Authors: Paul Watkins
Sheri is looking at me rather intently right now, stirring me out of my reverie. I smile and attempt to change the subject.
“I hope I can join you and Mr. Jackson on your run sometime. What time do you usually go?”
“Late morning is best for us. A.J. isn’t a very early riser. In his business he often stays up late, so he’s on a different schedule than the rest of the world. But you’re welcome to join us anytime.”
“I’m afraid late morning wouldn’t do for me. I have work to do during the day, so I’ll have to get my running in a bit earlier.”
Sheri nods. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime, if I don’t get that husband of mine going, it will be afternoon before we get started.”
She finishes her juice, rinses her glass and places it on the counter. Waving good-bye, she leaves the room with a bounce in her step. Now it’s time for me to get back to work. Next on the agenda, meet the security guys.
My secret agent, Martha, told me there are two security men, or, at least, people who perform that function, on the staff: Steve Marshall and the man I met the first day, ‘Bear’ Street. They are personal bodyguards for A.J. and apparent long-time friends. Although Martha did not say much about the men, she volunteered the fact that the one called Bear, bothered her. She thinks he is very rough, and mean to boot. She says everyone gives this guy a wide berth. No sense courting trouble. What little I’ve seen of him, I can understand their reaction.
Leaving the kitchen, I see two men talking near an open door to the garage. Marshall and Street, no doubt. This will be a good opportunity to talk with them for a minute and then take a look at the apartments over the garage. The men have spotted me as I cross the drive and they stop talking as I approach.
It’s time for my formula winning smile and standard greeting: “Hello, I’m Philip Richards… the new manager here… I’m trying to meet all the other members of the staff today.”
With this I extend my hand to the man I believe to be Steve Marshall. Tall, lean with a gym-built body, he accepts my handshake in a half-hearted manner, mumbles his name and looks away. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but I’ve had better beginnings. I might as well ignore his rather boorish behavior and try my luck with the big boy to my right. Once again I extend my hand, but before I can say anything…
“We know who you are, mister boss-man.”
The man called ‘Bear’ is rather menacing and he clearly has no intention of shaking hands or engaging in any other civilities. I leave my hand hanging in the air for a moment, then drop it and try another tack.
“Well as long as we are all here, we might as well…”
“We might as well get somethin’ straight right now, mister boss-man,” Bear interrupts. “We might as well get you to understan’ tha’ anythin’ you have to say to us,” he nods towards Marshall, “don’ mean shit. I know what A.J. said about you bein’ in charge of us. Tha’s all booshit, man. We been aroun’ too long to take orders from anybody but the man hisself… and maybe not even then. Now do you understan’… mister boss-man?”
Speech finished, Bear steps forward and stabs his sausage-like index and middle fingers into my chest, shoving me a step backwards in the process.
“I expect an answer when I talk to you, mister boss-man,” he says, menace in his voice, as he steps forward and pokes me in the chest again, this time much harder than the first.
Again I take an involuntary step backward. Fighting for control, I keep my voice calm and steady as I reply, “Please don’t touch me. Not now, not ever again. If you want to talk to me, feel free, but keep your hands to yourself.”
Bear studies me with a look that is both astonished and amused. He looks over at Marshall who has edged a few feet to the side in an apparent attempt to distance himself from this whole affair.
“I don’ think our little boss-man here heard me. Either that, or he’s crazy.”
He turns and looks at me with his hands on his hips. Then he makes sort of a snorting sound as he chuckles and shakes his head.
Marshall looks a little uncomfortable. Shifting his weight to the other foot he says, “Why not lay off, Bear? We’re just going to piss off A.J. Leave him be… he ain’t worth the trouble.”
Now there’s an endorsement for you… ‘ain’t worth the trouble’. The only thing that makes it worse is that it’s coming from a standup guy who shakes my hand with less authority than some guy finishing off a long leak. My grandfather said it well, save me from the people who are trying to save me.
Bear snaps his head towards Marshall. He makes a face and snarls, “Fuck you, man! If I wanchur two cents, I’ll slap it outa ya’. If you don’ like wa’s goin’ down, get the hell outahere!” His attention returns to me. “Meantime, I’m gonna slap some manners into the boss-man here.”
