Me Again (19 page)

I stopped, thinking about what good people these friends were. “And thank you,” I said. “Seriously. Thank you very much. I couldn’t have made this trip without you.”

This got a gracious smile from Rebecca. The smile I loved, from a woman I’d never be allowed to love.

“Now, go,” I repeated, returning the smile as best I could. “I’ll see you after the show.”

With the women gone I felt less self-conscious rooting through my old belongings. I tried to be methodical, devising a plan to explore every drawer, every box. Closer examination of my desk revealed some file folders, including one containing paperwork for my car. Although the numbers didn’t make sense to me, it appeared that the vehicle was paid in full.

Also in the desk was a framed photo of Victoria, stunning as always, but noticeably less buxom than the new-and-improved Victoria who had visited me in the hospital. The photo was one of the few personal touches I encountered; nearly everything else I unearthed only offered further reinforcement of my priorities, which could be summed up as “expensive is better.” Even the boxed and stacked books I found conveyed the same message, with titles that all dwelled on generating wealth and more wealth.

The dresser did reveal one item of personal significance: while rummaging through my embarrassingly lurid underwear collection, my hand closed on a hard, smooth object that felt instantly familiar. Retracting my hand from a melee of leopard spots, tiger stripes, and black silk, I felt a rush of recognition upon seeing the small red statue in my hand.

“Buddha belly,” I said aloud.

“Nice car,” somebody replied.

I spun around to face the open doorway, where a huge figure loomed, silhouetted by the sunlight. It wasn’t until he stepped inside that I could make out his features.

“Hello, Jon-Jon,” Brandon Cox said. “Welcome home.”

Chapter 23

I
STUFFED THE BUDDHA IN MY POCKET and stammered, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Brandon said, flexing his thick neck first to one side, then the other. “I thought we had an agreement that you’d call me when you came to check out your stuff.”

“I guess I forgot,” I said. “You know, what with my memory not being very good and all.”

“Bullshit.”

It was, so I didn’t argue the point. “How did you know I’d be here? For that matter, how did you know where my storage space was?”

Brandon smiled. “I had your little brother ask your parents about that. Then I came here and gave the staff a little, you know,
incentive
to call me if you ever showed up here. It seems to have been a fortuitous investment on my part, given your
memory problems
.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, I tried to sound stern and impatient. “What do you want?”

“Three words,” Brandon said, his smile dissolving. “My fucking money.”

“I haven’t found any money,” I protested.

“Then let’s look together,” Brandon said, peeling off his suit jacket. “Based on that car right there, I’d say we’re in the right place.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “That’s not my usual car?”

This prompted a bitter laugh. “Jon-Jon, the last time I saw you, you were driving a two-year-old Lexus. Nice car and all, but not exactly a Lambo.”

“Oh.”

“And trust me, Old Fistfuckers wasn’t paying you enough to put you in a ride like
that
.”

Brandon had made his way over to the desk, where without asking, he began riffling through my drawers. He pulled out the photo of Victoria and waved it at me.

“You do know your brother is nailing her now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, “I know that.”

Brandon winced, shaking his head. “Man, that’s got to sting. I mean, that is one major piece of ass we’re talking about. Especially since she got the rack job.” A smile spread across his face. “Hell, I’d have gone for some of that myself, but your little brother beat me to it.”

“The files are in the left drawer,” I said, eager to change the subject. “That’s the only paperwork I found, and I went through everything.”

“You don’t mind if I look for myself.” It wasn’t really a question, so I didn’t answer.

Brandon gave Victoria’s photo one last leer, then tucked it back inside the desk. He pulled out a handful of files and laid them on the desk. Then he began a methodical search of the entire storage bay, looking in places that hadn’t occurred to me, even checking compartments in the car. Initially I followed him, but I eventually got bored and went and sat on the couch.

Finally Brandon emerged from the back of the bay and lumbered over to the desk. Sweat now darkened the armpits and back of his pale blue shirt, with additional dark patches growing under his “man breasts,” as I’ve heard them called in some sitcom.

“Well, you were right,” he said. “There’s nothing else here.”

Picking up the files, he maneuvered his way to the leather chair, where he plopped down with a grunt. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he said, and began to read.

Not sure what else to do, I sat silently and watched. Brandon ignored me, skimming the various papers he held, skipping back and forth from one file to another.

“You don’t have shit in the bank,” he said finally. “And it looks like you paid cash for the car. Hell, you must have just got the thing, right before your little brain-fart happened. I know
I
sure as hell never saw you in it.”

“I don’t remember it,” I said. “But I don’t remember my old car, either.”

Looking up from the files, Brandon stared at me with a combination of contempt and revulsion.

“What the fuck
do
you remember?”

For some reason I felt like leveling with him. “Hardly anything,” I said. “Not you.”

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“Not Teddy,” I continued. “Not my parents.” Nodding towards the desk, I said, “Not Victoria.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said, staring at me even more intently. “They weren’t kidding about that vegetable stuff. You’re like a fucking vegetable that can talk. What good are you?”

I said nothing, having asked myself that same question repeatedly.

After a long moment, Brandon spoke again, his voice softer. “Look, Jon-Jon – we used to be friends. I mean, I was really sorry when you had your coma and all. Not just because of the money, but because I liked you. You were my kind of people.”

I controlled a shudder, made worse by the fact that I likely
was
his kind of people.

“But you’ve got me in a bind,” Brandon continued. “You and I were making some serious money, and it’s clear that you were getting your part.” He gestured towards the car.

