Spoonbenders

by Daryl Gregory

  Ten minutes or an hour later, depending on whether you were on the insulting or insulted side of the table, Amber finally spoke. She smiled and issued the obligatory words of benediction: “Do you have any questions for us?”

  Irene remembered being onstage, blinking in bright lights, looking out into the darkness, where strangers were waiting for her to fail. She was so thankful when Archibald had debunked them and Mom had called an end to the act. She’d become disgusted with being judged.

  Amber said, “All right, then, if you don’t have anything—”

  “There is one bit of work experience I forgot to mention,” Irene said. The group regarded her blankly. Mentally they’d moved on to the next meeting, the next candidate. “When I was a girl, my family had a psychic act. Teddy Telemachus and His Amazing Family. It sounds crazy, I know, but we were famous for a while. We toured the country. We were even on national TV once.”

  Laurie said, “Psychic act?”

  Bob the Boss said, “That sounds interesting, but I’m not sure that’s relevant to—”

  “Let me explain,” Irene said. “We each had a talent. My brother could move things with his mind. My mother was clairvoyant. And I was the human lie detector.” She smiled, and Amber returned the smile automatically, though her sunshine eyes were panicked. “At some point in the show, my father would call up someone from the audience and tell them about my ability. All they had to do was try to tell me a lie and not get caught. It could be something simple, like holding the ace of clubs and telling me it was the ace of spades. Or they could try to tell me their age, or their weight. Then Dad would ask them to write down two truths and a lie—just like the party game.

  “Sometimes it got really interesting. If the crowd was right, Dad would prompt them into writing down embarrassing things, things that were a little risqué. I wouldn’t even know what some of the sentences meant. I was only ten. But you know what?”

  She had their attention now. More than twenty years since she’d been onstage, but the old skills were still there.

  “I never made a mistake,” Irene said. “Not once.”

  Bob and Jon exchanged looks. Laurie said, “Not once? What was the trick?”

  “It’s just something I could do. Can do.”

  Bob smiled uncertainly, not sure if she was kidding. “Well, too bad we don’t have a deck of cards.”

  “I know,” Jon said. He reached into his pocket, came out with a quarter. He flipped it, covered it with his hands. Then he peeked at it.

  Irene waited.

  “It’s heads,” Jon said.

  “No, it’s not.”

  Jon laughed. “Caught me. One more time.”

  Bob said, “Why don’t we move along. If you don’t have any questions, I suppose we can—”

  “I do have a few questions,” Irene said.

  Bob took a breath. “Sure, sure. Fire away.”

  She pretended to glance at her notes. “Everything you’ve told me makes it sound like the perfect company,” Irene said. “Have any of you looked for another job outside the company, say, in the last six months?”

  No one spoke, until Amber the HR rep said, “I don’t think that’s a question that—”

  “Of course not,” Bob said.

  “Not me,” Jon said.

  Laurie shook her head. “I plan on being here a long time.”

  “Huh,” Irene said, as if mulling this over. “Bob and Laurie are telling the truth, but Jon…”

  Amber’s eyes went wide.

  “Where did you apply?” Irene said.

  Jon’s smile was a little stiff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “See, that’s a lie, too,” Irene said. “Bob, did you know Jon was unhappy here?”

  Bob blinked in confusion. The interview had taken a hard left turn, and he was struggling to keep up.

  “Never mind, new question,” Irene said. “Bob, do you pay women and men equally for doing the same job?”

  “Of course,” Bob said.

  It was a lie, but she was only setting him up for the fastball. She said, “How about Jon and Laurie, here. They’re both assistant managers, but Laurie’s been here longer. Is she making more than Jon?”

  Laurie leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. A woman who already knew the answer.

  “I have to warn you,” Irene said to Bob. “I never miss.”

  “Who are you?” Bob asked.

  “I take that as a no.” To Laurie she said, “I think I’d get a new job. Or take Jon’s when he leaves. Just make sure to ask for his salary.”

