by Nathan Roden
“Wait,” Babe said. “Time-Out Jack? What is—”
“Don’t listen to a thing this overgrown orangutan says,” Jack interrupted.
“Wait, I thought I was a gorilla,” Jordan said. “You’ve left me in a state of primate confusion, Jack.”
“That’s the same state I found you in years ago, you mutated chimpanzee,” Jack said.
Jack briefly gave Jordan a cold stare before he went on.
“I figured that Mary Alice was my girlfriend now, and I was able to pry enough information from some of the older boys about what to do next. I tried everything I could think of to get in Mary Alice’s pants but it just wasn’t happening. And she wasn’t kidding about it either. I mean, there was no way. I never got further than the consolation prize.”
“Consolation prize?” Babe asked. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s that?”
“Yeah, Jack? What are you talking about?” Jordan said.
“Mary Alice’s parents tried many times to have a son but they stopped at five daughters—five daughters who grew up on their father’s little dairy farm. And sometimes the milking machines would break down…”
Jordan had been waiting for this line and he almost fell off his chair. Babe was holding his side and laughing, hoping that Lewis and Leo were not getting ready to ask them to leave.
Jordan tried hard to regain his composure.
“But, Jack. Jack. Pray tell, why haven’t you ever looked up Mary Alice? Because she’s married?”
“No, because she’s Mother Superior Sister Mary Alice, that’s why. Asshole.”
Jordan had his head down on his arm on top of the table while Babe held both hands over his mouth.
“And every night Mary Alice prays, ‘Thank you Lord, for making Bill Clinton the President’.”
Jordan and Babe ran for the front door.
Babe and Jordan walked back in shortly after kickoff to a few odd stares. They made it to halftime without further incident.
The crowd lined up at the bar and the restrooms at the beginning of halftime. Millie walked up to Babe and whispered, “Bradley wants to leave. He’s being an asshole and he won’t shut up about Jack’s gun and he’s practically demanding that I tell him about… about work. I’m not going with him. Will you help make sure I get a cab?”
“Sure, Mil. If that’s what you want.”
Babe watched Millie walk back to the booth. She sat down and leaned over to speak to Bradley. They argued visibly for a few minutes and then Bradley stormed to his feet. He shot an angry glace toward Babe and his friends. He turned and walked out.
Millie continued to sit hunched over the table. She stared at the floor for a few moments. She slowly lifted her eyes and Babe looked away quickly. When he turned back, Millie was smiling at him. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders.
Babe waved Millie over as he stood and asked the group at a nearby table for a spare chair. As Babe held the chair for Millie he looked toward Jack and Jordan and put a finger to his lips.
Jordan recognized the situation, and Jack had a pretty good guess. There were no uncomfortable moments because as soon as Millie sat down, the Patriot’s return man fumbled the opening kickoff of the second half and gave the Steelers the ball on the New England four yard line. All four at the table leapt to their feet along with almost everyone in the room. Heard above the groans and outrage of the crowd was Millie’s yell.
“You bone-headed bastard. Jesus.”
The game was close for the remainder of four quarters. The Patriots pulled off a win four minutes into overtime amid a wall of cheers from the crowd at Momma’s. A birthday party consisting of a dozen college boys had pushed three tables together before the game and they were drinking heavily. They looked to be a group of preppies from old money and they were feeling no pain. One of them stood up and yelled.
“Fuckin’ ‘A’! Shots for the house.”
Shot glasses of tequila were distributed around the room. Babe noticed several of the college party glancing toward Millie. When a waiter reached their table he sat a shot glass in front of each of them, except for Millie. He placed five shot glasses in front of her. She caught the eye of a few of the birthday party boys and nodded toward them as she raised a shot glass and knocked it back. The dozen boys stood and gave her a standing ovation, to which she gave a mock bow. She threw back one more shot and crossed her eyes. She pushed the other three shots in front of the men at her table.
