Remembering Hell (10 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Poor Joe. He looks like reheated
shit these days. Construction work is not agreeing with him. On the other hand,
I do think he might be warming up to me. At least he hasn’t tried to ditch me
for a day or two. We have also managed to get past the small talk and we are
well into the playful banter stage of our relationship. Of course, most of the
playful banter is at my expense, but why should he be any different than anyone
else, right? Nonetheless, I feel like he is much more comfortable with me since
we had that little heart to heart. I’m still keeping a lot of information close
to the vest, and he, with his mad reporter skills, knows this. Most of it is
regarding Deedy. But it is easy for me to do, because I know what is in store
for him.

Today we walk to the construction
site in a comfortable silence. I certainly know why I don’t feel like talking,
but I am wondering why he’s so introspective this morning.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I say.

But Joe just gives me a sad smile. “Not
even worth that much,” he responds. Then he says, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” I say with caution. Of
course he can ask me any question. I’m just not sure that I am willing to
answer every single one.

“What exactly do you do all day,
while I’m at work?”

I look at him with a wide smile.
“I’m off repairing elevators and stuff.”

“And I am supposed to believe that
even if that were true, there would be that many broken elevators? Or that even
if they were broken, that the owners would want them to be fixed?”

I just laugh. “I never said it was
a difficult job.”

“Really, Louise, I wanted to talk
about…you know.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, Deedy. I know you work for
him.”

I have yet to confirm or deny that,
and I am not about to now. “Do you wish I wasn’t here, Joe?”

“No. I’m getting used to you.” Joe
smiles at me again.

“Then stop questioning why I am
here,” I say, casually brushing this line of questioning aside. “And instead
tell me about construction.”

“I’d rather not.” He laughs. “Can
you at least tell me something you have planned for the day? It might give me
something to think about other than the fact that I’m sweating like a beer can
at a summer picnic already.”

“That tie can’t help matters any. I
get the whole suit thing, and the dress shoes really are a nice touch. But why
did you wear the jacket and tie?”

“Everything is connected. There is
no way to take part of it off. It looks like a three piece suit, but in reality
it is a one piece suit.” Joe just looks helpless.

“It really is kinda brilliant, in a
completely sadistic way,” I say, touching the fabric.

“So? What’s on your schedule for
today?” he says.

“Today I’m searching for someone.
Lugner. I want to try to figure out what he’s up to.”

“Hey, I meant to ask you. Is he an
attorney?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I answer, looking
at him hopefully.

“Well, my construction site is
across from a law office. And Lugner is one of the names on the shingle. Davis,
Morgan, and Lugner. Now, there could be a ton of Lugners down here, obviously.
But it seems like a good place to start,” Joe says.

“Cool! I start there first.” This
is exciting. I am bound to find him before he finds me again. If he wants to
play mind games, then he’s met his match. No one plays mind games better than a
woman who managed to stay jobless for the entire forty-five years she was
alive.

Joe’s interrogation brings up the
lingering question in my own mind too. What if Lugner does work for Deedy and
is supposed to be keeping an eye out for me? A compelling thought that makes me
want to find Lugner even more than before.

After dropping Joe off at his site
I first go in search of coffee. Yes, I am spoiled by my Heaven zip code and
cannot imagine drinking a cup of coffee from my old stomping grounds, but I
really need a caffeine boost. I stop by a small coffee shop and order a cup of
their house blend. Their house blend is a cross between used motor oil and
melted eyeliner pencil. I manage to choke most of it down as I sit and let Hell
walk by me for a while. I figure a law office won’t be hopping until mid-morning.

Once I am done, I go back to Joe’s
site, cross the street and find myself standing in front of a law office. I
look at the sign and close my eyes. Can it really be this easy? Please let it
be this easy. I stare at the name on the shingle. An archangel posing as an
attorney in Hell? Guess it’s no different that posing as a receptionist. Or God
himself owning a temp agency.

I swing open the door and come face
to face with a foul looking woman who turns from her desk to glare at me.

“Hi. I’m looking for Mr.…” I say,
avoiding her glare.

She registers surprise. “Do you
have an appointment?”

“No. We met recently, and I just
wanted to follow up with him. Is he here?” Why won’t she just tell me if he’s
around? Damn, I hate gate keepers.

She steps closer to me and looks me
up and down. “Are you here to sign a contract?”

What kind of contract would I
possibly be signing after just meeting him? “No, we have not discussed any
particulars,” I say, giving away no information but still relaying a sense of
urgency.

