Please (12 page)

It made me wonder how I would have turned out if I'd had somebody like that watching out for me.

DURING THIS TIME, Rachel began working for a chat line, the kind you see advertised on television after midnight. She told me about it when we were watching a movie in bed one night, and I asked her if it was one of those phone-sex jobs.

"Oh no, it's nothing like that," she said. "I'm just going to be talking to people."

I muted the television and sat up. "You're going to be talking to people?" I asked. "Or you're going to be talking to men?"

"Women don't really call these lines," she said. "That's why they're hiring me."

"But why do the men call?" I asked.

"Look," she said, taking the remote from my hand and turning the volume back up, "one of us has to work."

Rachel worked the night shift at the chat line. She took the bus to the call center, which was in this old hotel at the edge of downtown. The company she worked for had made some deal to rent an entire floor, and each of the operators had a separate room.

"It's like you're a prostitute or something," I said when she told me about it over breakfast after her first shift.

"It helps me get into character," she said. "I even have a name. Velma."

"What kind of name is that?" I asked.

"I think it's supposed to be Russian," she said. She spoke in a thick accent that didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. "Russians are in style these days."

"Is everyone there Russian?" I asked.

"No, we have a couple of Asians, a German, an Australian, even a Brazilian." She laughed. "But everyone playing them is white."

I went to the counter and poured myself a coffee, then went over to the kitchen window. It looked out onto the street, and for a while I watched people go past in buses or cars, on their way to or from work.

"What kind of calls do you get?" I asked.

"I had this one guy who wanted to talk about his mother," she said. "Then he asked all sorts of questions about mine."

I turned back to her. "What else did he ask about?"

"You don't want to know," she said, shaking her head and laughing.

"Yes, I do," I said.

"No, you don't."

AFTER I'D GONE to the park another few days, the man in the suit offered me a cigarette. I went over and took it, even though I don't smoke, and sat on the corner of his bench. The Rottweiler chased a Lab across the park to us, and for a moment both stopped to sniff at our ankles. I was ready to give them my sandwich, but they moved on without even growling at us.

"So what do you do?" I asked the man.

He watched the dogs a moment before answering. "I'm a broker," he said.

"Stocks?" I asked.

"Something like that," he said. He looked at me. "What about you?" he asked.

"I'm self-employed," I told him.

"All right then," he said, nodding.

We sat there in silence for a moment, him smoking and me pretending to smoke, and then I asked, "So how long have you been coming here for?"

He looked all around the park now, and for a moment he didn't answer. Then he said, "About a month."

"And she hasn't figured it out yet?"

"I have savings," he said. "I can probably go another month."

"And then what?" I asked.

"And then?" He blew smoke at the sky. "Then I guess it's over."

"I don't think I can go that long," I said.

"Oh, you'll be surprised what you're capable of," he said.

"What do you do when it rains?" I asked.

"I drive," he said.

"Drive where?"

"Nowhere."

We didn't say anything else until the cigarettes were finished, and then I said, "One of us should bring a chess set or something like that."

"Why would we want to do that?" he asked, looking back at me.

"You know, to pass the time," I said. "We could be like those people you see on television, the ones that play chess in parks all day long."

"But this isn't a permanent kind of thing," he said.

"But it could be," I said.

"I'm still working, in a way," he said. He patted the paper beside him. "I'm keeping up with the stocks. In case they call me back." When I didn't say anything, he added, "Or in case someone else calls me."

"Have you applied for any other jobs?" I asked.

"I'm doing lots of research," he said.

"Well, I still think we could play chess or something," I said.

He picked up the paper again. "I'm not one of those people," he said.

I got up and went over to the playground again. One of the women came over to where I leaned on the fence, but she was careful to stay out of arm's reach.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked.

"Are you looking for help?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"I need a job," I told her. "And I'm good with kids."

"I'll get back to you on that," she said and walked back to join the other woman.

A boy of maybe five or six went down the slide. When he reached the bottom, he looked at me. I waved at him and he waved back.

"Don't talk to strangers," the woman who'd spoken to me told him.

"I'm not a stranger," I called over to her.

The boy stared at me until the woman came over to stand between us.

"Ask the dogs," I told her. "They know me."

"If you don't leave now," she said, "I'm calling the police."

RACHEL STARTED OFF slow at her new job, only two or three nights a week, but it wasn't long before she was up to five or six nights.

"People have been requesting me," she told me as she was getting ready for work one night. "They've been phoning the main line and asking for my home number."

"They're not going to be calling here, are they?" I asked.

"I'm just going to work more shifts," she said, putting on her coat. "We may even try some different personalities."

"Why would you do that?" I asked. "It sounds like enough men are calling you now."

"We want to get the ones that aren't calling," she said, kissing me on the cheek and walking out the door.

I barely saw her at all. I slept alone in the bed most nights, and when she came home, I got up to go look for work. Once, she came home and stood at the foot of the bed, watching me until I woke up.

"What are you doing?" I asked, sitting up and staring back at her.

"I was thinking about you last night when I was talking to this guy," she said, "and I forgot what you looked like."

After maybe two weeks of this, I asked her what kind of men were calling. I was taking a bath, and she was sitting on the edge of the tub. "Are they all unemployed?" I asked. "Are any of them calling from jail or anything like that?"

She put a hand in the water and moved it around but didn't touch me. "Most of them are businessmen," she said. "At least, that's what they tell me."

"What kind of businessmen?" I asked.

"Executives away from home on business," she said. "CEOs taking a break at the office. That sort of thing."

I stared at her but didn't say anything.