  She picked up the beautiful portfolio and stood. She felt dizzy, but didn’t fall. Wouldn’t allow herself to fall.

  “I really enjoyed meeting you,” she said. None of them were human lie detectors, but she was confident they’d be able to evaluate her statement. She walked off without waiting for applause.

  —

  Six hours later, Teddy met her at the curb at O’Hare. “I gotta tell you,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to come home early.”

  Irene stared out through the windshield as they rode away from the airport. She didn’t want to speak. She’d exiled herself from Hotel Land, but wanted to carry that wordlessness with her.

  “I need your help with something. Something that’ll help Graciella. You like Graciella, don’t you? You two really seemed to hit it off.”

  Dad hadn’t asked why she’d returned a day early, or seemed to notice that she was a hollow-eyed wreck. But why should that be a surprise? Before she left he hadn’t asked her why she was going to Arizona or who she was seeing. He was oblivious to her nervousness and excitement, and now he was blind to her heartbreak. His sole interest in the trip was when it would start and end, and that was only because he wanted to know how long he was responsible for Matty.

  My father is a narcissist, she thought. This was not a new thought. She’d learned when she was ten that if you’re not part of the act, you’re part of the audience.

  He took the wrong exit off North Avenue and she gave him a look.

  “One last errand,” he said.

  “Just take me home,” Irene said. She’d taken too many car trips with her father recently, and she’d be happy never to take one again.

  “I helped you, now you help me,” he said. “I absolutely need you at my side for the next half hour.”

  “What scam are you running now?”

  “I’m just trying to do something nice for a woman.” His imitation of outrage was unconvincing.

  “Sure, it’s all for Graciella. Look at you. You’re practically hopping up and down behind the wheel.”

  “I like helping people,” he said.

  She made a rude noise.

  “What?” he asked. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Jesus Christ, Dad. I can’t believe I’m still doing it. I’m a grown woman, and I’m still—never mind.”

  “Doing what? Please, enlighten me.”

  “I spent most of my life waiting for you to notice me.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”

  “Notice you? How could I not notice you? You were the one scowling at me every time I did something that your mother wouldn’t have done.”

  “There we go. It took you one sentence to get back to how you’re the victim.”

  “You’re making the same face. Right now.”

  “Did it even occur to you to ask me why I needed a babysitter for Matty?”

  “I’m sure it was important.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “If you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me! I’m sorry for wanting to respect your privacy. Now, here’s the bar.”

  “A bar? We’re going to a bar?”

  “Technically, a tavern. Don’t you remember this place? I used to bring you with me sometimes.”

  “You never brought me here. That was probably Frankie.”

  “Maybe so, maybe so.”

  He parked in the spot closest to the door, whic
h happened to be a handicapped spot. Irene started to object, and he shushed her. “It’s legal, it’s legal. Open the glove compartment.”

  She found the handicapped tag and pulled it out with two fingers, as if it were a dead fish or a loaded gun. Dad rolled his eyes and hung the tag from the front mirror. “Come around and help me out.”

  “What?”

  “Help me walk in.”

  “Help yourself out!”

  “Damn it, Irene, it’s a simple request. Hold on to my arm like I can barely walk. Help me sit down, fuss over me—”

  “Jesus Christ, why?”

  “I can’t explain, not now. But rest assured—”

  “I’m sure it’s important,” Irene said, throwing his line back at him.

  “It is! It surely is!” He was oblivious to sarcasm. “Now remember, I’m feeble.”

  “Minded,” Irene said, loud enough for him to hear.

  They performed a geriatric mime on the way to the front door, Teddy placing one foot meditatively in front of the other, hand gripping her arm. He was pretty good at it. Irene could almost imagine the hip replacement.

  “A cane would really sell this,” he stage-whispered to her. “Maybe one with the three rubber feet?”

  She couldn’t believe she was participating in this.

