DeVille's Contract

by Scott Zarcinas

  Frank O’Lynn looked up from the table. “To be sure, that won’t happen. This time I’m serious, Rocco.” He paused to glance outside the window again, then said, “I want out.”

  Louis did all in his power to hide his smile. They had the cowardly Irish guinea pig right where they wanted him. Now it was just a matter of turning the screws.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Louis Signs the Contract

  LESS than an hour later, Louis, Santosa and Tiffany left Frank O’Lynn to mull over the offer for his share in the company. Santosa had offered him only half of what they had originally agreed on two years ago. Louis felt no pity for the guy. He had had his chance when the company was in a better financial shape and should have taken it back then. Now he just had to take what was being tabled. And he would, too. Louis could feel it. He didn’t know why but Frank O’Lynn wanted out something bad, and he wanted out yesterday.

  Louis and Tiffany helped Santosa down the seventeen flights to the ground floor, then outside to the waiting Limo. The chauffeur was busy under the hood tinkering with the engine. Nearby, a boulder the size of Cessna had embedded into the street, as if toppled from the top of The Tower, miraculously missing all vehicles and pedestrians. Nobody except Louis paid it any heed. “I can’t see any problems with the buyout. Your partner’s mind has gone,” Louis said. “He’s lost focus. It’ll be like taking candy off a baby. The only question is, is the company worth what you’re offering?”

  The chauffeur closed the hood, then hurried to open the door and slide out the wheelchair ramp. “The structure of the business is sound. I just have to stop the bleeding,” Santosa said, as the chauffeur pushed him into the rear cabin. “I might have to go to the bank to come up with the cash, but I’ll worry about that when I have to.”

  Louis hesitated in getting in, eyeing the massive boulder. The invisible force of The Tower logo was scratching at the back of his head, trying to connect with its mind-hold, but he reckoned he could keep it at bay as long as he remembered to focus on the image of the winged rabbit. He stuck his head in through the door and told Santosa he felt like stretching his legs for a bit.

  “Your choice,” Santosa said. Tiffany had already secured the wheelchair and was now pouring him a glass of champagne. “We should go out and celebrate. I know a great bar around here. The Lounge Lizard. They have a great happy hour.”

  Louis hitched his toga, scanning across the piazza to the hotel. “I thought everyone was on the job all day every day.”

  “Entertainment expenses. I’m soliciting business for the company. It’s all legal.”

  Louis always felt perky after a meeting had gone well, so he agreed to meet them back at the honeymoon suite and then head out to the bar. His second wind had come, as he knew it would, and a few celebratory drinks wouldn’t go astray. He also reckoned a couple of those little blue diamonds would go down well, too. Why not? This was the goddamn After Life. What did he have to lose?

  The Limo pulled away and came to a halt at the end of the jam waiting to get to the hotel. In its wake a used bingo card fluttered onto the street. It wasn’t a winner. Nevertheless, on his way across the piazza, he took it to the Money Tree and placed it on the head-high pile at its stem. A ferret next to him made the sign of a five-pointed star on his chest and said a silent prayer, then backed away with reverence. Louis shrugged and thought, When in Rome.

  After making the five-pointed sign and praying for more money, he weaved through the rest of the worshippers to the hotel. It dawned only when he stepped through the rotating doors into the lobby what had been bugging him about the crowd: there were no children. In fact, in the entire time he had been here, he hadn’t had to give way to an irate mother bulldozing her pram along the sidewalk. He hadn’t had to evade any runaway skateboards or scooters. He hadn’t collided with a little weasel or jackal that wasn’t watching where he was walking; and he hadn’t cringed at the sound of a spoiled brat wailing for a toy or ice cream. Not so much as a hungry baby demanding to be fed. An entire city without kids. It was just too perfect to be true.

  Salma Gundi called out for him as he stepped around the line of suit and ties waiting at reception. “You-seem-to-be-in-a-jovial-mood-today-sir,” he said.

  “Damn right,” Louis said. Even the background instrumental of Top of the World couldn’t diminish his joy. “I just realized there’s no kids in the After Life. It’s heaven.”