"These calls are expensive," she said, taking her hand out of the water and drying it on her pant leg. "Not everybody can afford to talk to me."

I STOPPED GOING to the park after the incident with the man in the minivan. The first time I met him, he cruised around the park twice, looking in at us, before he parked on the side of the street. He sat there for another few minutes before he finally turned the engine off and got out.

He walked right up to me and stood between me and the sun, so that when I looked up at him, I couldn't see his face.

"How'd you like to make a hundred bucks?" he asked.

"Who do I have to kill?" I said, but he didn't laugh.

We went back to his van. There was a baby seat sitting loose in the back, and a couple of brightly coloured plastic rings. The man in the suit watched as we drove away. I waved at him, but he just looked back at his paper.

"So what's this all about?" I asked the other man.

"I just need you to do something for me," he said. He kept checking all his mirrors, like he thought someone was following us. "It won't take long," he added.

He drove us a few streets over, to a postal station. He parked in the lot and looked all around one more time. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a driver's licence. "I want you to go inside and open a post-office box," he said. "They'll ask you for ID. Give them this." He handed me the licence.

I took it and looked at the photo. It was a man with a beard and glasses. I didn't look anything like him. Neither did the other man.

"This is some sort of fraud, right?" I asked him.

"They don't usually look at the card all that closely," he said. "If they do, just tell them you shaved the beard since you got your licence."

"What if they don't believe me?" I asked.

"Then run," he said. "But don't run back here."

I went inside and registered for the post-office box. The woman who filled out the forms and gave me the key didn't even look at the photo on the licence, just wrote down the number. I was back in the van in under ten minutes.

"Who is this guy anyway?" I asked, handing over the licence and the key. "Is he dead?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," the other man said, looking around the parking lot. "I just borrowed it."

"Okay," I said. "Whatever. Where's my money?"

He took out his wallet, which was bulging with money, and paid me in twenties. It looked like there was a thousand dollars in there, and maybe a dozen credit cards.

"Jesus," I said. "I should just rob you here."

Now he laughed. "Where can I drop you off?" he said.

I CALLED THE CHAT LINE Rachel worked for. I bought a phone card at the convenience store down the street, so she wouldn't be able to track it to me. I turned off all the lights in the bedroom and muted the television, then called the number. When a woman whose voice I didn't recognize answered, I hung up. I called back until I got Rachel.

"Who's this?" she said when she came on the line.

"This is Jack," I said.

"Jack," she said, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was smiling. "This is Velma, Jack."

"Hello, Velma."

"Hello, Jack."

There was a creaking in the background, which I took to be the springs of the bed in the hotel room.

"So what do you do, Jack?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"What kind of job do you have?"

I didn't say anything for a moment. Then I said, "I'm a broker."

THE MAN WITH THE VAN came back the day after I first worked for him. This time he waited in the van, its engine running. I went over and opened the door. "Have you got another job for me?" I asked.

He smiled but didn't say anything. I got in.

We drove across the city, to a discount mall. He parked in front of an appliance store and took a gold card from his pocket, handed it to me. I looked at the name. Veronica Young, it said.

"Here's a list of what I want," he said, giving me a slip of paper.

I took it but didn't look at it. "But this is a woman," I said, indicating the credit card.

"If they ask, say it's your wife," he said. "But they probably won't ask."

"What happens if I get caught doing this?" I asked. "Who exactly is breaking the law here, is it me or you?"

"If they call anybody, then run," he said. "But remember, don't run back to me."

I went into the store and looked at the list. A television. Laptop computer. CD player. There was a list of specs beside each one. I found a man who worked there in one of the aisles and gave him the list. "This is what I need," I said. "For my wife."

He helped me load up a cart with the boxes and I took it to the cash area. The woman who rang everything through didn't look at me or the card. I had to leave the cart in the store, so I carried everything just outside the door and waited for the man in the van to pick me up.

We loaded the boxes into the back of the van, beside the baby seat. "If you want me to keep doing this," I said, "you're going to have to pay me more."

He smiled at me again. "Just a couple of days on the job," he said, "and already you're asking for a raise."

I PAID RENT with the money that I made working during the days. When Rachel asked me where the money came from, I told her I had some money in savings. What I didn't spend on rent, I spent on phone cards so I could talk to her at night.

I liked to talk to her about my job. That is, I liked to talk to her about Jack's job. "I administer various funds," I told her when she asked what was involved in being a broker. "I make sure we're always getting the highest returns on our investments."

"That doesn't sound very exciting," she said.

"It's not," I said. "But with my salary, I can buy whatever I want."

"That sounds much better," she said.

"In fact, I'd like to buy you dinner some night," I said.

"But we barely know each other," she said.

"What better way," I said.

"Where would we go?" she asked.

"One of the places downtown," I said. "The kind where you can only get in if they know you."

"And do they know you?" she asked.

"They all know me," I said.

"What about dress codes and all that?" she said. "I don't really have anything fancy."

"I'll buy you a nice dress," I said. "Wherever you want."

"A designer boutique," she said. "I've always wanted to shop at one of those."

"Fine," I said. "Then we'll go out to dinner."

"Someplace with martinis," she said. "If you're in a fancy dress, you should be drinking martinis."

"All right," I said.

"And people doing drugs in the bathroom. The good kind."

"And we eat the most expensive meal they have," I said.

"What would that be?" she asked.

"Something from another country," I said. "Something endangered."

"And for dessert," she said, "something flaming."

"I pay for it all," I said, "and then I take you back to your place."

"You move quick, don't you?" she said.

"And I kiss you on the doorstep," I said.