  “It’s the saddest of the canes,” he went on. “You can’t even pretend to be stylish. Fred Astaire never danced with a tri-support.”

  Irene pulled open the door for him, and he hobbled inside. The dim interior smelled of stale beer and inadequate bleach.

  “The usual, Teddy?” said a huge, indistinct shape behind the bar.

  Teddy chuckled. To Irene he said, “Twenty years since I’ve been here, Barney still knows my drink.” Somehow he’d made his voice shakier, as if it needed its own tri-support.

  “Let’s sit at the bar,” Teddy said to Irene. There was no one else in the place. Maybe it was too early on Saturday for even the drunks.

  “Sure, Dad,” she said flatly. “Let me get the stool for you.”

  “Nothing for her,” Teddy said to the bartender. “You been using the same bar rag since 1962. She doesn’t have the antibodies for this place.”

  “I’ll have a beer,” Irene said. “In a bottle.” Barney nodded. He was about the same age as Dad, but three times his size.

  “So how’s the place doing?” Teddy asked. He threw some extra quaver in his voice, an old man struggling to sound jovial. They started talking about people Irene didn’t know and would, she hoped, never meet.

  Irene watched Mirror Irene sip her beer. That woman lived in an alternate universe called Arizona, with a man who loved her.

  When she came back from the interview, Joshua could see she was upset—unlike her father, he was no narcissist—and kept pressing her for answers. For words. She couldn’t explain why she’d gotten so mad, and so couldn’t explain why she’d all but set fire to the conference room. She couldn’t tell him how angry she was at him.

  “Never do me a favor again,” she told him, and started packing.

  He tried to talk to her all the way to the airport, kept talking as she exchanged her ticket. He even paid the transfer fee, all the while asking, “What are you saying?” As if she were speaking another language.

  Only the gate stopped him. “You’re never leaving Arizona,” she said. Her anger had turned to sorrow, so that now she was a blubbering mess. “You can’t leave, not with joint custody. And I can’t just live off whatever crumbs you throw my way. There’s no future for me here.”

  How could she explain? She loved their time in Hotel Land, but that wasn’t a place you could live forever. The smart thing to do was to let him go now.

  “So,” Dad said to the bartender. “Is Mitzi in yet?”

  Barney nodded over Teddy’s shoulder. A woman whose age was in the same ballpark as the men’s walked toward Teddy, her arms out. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said.

  “That cat is my daughter,” Teddy said with a grin.

  “And you’re an old dog.” Mitzi kissed him on the cheek. To Irene she said, “Now I feel old. Your dad used to talk about you.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said to Mitzi.

  “She’s such a good daughter,” Teddy said. “Takes me everywhere.”

  “It’s good to have a strong woman at your side,” Mitzi said.

  “Talk about a strong woman,” Teddy said to Irene. “You want a role model, look no further. Mitzi’s run this place through fat times and thin.”

  “Charmer,” Mitzi said. She was a scrawny bird of a woman, with a finch’s glitter in her eye. Mitzi said, “You’re not selling that UltraLife stuff, too, are you?”

  “What’s that?” Dad asked. He wasn’t faking the confusion.

  “Frankie started bringing it with him,” Mitzi said. “Damn if it didn’t straighten me out.”

  Irene shot her father a hard look. Was this visit about Frankie, and not Graciella? But no, Teddy didn’t know what Mitzi was talking about.

  “So Frankie’s been stopping by?” Teddy said.

  “Oh yeah,” Mitzi said. “On a weekly basis. Mostly weekly. He’s missed a few.”

  Dad seemed shaken. “I apologize if the boy’s been pushing the stuff on you. Frankie’s been so excited about it.”

  Mitzi said, “You want to come back in my office and talk about it?”

  Dad hesitated, then said, “We can talk in front of Irene. She knows all about Frankie’s business.”

  An outright lie. Irene had no clue what was going on. She wasn’t reassured that Teddy seemed to have no idea, either.