With this he again steps towards me and shoves with his two-finger prod. This time I’m ready for it and I step back to reduce the impact. Bear’s prod is like getting shoved with a pole.
“Last time, Bear,” I say, “keep your hands to yourself.”
Bear’s eyes grow wide and his nostrils flare as he smiles in disbelief. He’s obviously enjoying himself. Most bullies do when they think they have easy pickings.
“Kiss my ass, boss-man,” he says with a sneer, “I’ve already had enough of yo’ shit! I’ll touch you all I want, anytime I want. Hear what I’m sayin’?” And out comes the two-finger prod once more.
By now I’ve had enough of his shit. I step to my left and block Bear’s prod with my left hand, simultaneously grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards me. Surprised and caught off balance, he stumbles forward. Bear’s right side is exposed as I release his arm and strike with my right fist just below the rib cage. Bear bellows with rage and fights to regain his balance. He’s wide open as I send a sidekick to his right knee. I don’t want to break his leg, although it would be easy enough to do from this angle, but he’s badly hurt by the blow. Instinctively bending over to grab his injured knee, Bear presents his head as my next target. Everything seems to go in slow motion as I chamber my right leg at waist level and strike him in the face with a powerful kick that lands square on his nose. Blood sprays in the air as if from a squashed tomato. Bear slides down on his haunches… he’s half sitting with his right hand on his knee and his left hand on his face.
Clearly, he’s at my mercy, which, unfortunately for him, is in short supply. I have no illusions as to what he would have done to me if the fight had gone the other way. I chamber my leg once again and deliver a frontkick to his groin. It’s a tough angle, but I manage to get the job done. The big man is finished as he rolls over on the ground, curled into the fetal position and moaning quietly. I confess, I can’t help but feel pleased by the blood flow from his nose. That honker is going to be a beaut’ for some time to come.
Marshall seems too stunned to move as I circle and face him. I settle into a position called a peace move, sort of half squatting with my hands at blade angles… my right hand near my right ear and my left hand near my left thigh. I can move from here into any number of positions, offensive or defensive. I challenge Marshall. If he’s going to come at me, we might as well get it over with right now.
“Up to you, Steve. You want to be a hero or are you a little more intelligent than your buddy here?”
Marshall glances at Bear and then looks back at me. “I’ve got no beef with you, man.” He quickly looks away.
I slowly straighten up and resume a normal posture, all the time keeping Marshall squarely in my sights.
“I prefer to be called, Philip.” I point to Bear. “Call an ambulance and have him treated. Also, call the police. I’m preferring charges.”
For the first time Marshall shows some signs of life.
“You’re preferring charges? What the hell for, you nearly killed him!”
“Just in case he gets any bright ideas down the road as to who attacked whom, I want it all on the record. As for making the calls, if you want to keep on working here, please take care of it. Since you are both friends of Mr. Jackson, I will want you with me when I tell him I have fired Mr. Street.”
I walk over to Bear and nudge him with my toe. The big man lets out a groan, but doesn’t move.
“You’re fired, Bear.”
Marshall steps forward as I turn to leave… hands raised in the air, it’s clear he has no hostile intent.
“You want me to take sides against Bear? He’ll kill me.”
“Would you prefer to take sides against the man who just beat him?” I ask with no attempt to limit the sarcasm in my voice. “Actually, I do not want you to take sides against anyone. However I do want you to tell the truth as to what happened here. Make the calls and see me in the library as soon as the ambulance leaves. When you talk to the police, tell them they do not have to come here unless they want to. I will be happy to go to the station.”
Marshall stands as if rooted to the spot, immobilized by indecision. “Make your choice, Steve, I’m running short of patience. If I wind up making the calls, then I’m going to have to think real hard to come up with a reason to keep you around.”
Marshall turns and walks towards the garage. It will not be long before I learn what choice he has made. Making the calls is really a test. I can take care of it myself, but it’s time for Mr. Marshall to grow up. I suspect he’s been following around in Bear’s footsteps for sometime now and that’s going to have to change if he’s going to be of any use to me. I can’t be dealingwith conflicting allegiances. He’s either on our team or on some other team. I want to know which one it’s going to be and now is a good time to find out. I step around Bear and head back to the house to report to Mr. Jackson. My new job may have just come to a rather untimely end. Dammit! Things were going real well for a while there. Almost made it through themorning.
