by Donald Wells
Some parties will be unforgiving; to these we recommend the direct approach.
Derek looks down and sees that the rumors are true. Lindsay is just beginning to show.
“Jason can’t give you the life I can, forget him, marry me.”
“What?”
“Marry me. I’ll be President someday and I can give you things Jason can’t. I want you back and I… I promise I won’t cheat again, I love you Lindsay. Marry me.”
When using audacious tactics, strike, and then pause, the person you’re wishing to influence will give clues as to the effectiveness of your persuasion, by their next words or actions.
The slap nearly knocks him to the floor.
Derek hears a ringing inside his head and so misses the first few words, but as the ringing clears, he can make out every syllable Lindsay says.
“…ucking mind to think I would ever have anything to do with you again, and you have the nerve to say you love me? You don’t even know what love is, do you? All you ever think about is becoming President. Why Derek? Is it the power? Do you need to control people the way Charlotte controls you? That’s what the rape was about, control. You can’t stand it that I love Jason instead of you, you’re pathetic. Get out!”
If disaster should strike and negotiations end badly, endeavor to get the last word in.
“That’s my baby you’re carrying Lindsay and every time Jason looks at it he’ll see me looking back. You two will never last.”
Lindsay holds the door open, waiting. Derek grins, and satisfied at having the last word, he walks out. He’s sauntering away when Lindsay calls softly from the doorway.
“Derek,”
He walks back to stand before her with a gleam of hope in his eyes.
“Yes?”
“If I believed for a fact that this child was yours I’d have had it aborted. I won’t tell Jason you came by, he would kill you. Come back and I might kill you. Stay away from me!”
Lindsay slams the door in his face with such force that Derek blinks against the breeze. He trudges back to his car and drives away.
There are times when try as we might with all the tools and ingenuity at our disposal, that things just do not go our way.
At these times, we must stay strong and regroup.
Perhaps a reevaluation of our desired goal is in order. Is the prize sought really as valuable as we presumed? If the undeniable conclusion is yes, then we must start making long-term preparations to persuade the enemy to our side, perhaps with the passing of time we will—
The book hits the street, slides into the gutter, and is gone.
* * *
Jason enters his house through the backdoor and finds his parents sitting at the kitchen table. He stands in the doorway, hesitant to enter, sensing by the expressions on their faces that he’s interrupted a serious conversation. He closes the door and heads for the back staircase.
“I’ll be in my room.”
His father calls him over and gestures for him to sit down at the table. His mother then reaches over and takes his hand.
“Your father and I have been discussing you and Lindsay.”
“What about us?”
“We want to help you two. Now I know that you’ve always wanted to be an artist, and you will be, someday, but honey right now you’re about to become a husband and father, and to take care of them you’ll need a good job.”
“I know that mom, and I’ve already started looking.”
Marjorie squeezes his hand. “Well you can stop looking, as soon as you graduate you’ll go to work for your dad, it’s past time that you started learning the family business.”
Jason removes his hand from his mother’s. “I don’t want to learn the family business. I want to be an artist.”
“And you will be honey, but for now you’ll learn the construction business, after all, someday your father will pass it on to you.”
Jason looks over at his father. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but dad I don’t want to go to work for you.”
“Nonsense,” Marjorie says. “Jason you’ll need a job and the best thing would be—”
Adam interrupts. “Marjorie, let me talk to Jason alone.”
“But—” Marjorie begins to protest.
“Please hon?”
Marjorie stands. “All right, but Jason you and I will talk again later,”
“Okay mom.”
Marjorie kisses Jason on the cheek and after sending Adam a look, she leaves the kitchen.
Adam takes a sip of coffee while staring at Jason over the rim, when he puts the cup down he smiles.
“Did you know that my mother was an artist?”
Jason shakes his head no, surprised by his father’s question and unable to remember ever hearing his father talk about his mother, who died when Adam was only sixteen.
“I’ve always believed that you got your talent from her, lord knows no one else in the family can draw a lick.”
Jason says nothing, letting his father talk on.
“I can still remember the look of bliss on her face when she was working on a painting. I’ve seen that same expression on you at times. Tell me something, do you love it, painting I mean?”
“Dad, when I’m painting I feel, I don’t know… right?”
Adam nods his head knowingly. “That’s why you don’t want to go to work at Reynolds, isn’t it? You’re afraid that you’ll never get back to your art.”
Jason stares at his father, shocked by his insight. “Yes.”
“Then what are your plans?”
“I’ll find work somewhere else, I’ll make enough to pay for the wedding and also enough so Lindsay and I can get an apartment after the baby’s born.”
“And what about being an artist?”
“I’ll find work as an artist when I can, after Lindsay and I are settled I’m going to look for work as a commercial artist, maybe something in advertising.”
Adam swirls the coffee in his cup. “Is that what you want to be, a commercial artist?”
Jason’s face turns serious. “I want to be the next Rembrandt.”
Adam grins, “That’s my boy.”
They sit quietly for a few moments, and then Adam rises and places his cup in the sink. He turns and leans with his back against the counter.