  “All right then,” Mitzi said skeptically. She took the stool next to Teddy’s. They were all sitting now, facing away from the bar. Barney had disappeared into the back room.

  “So. Frankie’s visits,” Dad said. “How much are we talking?”

  “You know I usually keep those numbers confidential.”

  “How much, Mitzi?”

  “As of yesterday, forty-nine thousand, seventy-four dollars and twenty-four cents.”

  Irene suddenly realized what those numbers meant. Dad was shocked, too, to judge by his frozen expression.

  Mitzi said, “I asked him not to bring you into this. He’s going to talk to Nick next week. They’ll work it out.”

  Fuck, Irene thought. Bad pictures flickered in her head from a dozen violent movies. She pictured her brother trying to talk his way out of trouble, the way he tried to talk his way out of everything. He’d never learned that when he was drowning he should keep his mouth shut.

  “No,” Dad said. “I’ll talk to Nick.” Irene watched her father. A moment ago, he didn’t know about Frankie owing money, but now he was putting on to Mitzi that he not only knew about the situation, but had already put a plan in motion. Teddy Telemachus, world-class bluff. That poker face made him the only person in the family who could keep secrets from her. That, and the way he dealt his words as carefully as his cards.

  “You want to talk to Nick?” Mitzi asked. “That might not be such a great idea.”

  “Your brother stands a lot better chance of getting the money from me than from Frankie,” Teddy said.

  “It’s not that, and you know it.”

  “This is my son, Mitzi. Please. Make it happen.”

  —

  Irene did not speak until they were back in the car. He let her get behind the wheel, for appearances.

  “What the hell was that about?” she asked.

  “I’m as surprised as you are.”

  That was the truth. He’d dropped the bluff now that he was out of the tavern.

  “I wanted an appointment with Nick so I could talk to him about Graciella. But this?”

  Still, she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. “Frankie’s in debt to the mob for fifty K,” she said.

  “It seems so.”

  “That explains how he was able to keep Bellerophonics going so long with no customers.”

  �
�He kept coming to me for money,” Dad said. “Third time, I told him I was tapped out and he should close up shop—work for somebody else and actually get paid. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to go to God damn Nick Pusateri. The whole point of raising kids is to make sure they don’t make the same mistakes as you did.”

  There was an entire story there that she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know. Instead, she asked, “You’re not going to pay it, are you?”

  “Just drive me home, Irene. No. Wait. Drive me to Wal-Mart.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I need to buy a cane and a baseball bat,” he said.

  “I understand the cane.”

  “The bat is to whack your brother with.”

  “Let’s buy two,” Irene said.

  14

  Frankie

  He could hear Loretta calling for him from the house. Eventually she thought of the garage.

  The black hunk of metal nestled into the hood of her car like an egg on a pillow. The impact had also cracked the windshield. The safe door, however, was closed. Still fucking closed.

  She walked toward him. He was sitting on a folding chair next to the front bumper of the car. The floor was littered by a garden of crushed Budweiser cans—and locks. Padlocks of every kind were scattered around the cement floor, none of them open.

  “Can I help you, Loretta?”

  She took in the sweatpants, the undershirt, the empty Doritos bag. She looked again at the Corolla and the black safe, then back at him.

  “Are you going to work today?” Her voice was surprisingly soft.

  “Sure,” he said. “What time is it?”

  “After nine.”

  “Huh.” He rubbed his jaw. Normally he would have left a couple of hours ago. He probably should have gone. Work would have occupied him. Kept his mind off of what was waiting for him this afternoon. Who was waiting for him.

  “I was going to go to the grocery store,” Loretta said.

  “Okay.”

  She stared at him.

  “I think we’re out of milk,” he said.

  “I was wondering about the car,” she said.

  He nodded slowly, as if this was a good point.

  “So will it run?” she asked.

  He pursed his lips. Thought for a moment. “Hard to say.”