“Oh. Well then, I must be confusing
you with someone else,” she says, still not smiling.

“Can I see him?” I am pretty sure
I’ve asked that several times.

“No, he is not here.” And that’s
that. Now she’s done with me.

But I’m not done with her. “Are you
expecting him back today? Would it be better for me to wait or to make an
appointment to come back?” That’s my polite way of saying I’m not going
anywhere, bitch.

“Not if he’s not expecting you.
He’s not here. He’s almost never here.” Then she turns away from me and looks
to her side as if she cannot stand to look at me any longer. And then she says,
quite rudely, “Just go home!”

“Fine! You don’t have to get shitty
about it,” I say, then I turn to leave.

Suddenly out of the corner of my
eye I see a pink flash, and get overwhelmed by a familiar feeling. Out of my
peripheral vision I see her. Linda is here! When I turn to see her, she
disappears. I run outside. Did she come out here? I look up and down the street
but there is no trace. Did I just imagine her? I don’t think so. This feeling
is so strong, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. And if I were going
to imagine Linda, I highly doubt that I would imagine her in a pink track suit.
Obviously she was dressed by her Hell closet! This was real. She was here.

But now she is nowhere to be seen.
I even shout out her name outside, but of course there is no answer. I sink
down on the curb and feel the tears start. I am so grateful to have seen her,
but I also feel my soul ache that she is here.

I stand up with a renewed sense of
purpose. Who cares about a mystery angel? I really don’t care right at this
moment if Joe feels warm fuzzy thoughts about me either. All I can think or
care about right now is Linda. Finding her again, reaching her. I start almost running
down a side street, searching for a sign of pink. When I do not see her I go
faster, not slower. Then I turn another corner and run smack dab into…

Lugner.

Are you fucking kidding me? “Whoa!”
I say as I look up and recognize him immediately. “Watch where you’re going,
Lugner!”

“I apologize, but what a happy
accident this is.” He seems genuinely shocked that I’m in front of him.

“Accident? So, you don’t know that
I was just in your office? By the way, kudos on the customer service. That
woman you have in the front is not ever going to make it onto anyone’s
Christmas card list.”

“Ah. That would be Suzy. You were
in my office?” he asks curiously.

“Yes, I figured I would just appear
like you usually do so you’d have an idea of how incredibly creepy that actually
is,” I say. “But I guess it didn’t work, because all I got was the pleasure of
Suzy, and you still managed to scare the pants off of me.”

“I am sorry. For both scaring you
and subjecting you to Suzy. I must say I’m a bit impressed. No one ever comes
looking for me. That is why I have such refined stalking skills,” he says
teasingly.

“It’s not funny. The last thing I
needed today was another scare,” I say, holding onto my chest, feeling my
imaginary heart beat out a rumba rhythm.

“Seeing Linda scared you? I would
have thought you would have gotten some pleasure out of that experience,” he
says casually.

“How…what…were you?” I can’t even
finish a thought. My head is spinning now. How could he have possibly known? It
wasn’t like I was thinking about Linda or anything.

“Well, Louise, I obviously know who
is in my employ. And if you were in my office, then obviously you saw her,” he
says.

“But I wasn’t sure that I had.”
“Yes, Deedy’s magic is still holding. For now,” he says, mischievously.

“Do you think she saw me?” I ask
hopefully.

“No, I’d say she probably felt a
little dizzy and went home early,” he concluded. “However, I think I can be of
assistance to you, Louise, if you like.”

“Help me do what?” I say.

“Help you do what you came to do.
Come to my office in the morning. I can explain everything to you.”

“Okay. Tomorrow, after I drop Joe
off,” I say, and we wave and go our separate ways.

I could actually be seeing Linda as
soon as tomorrow! But instead of feeling elated, I start to feel uneasy. What
does he mean he can help? And what was the stuff about Deedy’s magic? Why do I
find Lugner both thrilling and disturbing? Ugh.

I just don’t feel much like talking
anymore tonight. And with seeing Linda for just a split second, I’m not sure
about seeing Hank. So I decide to skip any visiting and go straight back to my
apartment. Tomorrow is a new day. And it may be one of the most important days
I have had here so far.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Joe is working hard, sweating
terribly, and hates this stupid suit. John, the foreman on this construction
site also demands that he wear a tool belt. The suit looks even more ridiculous
with his tool belt strapped over it. He is missing a ton of tools, just one
more reason he hates the belt. So he is forced to run around and beg or borrow
tools all the time.

