower and grabbing the shotgun.

  "Tom, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Maddison shouted as she walked down the front steps and headed for her husband. Chum ignored her.

  "One thing, though," Chum added, "if I let you do it, you have to let me do it."

  "As long as I get to go first," Eddie agreed. "That way when you shoot me I'll at least have the satisfaction of knowing I beat you."

  "Deal!" Chum said. He bent over and grabbed a clay pigeon and put it in the thrower. By now Maddison had made her way over to him. Henry moved back to his chair next to Claire.

  "Have you two jackasses lost your minds!?" she protested.

  Chum threw up his arms. "What?" he said. "It's not like we're having Henry shoot—no offense, Henry. Ed and I are both good shots."

  "Good shots who've been drinking for four hours," Maddison added sharply.

  "Nineteen inches, Maddie!" Chum bellowed.

  "Yeah, at worst I'm only a couple of millimeters drunk right now," Eddie chimed in. Chum laughed. Even Henry thought that was pretty funny.

  "You guys are making jokes now but what's gonna happen when one of you ends up hurt or...worse?" Maddison pleaded.

  "We already have an experienced hero here." Chum pointed at Henry.

  Good Lord, Henry thought. When's this "hero" garbage going to end? May as well play along.

  "I'm not doing mouth-to-mouth, just so you know," Henry said. Claire smacked him on the arm.

  "You're egging them on?" she asked him.

  "Those two don't need any help. I'm just the peanut gallery," Henry explained.

  By now, Maddison had given up talking sense into either one of them. She walked behind the two men to
where Henry and Claire sat. Marty had also wandered over. The four of them stood and watched Eddie and Chum prepare for their circus act.

  Chum walked into the front yard and turned around at about twenty yards.

  "Go back a little more," Eddie told him. "I need some more distance between me and the target."

  Chum took five more steps back, stopped, and spoke. "I'm not going back anymore. Your trajectory might get all jacked up."

  "Trajectory shmajectory," Eddie said. "Stick that puppy out there. Let's do this!"

  Chum held his right arm out to the side, the thrower in his hand. The clay pigeon sat in the holder, awaiting its fate.

  "I can't watch," Maddison said, putting her hands over her face but peeking between her fingers.

  Henry figured the chances of Chum being hit, at least with Eddie shooting, were slim. The drama was much ado about nothing. Nineteen inches left plenty of room to make a mistake. Eddie was, from what Henry had witnessed in the last hour, a good shot. Still, the idea of something going wrong was intensifying the atmosphere. Claire had grabbed on to Henry's forearm with a grip strong enough to stop the blood flow to his hand and fingers. Maddison continued to cover her eyes and peer between her fingers. Marty was cringing with his head turned sideways, watching with one squinty eye. Henry, on the other hand, was treating this demonstration like a NASCAR race. Chances of a crash were slim, but the possibility of one happening is the only reason anyone watches.

  "Hold it steady," Fast Eddie ordered his boss. He raised the gun and began to aim. Chum continued to hold his arm out and did not seem to move an inch. He didn't even look nervous. Henry wasn't sure if that was because he was half in the bag or just a little bit crazy.

  As fast as he raised it and aimed, Eddie fired the shotgun. The clay pigeon shattered instantly. Chum staggered a little from the momentum of the bullet’s impact.

  "Score," Eddie declared coolly, pulling the gun back down.

  "My turn," Chum said as he strolled back to the group.

  "You sound like a child," Maddison told him.

  "I'm just a kid at heart, baby," Chum replied. He walked up to her, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and walked back over to Eddie.