  Salma Gundi shook his head in a figure-of-8. “It-is-whatever-you-choose-it-to-be-sir. But-if-you-would-excuse-me-I-was-wondering-what-time-you’ll-be-checking-out,” and he gestured to the line of suits. “As-you-can-see-the-hotel-is-overbooked-for-the-AGM-and-I-need-every-available-room.”

  Louis’ smile faded in a hurry. “What are you talking about?”

  Salma Gundi consulted his ledger. “According-to-me-you’ve-been-here-for-more-than-24-hours. You-must-check-out.”

  “This is goddamn ridiculous. I need that room. I’ve got nowhere else to stay.”

  “The-booking-was-only-for-one-day-sir.”

  Louis hitched his toga, looking around for a clock. There were none behind the reception desk or above the elevators. Salma Gundi wasn’t even wearing a watch. “But I only arrived a few hours ago. I’ve just booked in.”

  “Time-goes-quicker-in-the-After-Life-sir.” Salma Gundi pushed the hotel receipt across the desk with the tip of his claw. “I-have-already-given-you-a-late-checkout. There-is-absolutely-totally-undeniably-nothing-else-I-can-do.”

  Eyeing the receipt with aversion, Louis pushed it back. “I thought The Boss was picking up the tab.”

  “I-know-nothing-of-that-sir,” Salma Gundi said. “You-will-have-to-discuss-it-with-him.”

  Louis snatched the receipt and told him that he needed some time to make alternative arrangements. Just as he turned to make his way to the stairwell, Salma Gundi called him back to the desk. “I-nearly-forgot-sir. I-have-something-else-for-you.” He went to Louis’ pigeonhole and returned with a scroll. “Here-we-are-sir. Perhaps-it-is-what-you-have-been-looking-for. From-The-Boss-perhaps.”

  Louis took the scroll and untied the purple ribbon, another goddamn invitation to the Mansion of Many Rooms. “Who keeps delivering these scrolls?” he asked.

  Salma Gundi hooded his eyes. “I-do-not-know-sir. I-found-it-lying-on-the-desk-like-the-other-one.”

  “Was it that goddamn rabbit?”

  A weasel and a ferret at the front of the line chuckled and shook their heads. Salma Gundi flicked his tongue and licked his lips. “I-am-absolutely-totally-undeniably-sure-it-was-not-the-rabbit-sir,” he said. “Now-if-you-please-I-will-extend-your-checkout-by-another-two-hours. Then-you-must-pay-and-leave.”

  Louis climbed the seven floors to the honeymoon suite with the sound of laughter following him up the stairwell. He stormed down the corridor and flung open the door to his room. It banged into the wall and shook the sketch of the Money Tree above the sofa. The Home Shopping Channel, he saw, was still on the screen above the mini bar, the rat now selling timeshare at the LeMont Country Club. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, “that’s all I need.” What he really needed was to talk to Flash Freddy. He needed him to fix this goddamn mess.

  As he entered, he stepped on a folded piece of paper someone had slipped under the door. It turned out to be an unsigned note in neat cursive script: THERE IS NO ESCAPE.

  “What in goddamn blazes is this?” he said, slamming the door. “What kind of sick joke is going on around here?”

  Still holding the invitation to the Mansion of Many Rooms and the receipt for his stay, he scrunched the note into a ball and hurled it to the other side of the suite. It bounced off the balcony doors and rolled beneath the vanity table. He glared at the ball, then through the doors. The lower stories of The Tower were visible across the piazza, along with half the smiling face of Riva Sticks and the topmost branches of the Money Tree. He stormed across the room and yanked the drapes, keeping his eye on the worshipping crowd below. While he was there, he hea
rd what he thought was Flash Freddy’s loping gait approaching down the corridor. He was surprised at how glad he was for the lizard’s return.

  The footsteps stopped outside his room. Louis put the scroll and receipt on top of the vanity table next to the unsigned contract and was about to shout, “Come in!” when another note was slipped under the door. The footsteps then hurried back toward the stairwell. Perplexed, Louis retrieved the note and unfolded it. The writing was different from the other note, plainer and simpler, as if written by a child. If you want to know more about the White Rabbit, be at The Lounge Lizard when the music stops. PS. Destroy this note. It too was unsigned.

