The Royal Family (27 page)

Have you ever discovered something about a person you’ve wished you didn’t know?

Stop it!

Well, are you better off knowing or not knowing? I’m trying to help you, ma’am.

I want to know. I need to know.

Well, then, you already do know. I’ll tell you why. First of all, if you suspect it, it’s probably true. Whether or not they’re having intercourse together, they’re doing
something.

Oh, my God, wept the woman.

Think about it. If you still want me to check your husband out, call me in the morning.

The woman never called again. Tyler went to bed and for some reason dreamed of John’s angry face.

But after that, he began to have good fortune. He got two adultery cases in one afternoon, with satisfying retainers for each. Neither one made his heart ache. The landlord came over and fixed the toilet for the second time and it didn’t leak after that. On Monday evening he called Dan Smooth.

Well, are we ready to dot the i’s? said Brady. This is an obnoxious place. Who designed this place? I wouldn’t eat dinner here if you paid me. Well, maybe if you paid me. I’m not that particular.

John laid down the legal draft. —What’s the consolidated leverage ratio? he asked.

We’ll get to that.

John thought this red-faced entrepreneur to be a true original, a driven winner who did not need any other human being to make
him
full partner. Brady’s manner and his grand project exuded a sense of freedom which made John dream about someday trying his own luck in the financial jungle, of throwing up law and making millions by discovering or creating new desires in his fellow citizens. Was Brady playing a clean game? Well, in business how could games be clean? For that matter, weren’t all life’s gamepieces equally ordure-stained? How had Irene treated him? And that crooked Hank . . .
Perhaps what really attracted him to Brady was the other man’s rage. (At the same time, of course, the man bored him, because everybody bored John.)

And another thing, Mr. Brady, he said. I’ll need a more thorough financial statement. Now, this revolving credit facility you’re talking about here, that’s fine, but I need you to break down these quarterly fees. That’s a lot of money right there.

I promise you this, said Brady. We’re going to keep a pretty goddamned low overhead expense to sales ratio. And we’re gonna keep our eyes on the gross margin returns.

Fine, but that has nothing to do with quarterly fees.

I honestly don’t know about that one, son. Let me find out.

No problem, said John making two tickmarks on the yellow pad. He was particularly fond of his mechanical pencil, which, slender, octagonal in cross-section, and gunmetal-hued, with inlaid lozenges of rosewood, had been a present from Irene. —And we still need clarification on some employee issues.

What issues? said Brady in surprise. What employees? It’s all going to be virtual reality, remember?

That’s fine, said John. But what about the bartenders, waitresses, hostesses, janitors?

Some day they’ll all be robots, Brady said dreamily. You know, I had lunch with that Alexis Dydynski, a very intimate lunch. Know who he is?

No, I don’t, Mr. Brady, said John, looking at his watch.

Executive Vice President at the Royal Grand. You remember when that place opened? Oh, it was a big brouhaha, but that’s another story. It’s not my policy to tell more than one story at a time. Anyway, Dydynski said to me:
Slot machines don’t ask for raises, don’t get pregnant, don’t get sick, and always show up for work. —
And I thought to myself, John: Here is one smart man.

All right, said John patiently. See if you can get a formal employee policy together. —And he made another tickmark on the yellow pad. —Now if you would, Mr. Brady, I’d like you to glance over clause three.

I don’t give a shit about that part, either, said Brady. That part is your job. Just make it all ironclad. This business is going to last hundreds of years. I’m thinking big.

What’s the working lifetime of your virtual staff?

Oh, five years. Maybe less. But in five years we’ll want to update the theme park with even more state-of-the-art experiences. Look. The theme park only cost three hundred and eighty-seven million. The real question is this and I hope you’re considering it: Who’s against us?

I don’t know what you’re talking about, John said.

Look. Every business venture has friends and enemies, right? So who are our enemies? Casinos? Department of Parks and Recreation? Gambling Commission? Women’s organizations? Rightwing Christians? Leftwing Christians? The Teamsters? I want this document to be
enemy-specific.
Do you see what I’m driving at?

You sound apprehensive, Mr. Brady.

Well, of course there’ll be various claims and actions against the company. But I don’t think they’ll have a leg to stand on. If they do, why, young John, you and I can kick that leg out from under . . .

Not my department. By the way, I think you ought to insist on the right to extend your leases up to at least fifteen years, John said.

At escalated rents?

Well, Mr. Brady, of course they’ll have to be escalated, unless you hold a gun to their heads. But that’s fine. If you lost the lease, you’d be paying escalated rents at a new site anyway.

All right, we’ll cut a deal. Let’s meet for breakfast at the Mark Hopkins on Wednesday, seven a.m. I’ll do my homework on consolidated leverage, employee guidelines and quarterly fees. You do yours on
enemies.

John walked back to the office and told Mr. Singer that the Brady contracts were going to bring in many, many more billable hours.

I love the law, said Mr. Singer.

•

Matthew said, “Lord, I want to see that place of life where there is no wickedness, but rather there is pure light.”

 

The Lord said, “Brother Matthew, you will not be able to see it as long as you are carrying flesh around.”

