The Delivery Man

by Joe McGinniss, Jr.

  Chase sleeps past noon. He wakes up with a headache and the vague sense of guilt he always feels when he sleeps this late. The soreness from his workout yesterday—his first in weeks—alleviates some of the shame but it also makes him feel older and that leads to loneliness. The midday silence of the apartment would depress him even further if he weren’t staring at the pencil outlines he managed late last night on one of the three canvases. Plus there’s the cash in his wallet from Michele, which means he’ll be able to write a check (that won’t bounce) for the rent—without taxes the three thousand dollars is more than he was earning at Centennial. A long, hot shower and the thought of coffee picks him up. At a Starbucks on Maryland he reads the Weekly because there’s supposed to be a listing for the show and Devon told him he’d try to mention Chase, but leafing through the newspaper he finds nothing and figures next week he’ll be in there because the show is still two weeks away. Chase thinks about today. There is a plan. Chase will give at least two rides and then he’ll work on the canvas a little more and then go to the gym again if he has time. He’ll also go to the party Bailey’s throwing because Michele suggested he should. The caffeine starts kicking in and he’s okay again and the prospect of a full day and being productive and moving forward energizes him. It feels right, all of it. He calls Julia and gets voice mail and leaves a rambling message about the summer ahead: looking for apartments in San Francisco neighborhoods, North Beach and South of Market, the Marina (but that’s too white), and he goes on until the tone sounds and cuts him off. Chase calls back and says he misses her and maybe she can come to his show but his cell beeps and when he sees that it’s a call from a number he doesn’t recognize he drops the call to Julia and takes the one from a girl named Melanie who needs a ride.

  It’s almost eleven and Chase is on his way to Bailey’s party, driving the Mustang too fast up a winding road called Sweetwater Lane in Summerlin. Hunter sits in the passenger seat breathing into cupped hands, checking his breath, intermittently singing along to the Green Day song on the radio. Chase wears black baggy jeans and a navy Versace shirt, pressed and unbuttoned, with a white tank top underneath. His head is freshly shaved. His face is purposefully not. His skin feels both tight and soft and he smells good. It’s the Havana cologne by Aramis that Michele bought him earlier in the day. They went to the Fashion Show Mall so Michele could get new underwear to update the pictures on her Web site. And then Michele gave Chase two hundred dollars because he “deserved it.” Chase spent sixty dollars on a small black leather-bound Bosca date book in which he’ll keep track of all the girls’ names, addresses, and phone numbers. (In fact, he has the date book with him tonight.) Chase slows the convertible as it passes three girls in short shirts and low, tight jeans marching arm in arm along Sweetwater Lane toward Bailey’s house. They shriek when Hunter growls at them. They want a ride and Chase stops the car and Hunter mutters “sweet” under his breath and the car idles until the girls get within reach. Then Chase pulls away and leaves them behind.

  “Save your money tonight,” Chase tells Hunter, almost as if it’s a warning.

  “I miss Monique,” Hunter says, surprising Chase.

  “Seriously?” Chase asks. “Julia’s friend?”

  “But Monique doesn’t miss me,” Hunter sighs. “That’s the way it goes.”

  Jettas and Jeeps and SUVs and a few Kawasaki Ninjas are parked in front of Bailey’s house and inside there are mostly girls. There are also a few guys in their late thirties and early forties—prosperous, buzzed, playing it cool. Jazz-funk fusion is the sound track and dim lighting makes everyone look great. Chase thinks this scene is unusually sophisticated for Bailey and decides that Michele deserves the credit. When Chase turns to ask Hunter if he wants a beer Hunter’s already lost in the crowd.

  Chase downs a Corona in the kitchen, standing across from three young girls who smoke cigarettes and drink something pale pink from tumblers. Chase is about to introduce himself to the one girl he recognizes from the suite at the Palace. (This is the girl who stood in the doorway and told him that Michele was in San Diego or L.A. and was “totally not worth it.” This is the girl who thought Chase was the john.) She wears a tight white T-shirt with the word SWITCH-HITTER on it. Michele suddenly appears and kisses Chase on the mouth and the girl from the suite introduces Michele to her two friends. Michele fails to introduce Chase to the girls but Chase doesn’t care because he remembers that this girl is from Centennial. A flicker of regret and then he wonders what difference it makes.

  “Where is he?” Michele asks the girls.

  “Upstairs?” The girls shrug. “Outside?”

  “Have you seen Bailey?” Michele asks Chase.

  He shakes his head then looks back at the girl from the suite.

  Michele frowns and heads out of the kitchen.

  “Bailey’s dad owns the Hard Rock,” one of the girls says.

  “Is that what he told you?” Chase asks.

  “Who are you?” one of the girls asks, annoyed. “And why are you staring at us?”

  “He came up to the suite,” the girl says. “At the Palace. He came up looking for Michele.”

  “You know,” one of the girls says, “you don’t need to come to the hotel. A lot is happening outside the suite.”

  “So what?” Chase asks. “Why are you telling me this? I don’t give a shit.”

