Little White Lies

by Paul Watkins

  “As far as ‘stations in life’ are concerned, that’s all nonsense. I like the fact that you work. So many of the people I know do not work or have never worked. At least they have never worked at anything worthwhile. My father always worked… he loved his work. I don’t think in terms of social structure. I’m not suggesting anything, but whatever happens between people, happens. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I knew I would feel a little foolish after I made that comment out there,” I reply. “The only thing different is that I feel foolish now rather than later. Talking about relationships at this stage is an absurdity… I’ve known you for all of a half a day.”

  “How about this,” she offers. “Suppose we just start over. I told you I get lonely and I like company. Would you be a friend? Could we just talk from time to time?”

  “To friends,” I say, raising my glass. “One cannot have too many best friends.”

  “Now you’re making fun of me,” she says with a mock pout.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” I counter. “I was just trying to make light of a situation that’s gaining too much weight. Like you said before, whatever happens… happens.”

  I take another sip of my wine and prepare to stand.

  “What’s going to happen now is, I’m going to depart. I have to get an early start tomorrow. There’s a lot of paper work, and road work, and work-work … you know how it goes.”

  “What’s road work?” she asks. “You mean running? Are you a runner?”

  “I run, but I wouldn’t consider myself a runner. I try to exercise every day in one way or another. I have to do it early though… I have too much to do during the day, so if I don’t get my run in early, it might not get done.”

  “I run, too,” she replies with excitement in her voice. “Maybe we could run together sometime. I could meet you halfway or something. I would love to have company.”

  “Okay with me. I leave the house at six and run for about half an hour… sometimes a little longer.”

  She leans back on the sofa and groans, holding the back of her hand to her forehead, an act that would do Camille proud.

  “It doesn’t have to be tomorrow,” I add. “We can do it anytime.”

  “Okay,” she replies in a weary tone, “but first you’re going to sit down and finish your drink and tell me what has been going on here for the last two years.”

  I’m not sure how this fits in with my early start, but I don’t need a lot of encouragement to spend more time with her. I can only account for the last year or so, but I tell her what I know and in an hour I’m ready to leave once again. She walks me to the front door where she shakes my hand and says goodnight.

  Jennifer is different from Karen in every way. Anyone would agree with me in that regard, I’m sure.

  Then why does she remind me of Karen? Practically everything she says… everything she does makes me think of Karen, but why? Perhaps it’s simply that any woman would make me think of Karen right now. After all, it’s not as though I have to make a decision, a choice between the two of them. I haven’t heard anything more from Karen for quite a while now and I don’t expect to at this point. It probably has more to do with the fact that Jennifer is such an appealing woman and I think I should be more attracted to her than I am.

  Whatever the reason, Jennifer has the right idea. We can be good friends without the inevitable romance and all that other stuff. Right now all I want to do is work and stay away from relationships, intrigue, misunderstandings, he said, she said, you said… ‘nuff said.

  A great philosopher I met in a poolroom one day during my long-ago youth once said, ‘all women are crazy, which explains why we’re nuts about ‘em’. Funny… the things that stay with you.

  CHAPTER 21

  The weeks are going by so quickly it seems the only way to catch up is to look at the calendar and review what has happened and wonder where all the time went. Our days are filled with meetings of every sort covering the range of A.J.’s rapidly expanding business empire.

  There’s a ten or twelve hour period in some days that seems like one continuous telephone call. The restaurants are mostly building plans, searching for sites and the occasional manager or personnel-type problem, while the show business side of things involves corporate sponsorship liaisons and periodic concert arrangements. It all makes for a busy schedule.

  Jennifer has become a regular around here and she and Sheri spend a lot of time together. Sheri constantly seeks Jennifer’s advice where art and decorating are involved. Jennifer’s background is perfect for this task and it turns out her taste is almost identical to Sheri’s in many areas.

  On occasion Jennifer and I manage to bump into one another on our morning runs. There isn’t much talking at that hour, but it’s nice to have company once in a while. There have been several dinners back and forth in addition to numerous spur of the moment ‘let’s get together and have a drink and catch a bite’ happenings. I’m always included in these gatherings, which makes for a nice interlude since I really don’thave anything else I would rather do with my free time. Jennifer and I have not been a couple during these events and I have found no reason to read anything into the frequency of the contact. On those occasions when Jennifer calls, the subject usually has something to do with her house or property… once in a while she might call just to talk, but not often.

  I’m not sure who gets more out of these conversations and social gatherings. I don’t feel lonely because I don’t have time for that kind of feeling to set in. Or maybe I don’t get lonely because Jennifer is always around at just the right time. She brings a balance to my existence that is welcome and if I am honest with myself, I certainly value her presence and her friendship. Heck, any man who wouldn’t want Jennifer around should spend some serious time in the examining room where they look for a physical reason to explain a mental deficiency.