***
As I reach for the kitchen door it opens, the door handle eluding my grasp. Martha stands before me with a meat cleaver in her hand and defiance in her eyes. I stop dead in my tracks not knowing quite what to say, or if I should say anything at all. She doesn’t like Bear, but there may be a black/white thing going here.
“I thought for a minute I was going to have to come out there and save your white butt,” she says without smiling. “I saw the whole thing… in case anybody wants to know.” A slow easy smile spreads across her face. “Where did you learn that Kung Fu shit?”
Kung Fu again. What the hell is it with Kung Fu around here?
“Look, Martha,” I begin, “I had a little problem and I had to fire Bear. Things got out of hand… somewhat… I just want you to know that what happened out there isn’t really me… that’s not the way I like to handle things.”
Martha steps back from the doorway, and then walks to the island and places the meat cleaver on a rack.
“Look, Philip, if you ever want to fire Martha, you just tell me you don’t need me anymore. I’ll go and pack my bags without a word and leave quietly… you don’t have to do any of that Kung Fu shit with me. I’ll just go.”
“Martha, look… listen to me… what happened out there was unfortunate, it… “
“Unfortunate! I like that. If anybody asks me what happened to Bear, I’ll tell them what happened was ‘unfortunate’. What a nice word. Is that a word you learn in them fancy schools? When you kick somebody’s ass you say it was unfortunate? Well ol’ Bear got a bad case of the unfortunates… he sure did.” Martha chuckles and looks out the window at Bear’s inert form. “Are you going to call an ambulance? I wonder if they have something in their bag for a real bad dose of the unfortunate.”
She continues to giggle, her round frame shaking with the effort. No longer even trying to maintain her stern look, it’s clear she’s going to make the most of the situation… swat me around for a while before letting it go. For my part, this conversation is going nowhere. I wave my hand at Martha and start to leave, but then remember that I want her to give a message to A.J. for me. I want to meet with him in the library when he returns. The last thing I need is for him to find out about all this commotion from someone else.
“Martha, will you tell Mr. Jackson I would like to meet with him in the library as soon as possible after he returns from his run? I’ll tell the maid upstairs.”
“Don’t bother,” Martha replies, “I’m going upstairs in a minute. I’ll take care of it.”
I thank Martha and head for the library. I can hear her mumbling some nonsense in the kitchen, but I’ve had enough of her philosophy for a while. I will never get her to understand this thing anyway, so why bother trying?
Sometime later I see the ambulance leave and Steve Marshall comes to the library. He walks to a corner and sits down, obviously in no mood for conversation. We sit in uneasy silence for the next ten minutes waiting for A.J. to return. Finally there’s a noise in the foyer as the Jacksons enter the house, followed by a lower volume conversation. Evidently A.J. is getting the word that we are waiting for him in the library. I rise in anticipation of his entrance. Marshall stays seated, apparently very interested in the floor space between his feet. A.J. enters and walks briskly to his desk.
“I understand you have a little problem.” He throws this over his shoulder as he rounds his desk, spins his chair and sits in one easy motion. “What’s up boys… someone hurt someone’s feelings?” The last is polished with a big grin.
I don’t know what he thinks at this point, but I might as well get it out and over with.
“I’ve fired Mr. Street.”
A.J. pops to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. He leans forward, his knuckles supporting him on the desk like a predator sizing up his next meal.
“You what? You fired Bear?” His look contains more surprise than anger. “I’ll fire your ass first,” he continues. “Bear has a job here anytime he wants it. You’re letting this manager thing go to your head, my man.”
Now smiling, he turns to Steve Marshall. “Stevie, I’m afraid our newest employee doesn’t quite understand how things work around here.” Steve doesn’t reply and A.J. lets his gaze linger only a moment before turning back to me. “Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into having these people report to you. They’re too much for you… too physical.” He gestures towards Marshall, “These are strong young studs who watch out for my ass. I’m afraid you’re just not up to running this end of things, Phil.”