He has been stuck working outdoors
since he started. Today, he starts outside and right after lunch he is sent
inside. He is glad for the change of scenery. Until he sees what kind of scene
it really is in there.

Joe finds himself working with Abe
and Charlie. Abe is a very large, very mean man who pretty much keeps to
himself. Charlie is more like a prison guard. Not exactly friendly, but seems a
little more fair. At one point John comes in and hands Joe a shelf.

“Put this up over the toilet in the
bathroom,” he barks at Joe.

“I’ll need a hammer and a level,”
Joe says, looking down at his useless tool belt.

“Why would you need a level?” John
seems confused.

“Right. Sorry, I must have been
delirious for a minute. But a hammer? That seems pretty necessary.” Joe
realizes there is no need to make a shelf level because that would make it
functional. Joe cannot even recall a single shelf in his apartment, let alone
one that you could actually set things on.

“Borrow a hammer from Abe or
Charlie,” John says.

Joe sighs and goes back inside,
trying to steel himself to ask either one of those two for a favor. However,
once he gets into the kitchen area he sees a hammer sitting on the table. He
just picks it up and carries it to the bathroom where he starts on the shelf.
After about an hour, it is all done. He stands back to admire his handiwork
when he hears shouting downstairs. The guys must be arguing again, for the
hundredth time this week. But when he hears a crash and glass breaking, he runs
back through the house to where the boys are now engaged in what seems to be a
fistfight.

“I gave it to you! Give it back!”
Charlie yells at Abe.

“I don’t have it! You must have
taken it back!” Abe is towering over Charlie, but that doesn’t stop Charlie
from still lunging at Abe. Abe picks up a stray board off the floor and plants
it hard on the side of Charlie’s head. Charlie returns the favor by grabbing a
chair and breaking it over Abe’s head.

“What the fuck is happening here!”
John says as he rushes in and stands between the two of them.

“Charlie has lost his ever loving
mind!” Abe says.

“He’s a thief, and he’s got my
hammer!” Charlie growls

“A hammer? All of this is over a
hammer?” John asks. “You two would kill each other, if that were possible, over
a damn hammer? I should can both of you, right here. Let me make this very
clear. Are you both listening?” He waits for Abe and Charlie both to confirm.
“When I find that hammer I may just use it to brain you both. But I will
definitely fire whoever has it. Comprende?”

“Nice knowing you,” Abe says to
Charlie.

“Have fun asking for change in
front of the diner,” Charlie responds.

“That won’t be necessary,” Joe
says.

John turns around and sees Joe
approaching. “This isn’t about you, Joe. Go back to work.”

Joe reaches into his tool belt and
takes out the hammer. “I found it. Sitting on the kitchen table. I used it to
hang that shelf. It was me. Please don’t brain these two, and I will be waiting
out in your trailer for my pink slip.” He sets the hammer on a side table,
smiles at Abe and Charlie, then walks out.

Out in John’s foreman’s trailer,
Joe sits calmly while John is slamming things around like a child having a
tantrum. Joe doesn’t seem to understand the issue.

“What exactly is the problem? You
said, whoever has the hammer goes,” Joe says.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it. I
mean, really. If we fired everyone who stole something at a construction site
there wouldn’t be anyone left,” John says.

“Okay. So again, what is the
problem? Just yell at me and send me back on the job.”

“Yeah, can’t do that either.” John
seems torn.

“Why?” Joe is partly confused,
partly just tired of this and wants it to end.

“Joe, I think I still have to fire
you. But not because you took the hammer. Because you gave it back.” John looks
at him with sad eyes. “Here ya go, Joe. Sorry.” And hands Joe his slip.

Terminated for Trustworthiness.

Joe is actually fine. It seems like
this is supposed to be what happens with temp jobs from Deedy. You lose them,
you go tell Deedy, and everything is honky dory. The only disconcerting thing
about losing a job is that it unlocks another memory of his life. Joe is very
comforted by the fact that his memory is like Swiss cheese from his days of
being alive. Getting all these new flashes from the past is not the comfort
that Deedy may think it is. It actually makes him kind of angry sometimes.
Because most of those memories show Joe that his life overall was pretty
decent.

At Deedy’s office Gabby is waiting
with ice cold root beer and a smile. Deedy looks at his pink slip and is almost
celebratory about it.

“Terminated for Trustworthiness.
Can’t wait to hear about that. Come in, please.” Joe sits in his usual chair
across from Deedy’s desk and tells him all about the war that was waged over a stupid
hammer.