“I’ll talk to mom, but listen, if you need anything just ask, it’s good to be independent but you’ll soon have a family to support and lord knows your mother and I have more than enough money.”
Jason walks over and shakes Adam’s hand. “I’ll remember that dad, and thanks,” He turns to leave the room, but at the threshold he looks back at his father. “Hey dad, what did you want to do when you were my age?”
Adam smiles, “I’m already doing it, I’ve always loved the construction business the way you love art.”
“We’re lucky aren’t we? I mean, most people don’t know what they want to do.”
Adam puts an arm around Jason’s shoulders, as they walk out of the room together.
“That’s not luck son, it’s a blessing.”
16
High school graduation came and went with Lindsay barely showing, but now, in late September, she is as Jason puts it, “Extremely in a family way,” She’s seven months pregnant and as big as a Buick.
Jason takes any and all work he can get and it’s wearing on him. During the day he drives a delivery van, while at night he stocks shelves at a supermarket. In between, he mows lawns and takes any odd jobs that come along. He’s bone-weary most of the time but Lindsay’s obstetrician, Dr. Trent, is getting paid, and the maternity clothes are being bought. The doctor also requires Lindsay to take an expensive prenatal vitamin formula. If Jason can keep up this pace until November, he and Lindsay will have enough money to get an apartment, furnish it, and still be able to afford a small, but nice wedding… if he’s still alive.
“Boomer wake up.” Lindsay says.
“Wh… what? I’m only resting my eyes.” Jason
mumbles.
“Quit this night job, it’s killing you, and you need to sleep sometime.”
They’re in her parents’ living room. Jason came by to see her on his way to work and after sitting down, he fell asleep in mid-sentence.
“Lindsay we need the money, just a few more weeks of this and then I can quit one job.”
“I know, but I hardly ever get to see you.”
“I miss you too, and I think about the baby all day long. It’s funny to be so in love with someone and not know what they look like.”
“Oh, Jason I—ah ha she’s kicking. Every time she hears your voice she moves around, she’s going to be a daddy’s girl for sure.”
Jason places his hand on Lindsay’s stomach and feels the baby kick.
“Hi sweetie, it’s daddy. How are things in there, getting tight? Don’t worry, there’s a whole world out here waiting for you, and a mommy and daddy who love you more than anything.”
“Boomer you’re going to spoil her rotten aren’t you?”
Jason stands up and stretches. “Damn straight.”
“I wish Simone would let us name the baby after her.”
“Well, we’ll just have to do the next best thing right?”
“Right,” Lindsay says.
He bends and kisses her goodbye. “I gotta go or I’ll be late. I love you.”
“I love you too, daddy.”
“Daddy,” Jason says, and suddenly he looks less tired.
* * *
Charlotte sits at her throne, otherwise known as her chair, behind the oak desk in her vast, wood paneled office. Seated across from her are McGee, and Derek, who is home from college. Charlotte is not a happy woman.
“I see Miss Parker is having a baby soon, will this cost me money or cause scandal?”
“No mother, Lindsay is convinced the baby is Jason’s, she’s wrong though, it’s mine.”
“Kid, you’re a machine. If that baby is yours, that makes it what, the third knock-up in a year? That’s an expensive habit.”
“McGee please cut the vulgarity, and Derek, you have to learn to control your libido or it will destroy you. I know it’s not easy, but it can be done.”
“The way you’ve done it mother?” Derek says, a challenging look in his eye.
Charlotte glares at Derek. He’s been more defiant since he took that beating, something else to thank Mr. Reynolds for.
“It is a tried and true method dear, passed down from generation to generation. Do not discard it.”
McGee looks from one to the other, confused. Sometimes they talk right in front of me and I’ll be damned if I know what they’re saying, but for some reason, it gives me the willies.
“Has Reynolds accepted the baby as his own?” Charlotte asks.
McGee speaks up, happy to be part of a conversation he can understand.
“Reynolds must think the baby’s his, he and the Parker girl are planning to get married.”
Charlotte leans back in her chair for a time, quiet, thinking.
“It’s heartwarming; perhaps we can help them along toward marital bliss. Derek, I seem to recall Emily saying something about a mural Mr. Reynolds painted for which he won a giant bear or some such nonsense.”
“Oh yeah, the mural at the mall, Lindsay passed that story around last Christmas as if he had painted the damn Sistine Chapel ceiling.”
“If he thinks he’s an artist, then, we’ll let him be an artist.”
“What do you mean mother?”
Charlotte makes a dismissive gesture. “Don’t concern yourself dear. Mother needs to work out the details first… but I think it might work.”
“Do whatever you want to Jason, but leave Lindsay alone, please?”
“She threatened to send you to prison and take you away from me; she’s going to pay for that. In fact, McGee see to that other matter; tell our friend I will double my offer.”
McGee arches an eyebrow. “Double? That should do it.”
Derek watches McGee leave and then turns to Charlotte.
“What are you up to mother?”