  “Who the hell are you?” she asks.

  “I used to be your sister’s favorite teacher,” Chase says.

  “News flash: I don’t have a sister, faggot.”

  “I’m your driver,” Chase says. “I’m supposed to make sure you get from your mother’s house to wherever you’re going and back again in one piece.”

  And then it happens so fast and unexpectedly that Chase doesn’t recognize it at first. Bailey is standing next to the glowing aqua pool. And there is a person standing next to Bailey in an oversize white-and-red-striped Polo shirt, baggy jeans, and a thick Rolex on his wrist. This person is explaining something to Bailey. This person is gesturing with his hands. This person is punctuating certain points with a high-pitched laugh. This person is causing Bailey to nod.

  This person is Rush.

  And when Bailey slowly turns his head from Rush and looks at the house his eyes meet Chase’s. Bailey is considering things and still looking at Chase through the glass doors of the kitchen when he says something without turning back to Rush. Rush immediately looks over at Chase and then smiles tightly. Bailey nods at something Rush says. Bailey motions for Chase to come outside. Rush becomes surprisingly relaxed. Bailey and Rush keep talking, occasionally looking in Chase’s direction, and since the girls have left the kitchen Chase holds up a finger, like hang on, and turns away, watching the girls as they head over to Hunter, while he tries to put this all together. Chase considers following the girls but once they get to Hunter one of them whispers something in his ear that causes Hunter to glance around the room. Hunter nods curtly and that’s the cue for the four of them to go upstairs. Chase turns and grabs another Corona from the counter and heads outside because there’s nowhere else to go.

  “It’s cool, Chase.” This is Bailey thinking he needs to talk Chase down as he moves toward them standing together by the pool. “It is very, very cool, okay? Rush told me what happened between you guys and I wouldn’t have invited you if it weren’t totally cool now.” Bailey turns to Rush for confirmation that things are now totally cool.

  Chase plays along and reassures Bailey that everything is fine and, to prove it, turns his attention immediately to Rush.

  “I’m so sorry, man. I feel like shit.” Chase extends his hand and Rush is easy with the situation and they exchange a hand pound.

  “You’re a hard-ass,” Rush says with a grin. “You were one of the three teachers at Centennial who everyone knew had a sack and would kick your ass if you stepped to them.” Rush nods approvingly. “Hey, did they really fire you?”

  “They had to,” Chase says. “They thought you
and your mom would sue them.”

  “We are.” Rush laughs. “They suspended me for two weeks. My father was all You did what you had to do and bought me a Yamaha GP800 and took me out to Lake Mead.” Rush pauses. “He wanted to come after you. I told him you were cool. I stepped to you.”

  “Chase is always starting shit he can’t finish and he is so not cool,” Bailey says. “In fact, Chase is fucking nuts.”

  The muscles in Chase’s shoulders and neck tighten. He realizes he’s clenching his teeth. He should be relieved but there’s something off about the situation. “Yeah, I’m a mess,” he manages.

  “But he’s leaving,” Bailey says and turns to Chase. “Right? You still leaving?”

  Chase nods and sips the Corona. He studies Rush. “I’m really glad we got to patch things up. Rachel said you were coming after me.”

  Rush rolls his eyes and makes an exaggerated gesture with his arm. “Rachel says a lot of things.”

  “Yeah.” Chase forces a grin. “She said you guys were plotting something.”

  “Bitch just wants someone to listen to her. That’s all she wants.” Rush shakes his head in disbelief. “And I tell her, maybe someone will listen to you if you shut the fuck up once in a while.”

  “Well, when she told me you said I think we should shoot that motherfucker, it kind of freaked me out.”

  “She just likes to cause trouble,” Bailey says. “She’s full of shit.”

  “Rachel needs to take her meds and stop calling my house,” Rush adds. “My stepmom is so close to calling the cops.” He grins. “The psycho-bitch is stalking me.”

  “She was so sure you were plotting something. She wouldn’t shut up about it.”

  “It’s attention. It’s a cry for help, dude,” Rush says. “I mean, this girl fucked her mom’s boyfriend.”

  “She’s a very naïve little girl,” Bailey says, checking his BlackBerry.

  Rush continues to detail Rachel’s unraveling. According to Rush, after Rachel’s mom found out that Rachel had indeed fucked her boyfriend, Rachel stayed with Rush for a month until it got out of hand and she went nuts on him and then she moved in with her brother, Ronnie, at the two-bedroom apartment in the Tropicana Gardens.

  “I had to let her go,” Rush says. “She was obsessed with me. She’d call me all the fucking time, and my mother, and all of her candy-corn friends a thousand times, insisting someone better listen to her. Someone listen to me, someone listen to me. That’s all she kept saying was someone listen to me and then it stopped. All the calls. Everything. She suddenly dropped it all. Like it never happened. She’s fucking bipolar or something.”

  “Aren’t we all,” Bailey murmurs, grinning at something he’s been texted.