“Abe and Charlie seem like the kind
of guys who like to use their fists to blow off steam,” Deedy says finally.
“You probably did them a favor, giving them a reason to beat the stuffing out
of each other.”

“I guess. Good thing John didn’t think
the same thing. Otherwise the pink slip would have said I was fired for
trustworthiness and providing stress relief for my co-workers,” Joe says.

Deedy laughs. “Let’s talk about
your stress level. How do you feel?”

“Okay. Why don’t you ask what you
really want to know?”

Deedy looks bemused. “What do I
really want to know?”

“Memory,” Joe says. “And yes, I
have one.”

Deedy says nothing. Just sits back
and assumes his listening position. Joe begins.

“In the early 70s I met a young
assistant to a very famous actress. She was a good girl, from a small town in
the Midwest who came to the big city with a suitcase and a dream. You know,
it’s an old, old story. She wanted to be an actress, but ended up having to
work for one. And man, she picked the worse one. This diva was horrible to her.
She used to do things like try on twelve different outfits, make Sarah take
photos of her in all of them, then make her go to a one hour film developer,
get them developed and bring them back so she could pick the most photogenic
outfit. She was abusive and exploited Sarah like she was an indentured servant.
She would demand the most unreasonable things at the most unreasonable times,
and Sarah always delivered. When I met her, I offered her some real money for
any of those photos that were very unflattering. She refused. The actress was
arrested for a DUI and threw her purse at Sarah when she came to pick her up
from jail. I offered her money again for an inside scoop of her condition that
night. She refused, again.”

“Sounds like a lovely girl,” Deedy
says.

“Yes, she was. She eventually got
fired after the actress publicly accused her of leaking a story about her going
into rehab. I knew it was bullshit, because I knew Sarah would never have done
that. I went to Sarah and told her as much. I also gave her a contact of a
theater producer that I knew. He gave her a small part in his upcoming play. I
went on opening night and was so pleased for her. Even though it was a small
part, she had made it her own and stole the show. She got more parts, bigger
parts, and eventually made the jump over to film. She became somewhat famous.
Not Meryl Streep kind of famous, but she worked steadily and won a few awards.
The thing is, once the papps were interested in her, she called me. She gave me
every single scoop about her and supplied me with photos and everything. We
became friends over the years. She made me a better reporter, because I stopped
offering assistants to hand over unflattering photos and sneaking around alleys
or digging through trashcans. I started developing real relationships with
sources. Prove to them that you are trustworthy and they will be just as good
to you. That became my motto.”

“Good motto,” Deedy says.

“Oh, and the actress that fired
Sarah? Turns out she had planted that story herself. Her career was lagging,
and she couldn’t get work, so she decided an interesting tidbit in the tabloids
would spurn interest in her again. The reporter she met with retired and wrote
his memoirs. In them he admitted she had given him the story. It was fabulous.
Talk about getting press interest? She got so much bad publicity that no one in
Hollywood would touch her ever again.” Joe laughs.

“So by choosing to be trustworthy
instead of dealing in low grade gossip, didn’t that mean that you were
regularly scooped?” Deedy asks.

“Sure. That’s why I never made it
to the big time. But it also meant that I never got named in lawsuits or had to
retract anything I’d put in print. And sometimes I would get a story that no
one else would because celebrities that value their privacy would entrust me
with the few secrets that they were willing to let out,” Joe says, suddenly
feeling sad. He thinks he may start to cry, and that fact is both shocking and
horrible to him.

“My boy,” Deedy says in his grandfatherly
way. “What you need is just a tiny push and it may be sooner rather than later
that you start to fly!” Deedy was always saying weird things like that.

“Push me where?” Joe asks. “Or more
importantly, push me off of what?”

Deedy laughs out loud at that.
“Nothing too scary, Joe. I’m sending you back to the scene of the crime, as
they say in the movies.” He slides a yellow post-it note across the desk.

Joe picks it up and it is his turn
to laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Go on. You might find it a more
rewarding job than you think,” Deedy says, looking at Joe kindly.

“As a cashier at a superstore? I
can’t imagine what could be rewarding about that,” Joe says. “But what the
heck, I’ll give it a try.”

“Tremendous!” Deedy exclaims.
Sometimes his enthusiasm is a bit over the top.

As Joe walks home, he is lost in
thought. Deedy has been good to him, and he feels better than he has felt since
dying. Gabby and Louise are also part of it, providing him with more comfort
than he has ever known in Hell. He just wonders, with this wild ride he’s on
whereby he gets a job, loses it, goes and gets another one. Exactly where does
this ride go?