He picked up a printed copy of my latest CV and looked at it one more time. Then he chuckled. “Sorry, it’s not you I’m laughing at. It’s your last job assignment with Leather and Lace. I read some of your blog entries. Also saw your work from Berlin, Berlin. I see you like to write about the young culture and what’s hot in the city and stuff like that.” He had a rapid, staccato-like way of speaking – you never know when he was going to end.
I wanted to speak, but he continued, so I stopped myself. “That’s what I’m looking for at the moment. What I would like to see from you, as a contribution to this team, is to work with the features and critique department. What that means is that you go around to the local clubs, restaurants, concerts, grand openings of new shops and businesses, and write up how you see it and what you think about it. Use the same sort of colorful language that you often used in Leather and Lace. So, what do you think?”
Finally, a chance to speak. “I think that’s a very challenging offer, sir.”
“I didn’t offer it, Preis, I’m explaining it to you,” he said matter-of-factly. A man in complete control of the situation. “I’m calling in my editor of features and he’s going to talk to you. Wait a sec.” He picked up the phone and asked someone to come to his office. A moment later, a bald-headed black man in his mid-forties came in. I swear he looked more like a cop than a journalist. Perhaps he changed careers?
“Louis, this is Mr. Preis, who just came back from a stint in Texas. Can you take him to our desk and test him with one of your articles. Then come back to my office in about, um, fifteen minutes?”
Louis shook his head and said, “Sure thing, chief.” He shook hands with me and we went to his cubby hole, about fifty paces into the world of the Matrix and sat me down in a chaotic cubicle with a messy desk, two chairs and a laptop.
“Ok, Mr. Preis. We’re going to pretend that you already work here in this department,” he said. “I’m going to show you some pictures of a restaurant that just opened last week.” He moved the laptop closer to me so I could look at it. “Take as much time as you need, then I want you to write a review of the place, based on what your see. Make it one or two pages. I also want to see how fast you can type it up. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.” I took hold of the mouse to click around and opened an empty Word document.
“You want a cup of coffee?” He asked.
“No thanks.”
“We’ll I’m going to get one. I’ll be right back.” With that he left his cubicle.
I scanned the various pictures of the place and of the food that was photographed. It was designed to be a hangout for newly, upcoming businessmen in the downtown banking district of the city. I found the environment too sterile, with too much stainless steel, too cold for my taste. Although the food pics looked interesting and the bar was extraordinarily long. Perhaps that was the hook for attracting the bankers for lunch or for happy hour. I began my writing and was halfway done when Louis returned with the coffee, carefully observing my typing speed and skills. I didn’t mind being watched, I was used to it. I completed my review of the restaurant. I printed it for Louise to pull out and read. He sat in his chair and leaned back, looking at my work with a bunch of “uh, huh, uh hahs”. At this point I didn’t give a rat’s ass about what they thought of me. He rose from his chair and said, “Follow me.”
We returned to Garner’s office and sat down. The chief leaned back in his chair with a cup of coffee and said, “And? How was it?”
Louis handed the printout to his boss and answered, “He types fast and accurate.” Garner scanned my review with laser precision; smiled for a moment, then laughed. He placed the paper down on his desk and sat straight again, eying me. “I know you never saw the place, but guess what? The guy who wrote the review had more positive things to say about it.”
Okay, so I know where the door is at.
“But when a flood of negative reviews appeared in other papers, we had to let the son of a bitch go before our reputation was shot.”
Why did I feel like I was facing a Richard Nixon clone?
“It has humor too. We need that for our younger reading audience. You write at their level. I think you’re going to do great here. So what do you think?”
Both men smiled at me and waited for an answer.
I found Karen on the Freedom Tour at noon. She and my parents, along with the rest of the tourists, were coming out of the Old North Church on Salem Street just as the bells in the steeple were chiming. It had a very dramatic effect; she saw me first and ran to me, away from the crowd and across the street to where I was standing. She wanted to know the outcome of my interview. I hugged her and whispered in her ear. She held me tight and kissed me. Then she whispered something back into my ear. It surprised me.
“How did you know? I asked.
“Because had you had said no to the Globe while we were in Hamilton, you would have resented it the rest of your life. You had to come here and decide for yourself.”
Chapter Twenty Three
I sat behind my desk at the book shop and poured the lawyer a glass of fine Texas wine for a toast. Yes, they do make wine in Texas, not just the typical hick whiskey that tastes like rocket fuel from a redneck’s still. West Texas makes a fine Cabernet Sauvignon, and to cap it off, I was about to sign the fine print in purchasing some stock in the winery there.
After smelling the fine bouquet we took a sip of the wine together, savoring the smooth aftertaste. The attorney prepared another document to me to sign, all meticulously planned out. After opening the store over two years ago in little Hamilton, we were now ready to open a chain of Preis is Right shops in New York, Chicago, Seattle and Los Angeles; with options, after three years, to open up shops in an additional ten cities across North America, including Vancouver, Toronto and even in Mexico City.
Did I forget Boston? How could I be so dumb? I guess the hick mindset is creeping into me already. Of course Boston would have a shop as well. Anyway, I signed the documents and shook hands with the kind man. We would be going out to dinner later to celebrate. Meanwhile he wanted to go downstairs and check out the latest PlayStation games – for his son, he claimed.
I walked out of my office and leaned against the wooden railing, observing the customers roaming and reading about. Two successful years at this shop and the loan was already half-way paid off. That was an incredible feeling.
What was even more incredible was to see the beautiful glow on Karen’s face as she came up the stairs and put her arm around my waist. I eyed her body and face; she looked at me too and smiled. Her hair was now long and still bright red. Her belly was very swollen in her eighth month of pregnancy. She still had her lithe features; how that works will always remain a mystery to men. We held each other and watched the frenzy below us, like monarchs observing our kingdom, as people bought their books in long lines before the cashier desks.
And in that frenzy that can be experienced at a department store, we felt at peace with the world.
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kirk Haggerty was born and raised in Los Angeles, but has been living and working in Germany for over 20 years. He is married and has three sons.
Kirk started writing in 2009 and Heart of Texas is his fourth published novel.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
How to Steal a Lion (2012)
The Spymaster of Cologne (2013)
The Notorious Expat Wives (with Lilian Kendrick) (2014)
* * *
[1] “Sweet Home Alabama”, by Lynyrd Skynyrd. From the album ‘Second Helping’, 1974 MCA Records.
[2] "Star Trekkin" by John O'Connor (The Firm), 1987 Bark Records
[3] (Southern Joke comes from an internet video “The Dixie Download – Episode 2” Southern Women Channel)
[4] The origin of the ‘MR DUCKS’ joke is uncertain. One story is based on the founding of a bar in Ocean City, Maryland. http://www.mrducksbar.com/ocean-city-history
[5] “Thinkin’ Problem” by David Ball, 1994 Warner Bros. Nashville
[6] There are numerous articles about motorcycle club patches, such as: http://sabotagetimes.com/life/Hell’s-angels-outlaws-and-the-politics-of-the-patch
[7] The origins of the ‘Five etiquette pointers for rednecks’ have been circulating on the Internet since the 1990s. For more jokes, check out this old page: http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~skaluf/jokes/redneck.txt
Heart of Texas Page 17