“I just want my part, that’s all. I don’t just want it – I need it. But it looks like you either lost it, or pissed it all away on yourself.”

Brandon’s voice dropped, a mannerism I’d learned to dread.

“Either that, or you’re playing me.”

“I’m not playing you!”

“I’d like to believe that.”

I wanted this to be over. Suddenly I wanted that more than anything.

“Take the car,” I said.

“What?”

“Take the car,” I repeated. “Hell, take anything in here.”

Brandon was squinting at me. “You’re offering me the Lamborghini.”

“Yes,” I said, “but with a condition. You take the car, and anything else in here you want, and then we’re done.”

“Done?”

“Yes, done. Meaning that you don’t come asking me for anything else. Meaning you’re out of my life, and I’m out of yours.”

“And I get the Lambo.”

“It’s all paid for, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what the paperwork said.”

“So legally I can just give it to you, can’t I?”

“We’d have to transfer the title and all, but yeah, you could do that.”

“Well, do we have a deal?” I asked, surprised by how easily I’d fallen into all this wheeling and dealing.

Brandon looked at the Lamborghini, his hand idly stroking his chin as he performed some quick mental calculations. Then he sighed heavily.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to face me. “We have a deal. I’ll have to have it towed to a mechanic, to get it all flushed and recharged and whatnot.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll confess that I was hoping he’d just get in the car and drive away, but I suppose that wouldn’t be realistic after years in storage.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll arrange for Teddy to handle that with you – I probably won’t be coming back here.”

Brandon smirked. “Teddy’s going to be pissed that you gave the car to me, and not him.”

I matched his smirk, but without the mirth. “I think Teddy already got quite enough from me, don’t you?”

This got a harsh laugh out of the big man, who now rose with effort from the chair and stepped towards me, extending his hand.

I worked my way to my feet and grudgingly shook his hand.

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Brandon said.

“And once we’re done, we’re done, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I already agreed. Once I’ve got the car, we’re done.” Brandon ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, then wiped his hand on a pant leg. “I guess there’s not a lot of point in trying to rekindle our friendship.”

“I guess not.”

Brandon reached for his jacket and began working his bulk into the garment. “What are you going to do with the rest of your stuff?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Give it away. Sell it, maybe. Did you want anything? That TV back there is pretty big, and it looks like I’ve got lots of stereo stuff.”

“No, thanks. Electronics came a long way while you were out of it. That stuff you’ve got is a joke by today’s standards. I’ll stick with the car.”

“Pinky ring?” I said, joking.

“Nope. Got that covered, too.” Brandon held up his hand, his ring even larger than the monstrosity I’d found in my jewelry box. “You do have some nice cufflinks, but they’re all monogrammed with the wrong initials for me.”

“Sorry.”

Brandon shrugged, immune to my sarcasm.

“Oh, and no offense, but you won’t have much luck selling that leather chair,” Brandon said, nodding towards the seat he had just vacated. “It may look nice, but it’s uncomfortable as hell.”

He walked to the doorway, squinting in the light shining in from outside. “So Teddy will get ahold of me about picking up the car, right?”

“I’ll set it up,” I said, thinking about what promised to be an interesting conversation with my brother.

“Don’t screw me, Jon-Jon.”

“Goodbye, Brandon.”

* * * * *

After Brandon left, I wandered around the storage bay for a little while longer, seeing if there was anything I wanted to bring home with me. I had brought a small suitcase with me for that purpose, but nothing was really calling to me. How strange, I thought, that from all the possessions I’d acquired over a lifetime, there was nothing here that appealed to me. Maybe the leather couch, although I imagined the logistics of trying to get it home to Springfield would be a nightmare.

Home to Springfield
– I thought about that phrase. It really was my home now; Chicago seemed a nice enough city to be sure, but I no longer had any reason to live up here. No, Springfield was my home now, for better or for worse. In sickness and in health.

I thought about calling Teddy, but decided I’d take care of that when I got home. We still hadn’t spoken since I found out about Victoria, and today I wasn’t really up for a big discussion about it.

I opened my suitcase and withdrew the new cell phone that Rebecca had insisted I purchase. I made sure it was turned on, then I went looking for something to read while I waited for Rebecca and Mrs. Margolis to contact me. In a nearby box I found a stack of magazines, and retrieved a glossy men’s magazine from which I gathered I could learn about how to succeed in life, love, and business, all while building “killer abs.” Wondering if the advice offered would still be up to date six years later, I sat down in the big leather chair to read.

Soon I was back on my feet. The chair really
was
uncomfortable – I felt like I was sitting on bricks. I started to move to the couch, then curiosity made me go back to examine the chair more closely. I poked the seat cushion, finding it hard and lumpy in places, soft and resilient in others.

I lifted the cushion up from the chair, feeling it from both sides. I felt distinct hard shapes under the leather, with straight, regular features. I fumbled with the cushion, finding a long zipper along one side. The zipper resisted, catching occasionally on the stuffing it contained, but I finally managed to get it open wide enough to reach a hand tentatively inside.

Groping, my fingers closed on something that felt like a small paperback book. Digging it from the soft foam stuffing that surrounded it, I managed to extract it from the leather seat cover.

In my hand I had a thick stack of dollar bills, banded tightly together. The bills all looked alike, and had the numbers
one zero zero
in each corner. Even with my minimal math skills, I knew I was looking at a lot of money.

And the seat cushion was still very, very lumpy.