  Karen wrote last week and I received her letter today. She apologized for not writing more. She said she has been very busy trying to finish off her article. Apparently it is turning into more of a project than anyone had anticipated. Her employers are now insisting she extend her time there once more… at least another four or five weeks. She says she’s anxious to come home, but there’s little she can do about it. There are too many people to please and no matter how many times she rewrites certain sections, someone doesn’t like it or wants to change it still again.

  This family, she says, is large, prominent and very image conscious. Publishing an article is more a public relations concern than just an article in a magazine and they approach the project in much the same manner as would a corporation. In fact that’s exactly what they are in every respect… a corporation. Their ties to the various governments in Europe as well as many of the large corporations and financial institutions make this article more than something light and airy for the casual reader, although that’s the way they would like it to appear. She goes on to say she misses everybody, and can’t wait to get home and see her old friends again, etc., etc.

  I’m not surprised she’s staying longer, but I’m curious as to why she bothers to keep me up to speed on all the give and take of the project. I suppose I have an interest on some level, but I guess I would rather just let it go. We are both committed to our separate ways and most of the pain is behind me now and I would just as soon leave it that way.

  I suspect Karen is very involved with the subjects of her new article or book in much the same way she became involved with the Jacksons when she did their article, only more so. I don’t think she becomes involved in a manipulative sense. It’s probably a natural by-product of the way she works and gets to know the people she writes about… all the ingredients that spell success. Whatever the reason, Karen has taken a different road and I continue to wish her well. I just wish I didn’t have these constant reminders that keep renewing memories I would jus
t as soon let go.

  A.J.’s back in town for a short spell and the long-awaited meeting with Monte James is finally going to happen. I don’t particularly care one way or the other, but A.J. wants to get it over with. The meeting is set for this morning at eleven and Monte is ten minutes early. He walks into the library and I rise to greet him since we have never met. He ignores my presence and walks directly to the bar.

  “I’ll just help myself, boys,” he declares, taking a glass and selecting a bottle of whiskey.

  “Make yourself at home, Monte,” A.J. says sarcastically.

  “I will… don’t worry,” Monte replies without rancor.

  His drink poured, he saunters over to the desk where A.J. is seated.

  “This is Philip Richards,” A.J. says by way of introduction.

  “I assumed as much,” Monte replies, taking a seat and continuing to ignore me.

  A.J. notices Monte’s somewhat rude behavior and is obviously taking a slow burn. The tension in the room is palpable and any period of silence seems to provide fertile ground to accelerate it still further.

  “This is your meeting, Monte,” A.J. declares. “We have a lot going on, so let’s not waste time.”

  I’m amused, but I try not to show it. A.J. can be a real ball-buster and he shows no patience with Monte’s antics so far. I watch Monte arrange himself in his chair with exaggerated care, taking time to get everything just right.

  He’s shorter than A.J., but much heavier. I would say he’s a little over two hundred pounds and at least three or four inches shorter… and it’s all muscle. His clothes are casual but tailored to show his trim figure to its best advantage. Looks like a tough customer who is not only ready, but very willing, too. His hair is close cropped with the part-line razor cut according to current fashion dictates.

  An interesting specimen and one who is a little different from what I expected. I had imagined someone who was probably a little more bookish… no particular reason, just one of those things we all do from time to time… speculate about people we have heard about, but never met. This guy is far from bookish… thugish, I can buy, but not bookish.

  “Well, A.J., as I told you in Chicago,” he begins, meeting A.J.’s direct gaze with one of his own, “I’m ready to come back and do my job. We had a little misunderstanding, but I’m sure we can work it all out. I wanted your new man to be here so we can make things clear from the beginning.”

  He turns and looks at me for the first time.

  “You would work for me, if I decide to keep you around.”

  His gaze is steady and I imagine intimidating to some. It’s not my place to say anything at this point, so I don’t bother. A.J. watches Monte and remains calm. If anything, he appears somewhat amused. No tellingwhat A.J. is going to say to this, but I imagine it won’t be exactly what Monte wants to hear.

  “I will get things organized around here,” he continues, “put the brothers back in charge. I understand you have a big security staff now. A.J., let’s face it… this kind of thing isn’t exactly your strong suit. You never liked all the work behind the scenes. You know I always handled it right and I’ll handle it right again. I’ve kept in touch and I want you to know I think it’s a damn shame what you have let this man do behind your back.”

  ‘This man’ refers to me, I guess, but Monte doesn’t bother going any farther with the identification other than a slight nod in my direction.

  “Look, Monte,” A.J. begins, “if all you’re going to do is take cheap shots, then we might as well call it a day. I didn’t want to have this meeting at all, but Phil said we should let you have your say. Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve said it. I don’t have time for this shit. For you, of all people, to talk about someone taking advantage of me, doing things behind my back… all I can say is, whew, you have some major balls, man.”

  Monte smiles and waits for A.J. to finish. I’m sure these two have never minced words when communicating with one another in the past and they’re sure as hell not doing it now.

