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.