  But Chase isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s watching the house: the living room filled with girls and the older men and he starts running the numbers in his head and trying to remember if he locked the door to his apartment when he left. Chase is brought back when Bailey mentions the 9-millimeter he carries under the front seat of the Impala now.

  “They say you live a new life,” Bailey says. “They say you, like, become a whole other person every seven years.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Chase says.

  “So we really don’t know each other at all when you think about it.” And then an odd segue: “Rush is going to help me out for a little while.”

  “That’s, um, great,” Chase says, smiling tightly.

  “Half the girls here tonight are because of Rush,” Bailey says.

  “I know a lot of people,” Rush says matter-of-factly. “Dude, it’s like a Centennial assembly here. You don’t recognize any of them?”

  “Some of them, I guess.” Chase sips his Corona.

  “Because they sure as hell recognize you.” Rush glances at Bailey and then back at Chase. “Like three or four have already come up to me and they’re all grabbing my arm, like, Oh my God, did you see who’s here? And I’m all They fired his ass and he’s with Bailey now.”

  “So what are you getting out of this?” Chase asks. “Like a finder’s fee or something?”

  “No, no,” Rush says, swinging his head back and forth. “Nothing like that.”

  Chase considers this. “Well, then what do you get?”

  “He gets your job when you leave,” Bailey says.

  In Bailey’s room with the king-size burgundy bed and the African masks, Chase sits on the window ledge and stares out into the backyard while Michele finishes unpacking from her San Diego trip. Bailey figured out when all this started back in January, before other girls were brought in, that it would be so simple for him and Michele (or just Michele) to fly to a few cities and stay at airport hotels. All the appointments would be booked in advance after running their ads on Craigslist and directing clients to their Web site. Imagine it: three-day trips to nice hotels in five or six cities over a few months could net ten thousand dollars. Bailey made an itinerary and constructed the Web site with Michele’s picture and a brief biography, complete with fake customer reviews. But Michele never agreed to leave the city and told Chase that her life would have to be in a tailspin if she ever got on a plane to fly somewhere else to do this.

  “You smell really good,” she says. “I meant to tell you that.”

  “The girls from downstairs, Brandi’s friends, are up here getting high.”

  Michele nods while rooting through her suitcase.

  “With Hunter,” Chase adds.

  Michele suddenly pays attention to Chase. She walks over to him and touches his lips with a finger.

  “It just gets better and better,” Chase says.

  “You look like shit, Chase.” She presses her index finger against his forehead, then gazes down at the pool and the girls mingling with men old enough to be their fathers.

  “Does Bailey have this whole thing under control?” Chase asks.

  Michele turns away and walks back to the suitcase, where she removes a white envelope filled with cash from San Diego, and she says it doesn’t matter whether Bailey has the whole thing under control.

  “Since when doesn’t it matter?” Chase asks.

  Michele counts out a hundred dollars and hands it to Chase. He doesn’t ask her what it’s for. He just says thanks. He doesn’t care what it’s for. He needs it.

  Chase gazes back into the darkened yard, the glowing blue rectangle at the center of it, and then: Rush. “That’s the kid I got fired for.” Chase lifts himself from the window ledge and lets himself fall backward onto the bed. “Downstairs. Outside. He’s working for your boyfriend.” Chase stares at the ceiling fan and watches the blades spin. He tries to key in on one and stick with it but gives up because it makes him dizzy.

  “Bailey got Rush because he can control him,” Michele says. “And probably to fuck with you a little. Bailey’s getting antsy.

  Bailey thought you were leaving, but you’re still here. For some reason he thinks you’re in the way. He’s worried about you.”

  Chase realizes why and his entire body constricts and he asks her, “Should he be?”

  “Oh, Chase, don’t go there.” Michele starts throwing clothes into a hamper. “Bailey stopped asking when you’re leaving because every time I tell him, you stay longer. He doesn’t believe me anymore. He thinks you’ll convince me to screw him over.”

  “I might. I will. I mean, I would consider it.”

  “He’s panicking.”

  “Are you?”

  “I’m as calm as a ghost.”

  “Did you get your house yet?” Chases asks softly.

  She shakes her head. Michele moves back to the window and watches Bailey and Rush and the girls and the men who have come to meet them mingle in the backyard around the glowing pool. “Bailey’s making half of what he should be because he doesn’t keep track of things. Girls skim money or work a weekend, then quit. The suite is costing more than he thought because girls and his idiot friends just end up partying there instead of working. He’s seri
ously not paying attention. And I tell him this and he’s just not focusing.” She considers something. “And I just have to get as much as I can before it all goes to hell.”

  “Why don’t you just lose the suite at the Palace and do it here?”

  Michele shakes her head.

  “Well, Rachel has her own place,” Chase says. “She’d let you use it. Just give her brother an occasional freebie.” He pauses and reaches out to her. “Like you used to do with me when you’d sleep over at my mom’s place.”

  Michele closes her eyes.

  Chase is so tired that he could fall asleep, here, in Bailey’s bed.

  “Did you know that Hunter told me he’s pissed away about ten grand on your little friends?” Chase says dreamily. “Did you know that?” He considers. “Probably.”