Millie fanned her reddening face and excused herself. She had an audience as she sashayed toward the ladies’ room.
Lewis and Leo opened up the jukebox for the next hour. The jukebox was stocked primarily with classic rock.
The opening notes of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” filled the room as Millie exited the lady’s room. She was still flush from the tequila shots and had removed her Patriots jersey, which she held in one of her hands above her head. She danced her way back to the table with her hair down. She had stripped down to an Alabama tank top, which appeared to be a size too small and exposed her perfect midsection.
Halfway to the table there was a loud crash followed by a second of silence and then raucous laughter. Leo had caught sight of Millie as he carried a tray full of empty bottles and glasses toward the bar, and he lost his balance. Millie turned toward the crash to see Leo smiling at her. She blew him a kiss and continued dancing back to the table. A half-dozen employees helped Leo with the mess. They teased him mercilessly and Leo became as red as the Crimson Tide.
The crowd thinned out by midnight and Jack was the first to announce the need to be coherent in the morning. Babe thought that Millie would have been willing to help close down the bar. Jordan was staying over at Jack’s for the night, as he always did when they were drinking.
There was only one taxi at the nearby stand. Millie and Babe insisted that Jack and Jordan take the first trip since Jack’s condo was close by.
Babe sat down on the bench as the taxi pulled away. He rolled his head on his neck and exhaled as he looked up into the night sky.
“Thank you so much, Babe” Millie said, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’re most welcome, Millie. I hope it doesn’t always take a fight with Bradley for you to have a good time.”
He was sorry he had said that as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Millie. That is absolutely none of my business.”
“No, you’re right. It isn’t working. You know, I dated nothing but dumbass jocks the whole time I lived in Alabama—like it was part of the State Constitution or something. You’re a cheerleader, you date jocks, you got it, Sister? After I moved here, I wanted to change everything. I told myself that someone like Bradley was what I needed.
“Do you know what most of my girlfriends are doing right now? They’re married to ex-jocks or divorced from ex-jocks and they’re squirting out little quarterbacks and cheerleaders right and left— getting fat, chain smoking, and listening to Mr. Wonder-stud relive his glory years. I thought I could remake myself—become a big-city girl with some class. But I guess you can’t take the ‘hick’ out of the ‘chick’.”
“You don’t need to change anything, Millie. You’re great. You need to lighten up on yourself,” Babe said.
“You’re sweet, Babe,” Millie said.
She sat down with her hands shoved into her coat pockets.
“Bradley has been interviewing with the Sierra club and Greenpeace, and all of those people. He wants to be a lobbyist. I’m not surprised that he hates teaching. He fucking hates everything. He organized a student club for his political science students last year. He should have called it The Hate Club because that’s all it is. He gets more radical by the day. Every time he interviews for these lobbying positions he gets angrier. I think he scares them.”
“I wish he would get a job somewhere else. It would make everything— easier.”
“There’s the taxi,” Babe said.
“Thanks again, Babe.”
“I’m glad you had a good time, Millie. We’ll see you in—” Babe looked at his watch, and winced. “A few hours.”
“I’ll make coffee and you bring the aspirin. And if you show up with goddamn donuts I’m going to turn one into a suppository, and we’re going to play doctor.”
Babe patted Millie on the cheek and said, “Do you promise, darling?”
Millie patted Babe on the cheek and said, “Goodnight, Mr. Asshole, Sir.”
Fifteen
Millie, Tom, and Babe stood with their exposed forearms side-by-side across Millie’s desk. Tom was declared the winner of the ‘tan’ competition in a landslide, as should have happened following two weeks in the tropics. Millie was given a strong second place assisted by the unseasonably warm and sunny weather at this year’s Iron Bowl, the annual meeting of rival football powerhouses Alabama and Auburn, played that year in Tuscaloosa.
“I don’t see a tan line, Millie,” Tom said, “Do Alabama girls go to football games naked? Show me a tan line or I’m moving to Alabama. Tomorrow.”