  Curious, he opened the door and glanced down the corridor. It was empty, so he shut the door and went back to the vanity table. While he considered how to destroy the note, he caught more footsteps approaching the room. Call it a gut feeling or animal instinct, he decided to stash the note inside the drawer next to Aldo Fiddler’s union card away from snooping eyes. Better to be safe than sorry, Louis my boy. The rat on the Home Shopping Channel was still selling timeshare at the Country Club as the footsteps got louder and stopped outside the room.

  Half expecting another note to be slipped underneath, he hurried to the door and flung it open. Flash Freddy was there, his claw raised and about to knock. “Ah, good, you’re here,” Louis said. “Come in. I’ve got a problem. I need your help.”

  Flash Freddy entered and put his briefcase on top of the vanity table, immediately noticing the scroll and hotel receipt. “So I see,” he said, picking up the scroll. “You’re starting to collect these. Is there something you should be telling me?”

  “Not at all. I’ve got no idea who keeps sending them. Burn it if you like.”

  Flash Freddy removed his Zippo from his inner pocket and opened the drapes to the outside balcony. “You sure?”

  Louis hitched his toga and nodded. “Damn things are starting to freak me out. I feel like someone is spying on me. It’s creepy.”

  “No need to get paranoid. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.” Flash Freddy stepped onto the balcony. The lighter didn’t work after four attempts, so he tossed it over the railing and removed a spare from his pocket. The flaming scroll was then sent the way of the broken Zippo. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”

  Louis glanced at the vanity table, uneasy at the lizard’s close attention. He could feel his gaze monitoring everything he did. “I… uh… want to know the meaning of this,” he said, picking up the hotel receipt. “I’ve been asked to check out and pay the bill. You told me The Boss was taking care of the tab. Where am I going to get the money? I don’t have a goddamn cent to my name.”

  Flash Freddy took the receipt, then eyed the wad of papers next to his briefcase. His pen with his personalized logo was still on top where he had left it. “Have you signed the contract yet?” he asked, to which Louis shook his head. Flash Freddy put the receipt down. “I can’t be much help to you if you won’t fulfill your part of the bargain. The Boss will only take care of you once you’re in his employment. You have to sign.” Smiling his salesman’s smile, he picked up the pen and offered it to Louis. “It’s your choice, Mr. DeVille.”

  “Not much of a goddamn choice, is it?” he said, taking the pen.

  “Need I remind you it’s unbreakable? Once you’ve signed, you’re committed to LeMont for eternity.”

  “I know. I know. Where do I sign the damn thing?”

  Flash Freddy flipped through the contract to the relevant pages. Louis scrawled his signature where he was asked and initialed LDV in the required paragraphs. The perkiness he had felt upon leaving the meeting with Santosa was well and truly gone. Now he felt deflated and tired, like a general signing the unconditional surrender of his army.

  He just hoped to hell he was doing the right thing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Inbuilt Obsolescence

  LOUIS sighed and handed back the pen.

  “Fantastic. You won’t regret it, Mr. DeVille,” Flash Freddy said, storing the contract in his briefcase. As he did, a folio slipped to the floor. “You’re now a proud citizen of LeMont International Enterprises. The Boss will be very pleased. How do you feel?”

  “Huh? Me? Oh fine. When do I start?”

  “Immediately.”

  Flash Freddy dusted the fine layer of dry scales off both shoulders and picked up the loose page. Whilst bending, he spied the scrunched ball of paper that Louis had hurled in anger against the balcony doors. He stood up and flattened the note. “There Is No Escape?” he said, eyes hooded. “What’s this? A secret message? A code?”

  Louis hitched his toga and shrugged. The Home Shopping Channel had moved on to kitchen appliances; all items, the rat reassured, were backed with a thousand year working warrantee. “I thought you might be able to tell me. Somebody slipped it under the door.”

  “Think someone’s playing a prank on you. It’s not something I know, a Snipe or a Discredit Card. I’d ignore it if I were you.” Flash Freddy laid it on the vanity table next to the hotel receipt. “Is that everything? You haven’t received anything else, have you?”

  Louis glanced at the drawer. “Uh… no, nothing else, just the receipt. What do I do with it?”

