Brokenhearted in Bakersfield
58 - BACK TO BUSINESS
Slowly I returned to a
familiar semblance of consciousness, aroused by the sandpaper tongue of a
kitten scraping the end of my nose. Damn
that Owen. His damn cats was damn near
everywhere.
“Hey, partner, drink this.”
Speak o’ the devil himself.
Owen was waiting to hand me a steaming cup of dissolved coffee crystals. “So? Didja find that sister of yours? Who is she, anyhow? Do I know her?”
“Yes. None of your damn business. And better than you should.”
I scowled up at Owen while pulling myself into a sitting position. “Ya think I could get to enjoy my morning cup
of mud first before ya come at me with a bunch of nosey questions?” Clearly, I was in no mood. “People say I ain’t fit to talk to before my
first cuppa coffee, ya know.”
Owen raised his hands and backed away.
“I’m just trying to look out for our best interests, is all. Here, have a beer with that coffee.” He was toting a six-pack. “This’ll improve your mood while the caffeine
gets your engine started.”
Owen cracked open a cold one and passed it down. “Partner, I got us an appointment with our
broker,” he grinned.
I pried my lips from the coolness of the can.
“I thought they mailed what was left of him back to Idaho?”
“Not that loser. I got an idea you’ll be
pleasantly surprised. Now, go get
yourself presentable while I wrap up a little present for our new financial
consultant.”
With that, Owen scooped up the nearest kitten he could grab and put it into a
brown paper bag.
Wasn’t no time at all me and Owen and a cat in a paper sack was sitting in the
back of a cab headed into town. I tell
you, Broken Heart Park ain’t never seen so many cabs coming and going as since
I got me some money (although I was getting a bit concerned about the cash
flow). Anyway, that ol’ Owen sure knows
how a rich man’s supposed to live.
Funny thing, though, is how I been here for all these years and I hardly ever
got downtown, feeling most at home in the suburbanized fringes of the urban
hub. I didn’t recognize where we was
except I knew it was all Bakersfield.
There was just one big wide street after another big wide street,
simmering in the sun, and all of ‘em was lined with buildings four or even five
stories high. The cab dropped us off at
one of these buildings, where a sign said:
RobbinsYUZ, Corp.
Me and Owen entered through the big brassy doors. The inside was painted to look like marble,
and real classy marble, too, the way some of it looked cracked. There was lots of heavy light fixtures just
like an old-fashioned bank in a movie.
We rode in an iron elevator that was large enough for both of us, right
up to the second floor where we got off. In front of us was an office door with
golden letters:
Margaret T. Gato
Financial Advisor
We walked right into a big room that was entirely lined with polished
wood. A young dude sitting at the
receptionist’s desk looked up at us. A
minute or two passed before he raised an eyebrow and said, “Yessss?”
Owen gave him an overtly friendly grin, considering the dude’s airs. “Yes, I’m Owen Purty, and this is….”
The receptionist dude got himself unstuck from that office chair and jumped to
his feet like there was a fire started under his ass. “Yes sir.
Right this way, sirs. Please, go
right on in, Ms. Gato’s been expecting you gentlemen.” While Owen went straight into the adjoining
office, I took my time and slow walked past the dude with the pompous attitude.
Owen presented the squirming sack in his outstretched hand, “Maggie, I’ve got
an office-warming present for you.”
(Right then I realized, sweet baby Jesus, it was dead Chuck Dookie’s secretary,
Maggie Gato.)
She reached out her hand and smiled.
Owen handed her the bag.
Maggie cautiously opened the gift bag and peeked in. She turned around and walked to a nearby
cabinet, dropping the sack with the kitten into an empty file drawer. Then Maggie slammed the drawer shut and
looked around her office. Her sweeping
gaze included Owen and me.
Looking around himself, Owen tilted his ball cap back and let out a long
whistle. “Hot damn, you got yourself
some real nice digs here, Maggie.”
“It’s a step up from the other place, that’s for sure,” she nodded
approvingly. “And when I told the
landlord who my biggest client was, you’d be amazed at the deal I got.”
Owen and Maggie both laughed.
Owen sat smiling. Maggie sat smiling. I sat smiling. The sun smiled through the tall windows
making all the shiny wood in Maggie Gato’s office glow. I felt warm and cozy just being there.
Maggie cocked her head and looked deeply into my eyes. I couldn’t help my fascination with how her long
brown hair fell down over her shoulders and brushed against the open collar of
her blouse. My eyes drifted to her
cleavage.
“Honeypot,” she gestured to me. “Up
here.”
I looked up into her milk chocolate eyes.
“I got some papers for you to sign. Okay?”
“’K.”
“First thing, we’ve got to get this paper signed. It authorizes me to be your financial
advisor, and to take care of your business for you.”
“’K.”
“And this one’s a contract. And this
one’s for Owen. And here’s another one.”
“’K.”
My senses tingled. My eyes burrowed into
the moist depth of Maggie’s bosom, and my nostrils was filled with a pleasing whiff
of her perfume.
“What’s this one?” I tried to sound
businesslike.
“Honeypot, that’s just the Power-of-Attorney for your lost half-sister’s share
of the RobbinsYUZ stock. That way we
don’t need to be bothering her with details until she shows up.” Maggie leaned forward across the desk,
placing her hand over mine. “You know,
she probably wouldn’t understand all this business stuff as well as you men do
anyhow, so we’ll take care of it for her, okay?” With her other hand Maggie pulled out a
pen. “Now, you just sign her name right
there on the dotted line, and we’ll take care of everything for her, okay?”
Slowly Maggie rose from her seat and leaned even further forward to show me
where to put my name. My hand trembled
as I reached for the pen and I prayed I’d find the dotted line without
embarrassment. I didn’t have to worry
none, Maggie was more’n happy to guide my hand for me.
Long seconds later, when my heart stopped pounding so hard in my chest, I
remembered to ask my most important question, “Maggie, you said this RobbinsYUZ
company owns Broken Heart Park? Is that
still a fact?”
She smiled as she leaned back in a big leather chair. “Honeypot, they own dozens of Broken Heart
Parks all over the country, not just yours.”
She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and ran one finger slowly
down her neck, only stopping when she finally reached the first closed button
on her blouse. “Honeypot, there’s a
Broken Heart Park in nearly every town in America.”
“I’m not interested in any other Broken Heart Parks. Just my own.
You think these people would talk to me about it?”
Maggie’s eyes sparkled. She put one
elbow on her desk and cradled her chin in her hands. She looked at Owen while she replied direct
to me, “As a matter of fact, they’re really interested in talking to you. That’s why we’re all flying out for a meeting
at the parent company’s headquarters.”
She smiled, “Not everyone owns 1.5 million shares.”
Maggie and Owen laughed some more. I’m
thinking, there’s finally someone to watch over me like a personal guardian angel.