Millie pondered the question for a moment.
“I—don’t think I can.”
“A respectable third place finish, Babe,” Tom said. “From just four days in Texas?”
Babe rolled down his sleeve and reached for his jacket.
“Yeah.”
“So, how did that go?” Tom asked.
“It was awesome. My Uncle Zach and his family were there. I never realized it, but when you mix my Dad, Uncle Zach and alcohol together, that is a formula for laughing your ass off. Uncle Zach is just a big kid and he is made for the role of medieval barbarian. Everybody had costumes, which I was not expecting. They wouldn’t let me off the hook, either,” Babe said. He pulled some photographs from his jacket pocket.
Millie and Tom laughed.
“Oh, my God! Babe—are you an elf? I always wondered if you were circumcised,” Tom said.
“I’m Robin Hood, you asshole.”
Tom held the picture up close to his face, squinting.
“No. Maybe Little John.”
Babe and Tom engaged in a few moments of one of their favorite activities—an effeminate slap-fighting match.
“You know, this is precisely the reason they installed security cameras in here last week,” Millie said.
Babe and Tom halted in mid-fight and began scanning the walls and ceiling.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Millie?” Tom said as he backpedaled toward a corner.
“You’re shitting us, right?” Babe said, “Millie?”
He backed into a doorway.
“Millie. You had better be joking goddammit,” Tom said.
Millie smiled as she shook her head.
“Can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, children. Calm the fuck down. Jesus.”
“Fuck you, Vandermeer,” Tom said, pouting. ”That is not cool.”
“Not funny, Millie. Not fair,” Babe said, breathing heavily.
Tom and Babe said in unison, “Not fair. Not fair.”
“Uh, gentlemen, aside from our other adult activities, we have RSVP requests for the Bureau Christmas parties. These came late so we need to act on them today,” Millie said.
The Bureau held an official Christmas party each December, two Saturday nights before Christmas. This was known as the ‘O’, for ‘official’, and was held at a nearby community center ballroom. It was open to Bureau members and families, and strictly non-alcoholic. This party ran from seven p.m. until ten-thirty p.m.
A second Christmas party was held the same night, sponsored by a group of unnamed individuals. This party was not officially affiliated with the Bureau although the invitation list was the same. This party was held only a few blocks away from the Official party and ran from ten p.m. until about four a.m.
This party was referred to as the ‘U’, or ‘unofficial’. Taxis were sequestered to deliver attendees to and from the ‘U’, and no one was permitted to arrive in or leave in a personal vehicle.
This was the second year that Babe, Tom, and Millie received invitations. Jordan always received them because he was a former Special Agent and because of his relationship with Jack. There was some opposition to extending the invitations to the rest of the staff of Research Consultants, Inc., due to the confidential nature of the business. Russell Eckhart was vehemently opposed to the RCI’s inclusion but he gave in after learning that some of the other Agents were referring to him as Ebenezer Scrooge.
Eckhart had nothing to protest last year. Tom and Christie were out of town visiting Christie’s parents and Jill had been too ill for Babe to attend. Millie was still dealing with Bradley’s interrogations and made excuses for her absence.
“Put Christie and me down for both. She still thinks that signing that NDA makes her a ‘secret agent’, and that provides me with ‘certain benefits’ if you catch my drift,” Tom said.
“It must be quite a relief to not have to pretend that you’re the janitor in a whorehouse anymore,” Babe said.
“She never believed that one. I told her I was a staff writer for the Teletubbies,” Tom said.
“What about you, Babe?” Millie asked.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to be Jack’s date, so go ahead and RSVP me. How about you, Millie?”
“You’re kidding, right? Do you—? No. No fucking way.”
Millie put a finger to her forehead, exhaled, and momentarily buried her face in her hands. She pulled her hands away, and turned on her workstation.
“No.”