  “Send it into the accounts department of The Tower. They’ll reimburse you. The whole process takes about fifty years.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. I can’t wait fifty goddamn minutes. I’ve got no money.”

  “Then you’ve got a serious problem,” Flash Freddy said.

  Louis was stumped for a moment. Then he hit upon an idea. “Lend me some cash, will you?” he said, holding out his paw. “Don’t look so worried. I’m good for it. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my first paycheck.”

  Flash Freddy threw back his head and laughed. Louis heard scuttling footsteps behind him, then a snigger, and turned to see his PA punching numbers into his calculator at the door. If it were possible, his face looked even thinner than before. “Did you hear that, Smiggins?” Flash Freddy said, still laughing. Smiggins sniggered that he had and sat down on the sofa. “You really should be a standup, Mr. DeVille. You’re a scream.”

  Louis looked at the lizard, then at Smiggins. “What’s so funny now?”

  Smiggins glanced up from his calculator. “Your position is purely honorary.”

  Louis just stared at him. “You mean I work for nothing? I’m expected to be on the game 24-hours a day, seven days a week, and not get paid? For eternity?”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Flash Freddy said, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his scaly claw.

  “Damned to hell I will,” Louis said. “This is outrageous. It’s goddamn slavery.”

  “I didn’t hide anything from you. It’s all there in the contract.”

  “Surely I must get something. What about share options and end of year bonuses?”

  The roar of laughter from Flash Freddy and Smiggins drowned out the chatter from the Home Shopping Channel. It was a minute before they calmed down, and Louis almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. “Mr-Smiggins-requested-this-for-you-sir,” Salma Gundi said, entering with a pressed navy-gray suit in plastic wrapping. “Courtesy-of-The-Boss.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Louis said. “I can’t pay for it.”

  “You don’t have to,” Flash Freddy said, still chuckling. “The first suit is always free. It’s in the contract.” He took the suit from Salma Gundi and tipped him. He winked at Louis. “You won’t get paid any cash in this job, but you’ll find the position comes with a few added perks. The suit is just one of them. Go on, try it on.”

  While Salma Gundi returned to the reception desk, Louis excused himself and went to the bathroom. As he removed the laurel and unhitched the toga, he caught a faint whiff of rotting salmon from his armpits. “Goddamn Degradation Spray,” he muttered, and reached for the faucet at the basin. He turned on the cold. No water came out, so he turned it on full. Still nothing, not even a drip. The
same with the hot and cold ones in the shower. Absolutely-totally-undeniably-nothing. “Doesn’t anything work in this goddamn hotel?” he said, growling.

  Ramming his legs into the trousers, he heard Smiggins snigger through the door. Flash Freddy had obviously said something or made a joke, probably about him. Now you’re getting paranoid, Louis, he thought, doing up the zip. Just ignore them. There was a hole at the back of the trousers he hadn’t noticed before, and it felt kind of odd to have his tail poking out through the seam. Nevertheless, the rest of the suit fitted surprisingly well. At least he felt professional again. Santosa was right; his image was the most important thing. It felt good to be suited up and back in the game with the big boys. Damn good.

  He could now hear the muffled voice of the rat on the Home Shopping Channel telling the audience that if they rang the number on screen and paid for the steak knives, they could get another set at half price. As he knotted his tie in front of the mirror, the photo on the union card he had found flashed before his eyes. The resemblance to Aldo Fiddler really was uncanny, he reckoned, and it gave him an idea how to get out of his cashless predicament. “How do I look?” he said, exiting the bathroom.

  Flash Freddy and Smiggins were putting pills into their mouth, fixated to the screen. “Like you belong,” Flash Freddy said, barely glancing at him.

  Louis straightened his cuffs and flattened the lapels of the suit down his now slim-lined belly (Waistline, dear, it’s a waistline!). “Damn right I do! I’m ready for action.”

  Santosa suddenly burped from the doorway. Tiffany Tidbits was behind his wheelchair. “Me too! Let’s hit The Lounge Lizard. The Limo’s waiting downstairs.” Nobody moved, still glued to the Home Shopping Channel. “Come on. We’ll miss the happy hour.”