 

 

G
NOSTIC
S
CRIPTURES
,
Dialogue of the Savior,
III, 5, 27–28 (2nd cent.)

•

Again he drove to Sacramento with its black parking lots given meaning by cars, its malls so thoroughly placed and identical in composition that every three or four miles one thought to be back at the same retail outlets no better or worse than the cigarette-burned pillowcases of San Francisco’s whore hotels; and the night was hot and still. His mother slept. Dan Smooth sat out on his back porch on Q Street, drinking rum.

Right on time, said Smooth, or at least I presume you’re on time, because I can’t see my watch. It’s been a bad summer for gnats, I’m sorry to say.

Well, maybe the next one will be better.

Spoken like an optimist—hee, hee! And I’m just the opposite. I know I’m not your type, but you can’t do without me, can you?

I’ll hold judgment on that, Dan.

And did you decide anything?

Yes, I did.

Well, tell me about it later. She moves around a bit, you see, Smooth explained. Hops around, like a lap dancer. You can’t always say where she is, but you can
find
where she is, if you see the distinction.

Yeah, I get it, said Tyler, longing to look at his watch. He thought of the old criticism of Wagner: great moments and horrible half-hours. With Smooth the moments were horrible, too.

You plan to fuck her?

Well, your photo didn’t really turn me on, Dan. No offense. I’m sure she’s a nice Queen, though. I guess I’d just as soon keep it all business.

What does turn you on, Henry? queried Smooth, something moving in his face like the crawling silver shadows on a barmaid’s chin of the change which she is counting behind her half-wall.

As I said, I’d rather keep this thing professional.

Oh, get off your high horse! What are you afraid of? Don’t you realize that you have the look in your eyes of a man who has sexual relations with prostitutes, and don’t you know that other men who do the same can always pick you out? You bear the Mark of
Cain,
brother!

Tyler grimaced.

Have a shot, Henry?

All right.

There. Now what turns you on?

What turns
you
on, Dan? Child molesting?

I want to tell you something. I can tell a great deal about a man by his face. Not just his eyes, but his entire face. His mouth, for instance. I like to inspect a man’s mouth. I
can see from your mouth that you like to go down on women. I can see all their itty-bitty pubic hairs stuck between your teeth! (Oh, I could talk endlessly about textures. Maybe I don’t have a moral sense, but that’s normal. Maybe I do have one, but if so where did I put it?) I see I forgot to offer you a shot. Help yourself. Well, as I was saying, how do I know you don’t suck guys? Well, because you never did come on to me, and I know I’m quite attractive. Elementary, as Sherlock used to say. You don’t like me, do you, Henry? I can tell that from the color of your nose. You see, most other men, if they want something from me, they brown-nose me a little. Why else do you think my asshole’s so clean and shiny? They pretend not to mind—oh, they just have to pretend. Grin and bear it when I talk about what I talk about. But your nose is a good honest pink drinker’s nose, and not a bit of shit on it. Now, as for your ears, Henry, I regret to tell you this, but you have
envious
ears. I’m not going to tell you how I know that, though, because old Dan Smooth’s got to have a few secrets in this world, just to keep the ears of his fellow man envious. And as for children, to answer your question, no, I can’t tear myself away from them. If I were going to be marooned on a desert island and I could take only one food with me, you know what it would be? The earwax of a ten-year-old child.

What if it came out of envious ears? said Tyler.

Interesting case! But you still haven’t answered my question.

That’s just how Brady used to talk to me.

Maybe because we each have something you need. Maybe my ageing eyesight’s not so good. Maybe there’s brown on your schnozz after all, brother. Maybe there’s brown stuff packed way up between your nostrils—

All right, Dan. What turns me on is a sincere woman. That’s all.

And what does she smell like?

You know, Dan, a lot of people on this earth fall in love with each other first and then have sex afterward.

But not you, Henry—ha, ha, not you! Remember, I can see your Mark of Cain glowing right now in this darkness! It’s brighter than my bug-zapper light! So don’t lie to me, buddy, because we’re both children of the same wicked God. Are you trying to deny that you care what they smell like?

That’s right.

How about a high-grade armpit? Like roast coffee, almost—well, it depends on the—

Usually I shake hands instead of sniffing armpits, Dan.

Oh, then he likes mannish women. Office types, in executive blazers. But they use deodorant. Old Dan doesn’t like that one bit. And you say it doesn’t matter?

It’s not my number one concern.

So you’d do it with anyone then. You’d fuck anybody no matter how she smells. Talk about perversion. Talk about obscenity. This man dares to get sarcastic with me because I have certain fantasies regarding children, when he himself is nothing but a—I have no words—a mere functionary! There’s something inconsistent about you—yeah, yeah, something
brutally untrue.
And you deny it; you deny your own animal nature. I disgust you, but what’s inside your guts? Children of the same God, I said! And the Queen, she can see your Mark of Cain! That’s why she stayed away from you, because she’s good. Whatever she does, she—oh, what’s the use of explaining it to you? You don’t see me as a human being; I’m just your way station. So. Where’s my reward?