“The perfect revenge dear, but as McGee is fond of saying, ‘It’ll take patience.”
* * *
Sunday October 10th, 1982 dawns a gorgeous fall day. It also dawns a rare day for Jason, It’s the first work free day he’s had in months.
Lindsay reclines in a lounge chair under a yellow beach umbrella, as Jason massages her swollen feet. They’re at the cabin, enjoying the private beach, in the distance, sailboats flash in brilliant and varied colors.
“Oh, that feels so good Boomer, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it my dear, it’s all part of the service.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to service you lately, you know?”
“Honey I’m so tired most of the time that I don’t think I’d be of much service to you.”
“Jason, do I look fat?”
He looks over at her and laughs. “Humongous.”
“You were supposed to say, ‘No dear, you look fine.”
“Oops.”
“Honestly Boomer, I promise I’ll get back to my regular weight after the baby’s born, you won’t be stuck with a fat wife.”
“You think I care how much you weigh Lindsay?”
She smiles, “You know I don’t think you do, but I do.”
“How are the wedding plans coming along?”
“Great, your mom has been such a help and it was so sweet of her to tell us we could have it here at the cabin. I love it up here; it’s so peaceful and beautiful.”
“I love it here too; we’re going to have a nice wedding.”
“I only hope it’s half as nice as Angie’s was.”
“Yeah, I never saw my sister happier.” Jason says, reflecting.
“I’m glad you didn’t take money from your parents, it wouldn’t have been right. If we’re old enough to have a baby, we’re old enough to pay for our own lives.”
Jason kisses Lindsay’s big toe. “I got me a smart woman.”
“And I got me a hard working man.”
“And baby makes three.” Jason says.
* * *
When Jason returns home there’s a message from a Mr. Callen on his answering machine.
“Hi, I’m hoping I’ve reached Jason Reynolds, the artist who painted the mural in the toy store? Well, if this is he, please give me a call at 915-1974 any time after 9:00 a.m. weekdays. Just ask for Bill Callen. This could be very profitable for you, thanks.” BEEP
I wonder what he meant by very profitable.
The next morning, while making deliveries, Jason stops at a phone booth to return the call. Mr. Callen won’t go into details on the phone but he and Jason arrange to meet later that night.
* * *
At the mall, Jason knocks on the door of Callen’s Hobbies.
From the backroom someone calls out, “Hold on I’m coming.”
Seconds later, a man appears and looks through the glass door, he’s about sixty, with gray hair and a slight build, he wears dark slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“Reynolds?”
“Hi, Mr. Callen? I’m Jason Reynolds.”
“Hold on, let me unlock that door for you.”
The moment the door opens, Jason is assailed by the odor of cigarette smoke, the shop is full of it. As he offers his hand, Callen smiles and Jason spies teeth the color of ripe bananas.
Jason looks around the crowded shop and notices that model trains seem to make up a large quantity of the inventory, he follows Callen into a small office and they sit.
“That mural in the toy store is a masterpiece, you really have talent.”
“Thank you Mr. Callen.”
“I was wondering if you could do the same thing with my hobby stores.”
“I would love that. I enjoyed painting the other mural very much.”
Callen lights up a cigarette. “Then let’s talk business.”
* * *
>
Jason arrives at Lindsay’s, full of good news. He’s struck a deal with Callen to paint four murals. They lie atop her bed while discussing it.
“Jason that’s so great, does it pay well?”
“It sure does. A thousand a store, four thousand dollars, honey we can start apartment shopping now.”
“That’s so much money. Does this mean you can quit that horrible supermarket job?”
“I’ve already quit both jobs; they just don’t know it yet.”
“I’m glad, you were always so tired, but will this job have normal hours?”
“The contract says that all four murals in four different malls have to be done by 6 P.M. on the 20th of November, that’s also when I get paid.”
“That’s the week the baby’s due, what a great week.”
Jason caresses Lindsay’s stomach. “After I paint the murals I’ll be out of work, but I’m going to try and make a living as an artist whenever I can, I love it so much.”
“Whatever you want to do is fine. I trust you Jason, I really do.”
“I’m glad I’ll be able to spend more time with you. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. Stay here tonight. I want you next to me in bed.”
“Soon that’ll be every night in a place of our own.”
“Jason you make me so happy, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You my love will never have to find out, I’m yours for life.”
* * *
Mr. Callen is in his cramped office stubbing out one cigarette while lighting another. He looks at the contract Jason signed and shakes his head, sighing. He then takes a card out of his wallet and dials the number on the back, a number belonging to Charlotte Stern.
“It’s Callen, Reynolds signed the contract. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes Mr. Callen we have a deal.”
“Can we sign the new leases? I could come by tomorrow.”
“That will be fine. Don’t forget to bring the contract.”
“Just have that certified check ready. I won’t do this unless the kid has a real chance.”
“I don’t care about the money; just make sure you don’t warn him ahead of time.”
“I won’t, but you know it’s really a shame, the kid is unbelievably talented.”
“I am truly hoping that is the case.”