  “It’s the old story, A.J.,” Monte continues. “White man has the nigger working for him. This guy (I get another tilt of the head) is in charge and you’re doing all the work. He’s brought all kinds of people in here and you don’t know any of them. Who do you trust? A brother you have known all your life or whitey here, who walks in and takes over? You had better watch yourself, boy!”

  A.J. laughs.

  “Forget it, Monte. I’m not going to debate this thing with you. I don’t expect you to agree with me… don’t care one way or the other when you come down to it. I don’t hate you… you can’t help yourself. I could never turn my back on you after what happened between us. I don’t have that kind of problem now and I don’t want it again. You’re right, some of the new people aren’t brothers, but so far none of them have put their hands in my pocket. Don’t try playing the race card, Monte. I believed that stuff once and all it got me was a pack of trouble. Good people, bad people… they seem to come in all colors. It took me a while, but I think I’m coming to understand that part pretty well.”

  A.J. pauses, waiting for an argument on the rather obvious point he has just made, but Monte makes no effort to rise to the bait.

  “I wish you the best of luck,” A.J. continues. “If you want to stay in touch… fine, but you will never work here again. I’d say you can take that to the bank, but I’m afraid you’ve taken too much of mine to the bank already… if you know what I mean.”

  He may be kidding, but he isn’t smiling at his last joke.

  “Well, you’ll be sorry for that decision, A.J.,” Monte smiles and then pauses, “but it might take a little time.

  You know me well enough to know I don’t take a screwing lightly. There’ll be a payback.”

  “Don’t get goin’ in that direction, hotshot. I don’t want to have to throw your ass out of here.”

  Monte pushes his chair back and I follow suit.

  “I’ll see myself out, asshole,” he growls in my direction, finally acknowledging my presence with a direct look.

  I’m pleased, even if it is a glare, although I don’t especially care for the asshole moniker.

  “It’s okay, I’m going that way anyway,” I reply amiably. “Awfully nice to meet you.”

  In the finer schools I attended we were instructed to say that instead of ‘fuck you’.

  It’s all in the tone of voice. The actual words don’t really matter. I follow a couple of steps behind Monte when A.J. calls to me.

  “Phil, can I see you later…”

  Turning in response to the question, I’m about to reply when I see A.J.’s eyes grow wide… and that’s all I remember. I wasn’t down for very long, but long enough for Monte to clear out. A.J. is at my side as his face comes into focus. At first I don’t feel anything, but then the pain at the base of my neck makes itself known. He dropped me like a stone, only a stone would feel a little bit better than I do right now.

  “Don’t move,” A.J. admonishes. “You could be hurt worse than you know. The sonofabitch nailed you good!”

  I slowly move my hands and turn my head slightly. There’s no tingling sensation or other problems except for the pain. He knew what he was doing, I’ll give him that much. I push myself up from the floor slowly… I feel more embarrassed than hurt. God damn! How could I have been so stupid?

  Never underestimate your enemy… and he is now an enemy… and he has underestimated me. I’m sure Monte thinks this is the end of it, but he’s wrong. Nowit will be over when I say it’s over.

  ***

  A.J. and Sheri insist I have dinner with them. I told A.J. I would rather lay low tonight, but he won’t listen… I think he feels a little guilty about this morning. He shouldn’t. As far as I’m concerned, what happened was entirely my fault. Admittedly, I didn’t realize I was deal
ing with a crazy at the time, but I do now and it won’t happen again.

  Monte’s attack tells me a great deal about him. His violence is more an outpouring of incredible anger and hatred than anything else. He’s used to settling his disagreements with his fists and if he can’t accomplish anything else he will at least punish the other person. Well he sure as hell accomplished his mission with me. I’m so frustrated I can hardly talk about it. I let that jerk in here, knowing what he’s about, and still I let him nail me! My pain is well deserved… serves me right.

  We decided it would be best to keep all this from Sheri. It would cause her needless worry and there’s no reason for that now. It’s early, but a drink is definitely in order. I’m not going to have any alcohol,even wine, until this headache clears up. I don’t need any other reasons for an aching head right now. Advil makes me feel better, but it isn’t doing much for my ego at the moment. I’m not sure anything would help in that department except time.

  Their wine and my water is no sooner poured than we are informed of the presence of one Jennifer Benson on her way up the drive. Jennifer’s in and out so often I would never give it a second thought, but Sheri seems a bit discomfited for some reason. She’s often restless before A.J. takes off on one of his jaunts, but he’s not leaving for a couple of days yet.

  “I’m sorry, I should have called,” Jennifer announces gaily as she enters the library. “I was on my way home and I thought I would take a chance and see if you guys were in. Anything for the weary shopper?”

  “Name your poison,” A.J. remarks, walking to the bar. “Since I’m the only really good bartender in the room, I will see to it that you have the best. Nothing but top shelf for you, my dear.”

  “Wine would be fine, A.J.,” Jennifer says plunking herself down next to me. “White, please.”

  She looks at me, smiles and gives me a little shove.

  “How’re you doing, Philip? I haven’t seen you in a while.”