Jack picked Babe up on the way to the ‘O’ party and surprised him when he stopped in front of Millie’s apartment.
“Really?” Babe asked.
“Really,” Jack said.
”Do you want me to—”
“No, no. I’ll go get her. This is good. Great,” Babe said.
Jack opened his car door at the community center at the same time as a colleague and his wife. They took a few minutes to exchange greetings. Babe held the car door for Millie and took her hand as she exited.
“Don’t get me wrong, Millie. I’m glad you’re here, but what changed your mind?” Babe asked.
“Mr. Englemann. The same day I made our RSVPs he called me. I didn’t want to say anything about Bradley but he must have heard about him from somewhere. Like you, maybe?”
“Hey. I didn’t say a damn thing.”
“Lighten up, Babe. I was just kidding. Anyway, I didn’t want to hurt Mr. Englemann’s feelings. I know he was the one responsible for us being invited. He’s such a nice man. I wasn’t about to tell Bradley about it, so please, our little secret, huh?”
“Mums the word. Secret Agent Babelton is on the case, fair lady. And, by the way, you do looka mahvelous.”
“You’re looking somewhere north of dog shit, yourself, Mr. Babelton.”
Babe and Millie found Tom and Christie, who had just run into Jordan and Samantha. When Jack arrived he greeted several people and then started on introductions.
“God, that Eckhart is a human barbiturate,” Tom whispered to Babe.
“He reminds me of Beetlejuice. I heard a couple of the younger Feebs calling him Scrooge. What about Ebenezer Beetlejuice? That has a nice ring to it, you think? Posters, coffee mugs, t-shirts? Big marketing opportunity there, buddy.”
“Okay, Tom. Let’s establish some ground rules. We’re not in our office, so you can’t have me yakking like a damned hyena in here, okay? If we can’t behave in here, how are we going to hold up at the ‘U’?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Think mature thoughts,” Tom pouted.
“Check out Mrs. Eckhart,” Babe said.
Belinda Eckhart was a slender woman in her mid-fifties and what some people might refer to as ‘bony’. She wore heavy makeup and clothes that were intended for a much younger woman. She walked unstably on too-high heels and
it appeared that while this event served no alcohol, she had gotten a running start on the way. Mrs. Eckhart currently had two very young agents cornered and as she laughed between sips of her drink, she found cause to put a hand on one of the men and then the other— touching and sometimes holding their arms. Her eyes twinkled over the rim of her glass as she performed tongue gymnastics with a cherry stem.
“Today on Wild Kingdom,” Babe whispered. “Observe as the female cougar preens, squirts and sprays her essence—thus triggering the mating ritual.”
Tom snorted and then elbowed Babe sharply.
“What the fuck, Babe? You just spanked me over that shit.”
“I know. You can’t take me anywhere,” Babe said.
Babe and Tom caught up with Millie and Christie. They were talking to an agent and his wife who had relocated from Florida. Millie was in the middle of retaliation against the agent, who had informed her that his Gators were going to take the SEC title away from Alabama this year. Millie pointed a finger at his chest.
“When your little beach boys learn to play a little defense, then you can step on the field with the big boys, Gator Man.”
Christie and the poor guy’s wife looked at Millie like she had grown a third eye.
“Oh, please tell me you didn’t bring up ‘Bama football,” Babe said to the agent.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear. Just don’t let her hit me,” the agent smiled.
“Do you remember me, Mr. Babelton?”
“Yeah, I do. Don’t tell me…ahhhh, Jim?”
“Very good.”
He held out his hand.
“Jim Singletary. This is my wife, Hannah. Hannah, I met Mr. Babelton when I was interviewing with the Bureau.”
Babe spotted Jack across the room. A crew cut agent hurried up to Jack and whispered into his ear. Jack walked over to Russell Eckhart and whispered into his ear while scanning the room. He did the same to Jordan and then walked over to Babe. Jack took his keys from his pocket and pressed them into Babe’s hand.
