Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie (10 page)

I was carrying a manila folder with the four blowjob photos in it, when Bridget escorted me into a second conference room. On one side of a large table sat Mr. Dodd, in the middle of three chairs. Bridget took the chair to Mr. Dodd’s right.

On the other side of the conference table sat a brunette woman in her forties; a disgustingly fat man filled the chair next to her; and next to him sat the “dead cell phone” blonde. If the brunette was my Aunt Esther, I didn’t recognize her at all. Her expression was a mask. The fat man was looking at me with eagerness, whereas the twenty-something blonde looked like she was about to endure a tax audit.

I’d walked maybe five feet into the room when the fat man said loudly, “Young man, if you’re going to surf internet porn, please do it on your own time and on your own computer. You’ve kept us all waiting, which is inconsiderate, don’t you think?”

I gave him an amused smile. “Internet porn, is
that
what you think I was doing?”

I took the empty seat to Mr. Dodd’s left. As Bridget was handing me a legal pad and a pen, Mr. Dodd said, “Marvin, let me introduce you to the people on the other side. You already know your aunt, Esther Flint. Sitting next to her is her attorney, Wayne Northcutt. Sitting next to Mr. Northcutt is his legal assistant, Cassandra Farnetti. Folks, this is Marvin Harper, the heir designated in Warren Harper’s will.”

I stood up, leaving the manila folder on the table unopened, and walked around to the other side of the table, my hand out. As soon as my intentions became clear, Northcutt and Cassandra stood up.

Aunt Esther did not stand up. I walked to her chair, my hand out to shake hers, and said, “Aunt Esther.” I was
not
about to say
Aunt Esther, it’s good to see you again.

Aunt Esther looked at my hand like I’d just pulled it from a septic tank. “This is not a social call,” she said coldly.

Surprised, I moved my gaze from Aunt Esther to Northcutt. He was pulling his outstretched hand away from me. “Sorry, I have to follow the client’s lead.” His sassy grin told me that he was anything
but
sorry.

I shrugged, and walked back to my seat. As I walked past Cassandra, she averted her gaze.

Once back in my seat, I said, “Aunt Esther, I don’t recognize you. Have we ever met?”

She said, “Yes, Christmas of ‘97, Granny Flo was hosting a Christmas dinner. You were a child, and you kept chasing her poodle through the house.”

I nodded, recalling a poodle with pink nail polish. I then asked, “When did Florence die? It had to have been before Christ-mas 1999.”

Northcutt said, “Young man, if you want to catch up on family history, please show some consideration and do it later. We have more important things to discuss.”

I looked at him coldly. “Number one, I’m asking questions that I’m the most qualified person here to ask. Number two, doesn’t your whole court argument come down to blood relationships?”

Northcutt said pompously, “I will allow such questions.”

Aunt Esther said, “Granny Flo died in July 1998.”

A few more questions by me, and the pattern became clear. Aunt Esther and her children had come to the Christmas dinner in 1999 that Herbert (my great-grandfather) and Minnie had hosted—but after 1999, Esther and her children had skipped all events hosted by Flo’s relatives. I thought it better not to tell Fat Boy that the Steve Harper family and Uncle Walter kept bumping into each other every Christmastime and Fourth of July.

I then turned to Mr. Dodd and said, “I have no more to ask.”

Mr. Dodd then asked Aunt Esther a few bland questions about traffic tickets, arrests, finances, and credit history. I suspect that he had already gone online and pulled up the answers.

Mr. Dodd looked at Northcutt and said, “Wayne, your turn.”

Northcutt turned his fat face toward me and said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “
Mister
Harper, please tell us about your
one
visit with Warren Harper in the hospital.”

I ignored the sarcasm; I figured it was a tactic to get me angry and make me do something stupid.

I calmly answered, blah-blah, “...Aunt Claire, actually, she’s my mom’s aunt. I was visiting her and she told me that Uncle Warren also was in the hospital. I suppose he and she met at one of Dad’s Fourth of July barbecues...,” blah-blah, “...I walked over and visited him. Then four days later, he died and I was in the will.”

“You went to the hospital with no plans to visit him, only your Aunt Claire?”

“Yes.”

“The decision to visit him was spontaneous?”

“Yes.”

“So what happened during the visit?”

“Beats me. I’m going to a party day after tomorrow, and I told him about that. He told me how he got his war injuries. And pretty much, that was it. We were never ‘buddies,’ so we didn’t talk long, or about anything deep. Correction: he mentioned the fact that Eisenhower started the interstate system, which gave us the Smith Freeway. Uncle Warren was a big fan of Eisenhower.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Northcutt said. “But do you see the problem that a jury will have with what you just said?”

I said testily, “A jury won’t have
any
problem with what I just said, because it’s the truth.”

“We have only
your word
that nothing else was said, nothing else was done during that visit.”

“Not so. Sherry Benson was there the whole time, heard every word.”

Aunt Esther said, “Is she one of Warren’s little sex slaves? Spare me.”

Northcutt nodded, and started to look through his manila folder. “Sherry Benson, she’s an ‘exotic dancer’ at ... Club Physique.”

I said, “Nimfo Club, actually. She started work there Monday.”

Northcutt gave me a shark smile. “Thanks for the correction. Cassie, make a note.”

Cassandra didn’t say anything, but she gave me a pitying look.
You fool, don’t you see that you’re making things easier for him?

Northcutt continued, “And if you disregard the words of a stripper—which I think I can easily convince the jury to do—then what’s left as the explanation? You’re a big, muscular boy—maybe you threatened to hurt the sick old man, hm? Or since I can easily establish that Warren Harper was a pervert, maybe you offered him a little
quid pro quo
, hmm?”

I laughed.
Jeez, this guy is so transparent.

Then I said, “So that’s your big legal strategy, shyster?” I put on a Marlon Brando
Godfather
voice and continued, “Boy, you do me a favor, I do you a favor. You suck my cock, I put you in my will,
capisce
?”

Aunt Esther said to me, “Marvin, remember that there are ladies present.”

I replied, “You’re right. My apologies to Bridget and Cassandra.” Cassandra giggled at this, then quickly silenced herself.

Then I said to Northcutt, “What can you beat me on? And by ‘beat,’ I mean prove with facts, not spin ‘maybe this, maybe that’ theories. Genealogy, that’s all you got. But genealogy cuts both ways. You better pray to God that Uncle Thomas doesn’t try to horn in—because Thomas Harper is Herbert’s son and thus Warren Harper’s nephew, which beat’s Esther’s claim.”

I held up a finger to indicate
Time out
, then I slid the blowjob folder over to Mr. Dodd. I wrote on the legal pad, “OK to show to Fat Boy?”

Mr. Dodd looked at the printouts, then wrote, “Relevance?”

I wrote back, “Two examples that undue influence doesn’t get you in the will.”

He wrote back, “BRILLIANT!!!”

****

Seconds later, the open folder laid on the table in front of Northcutt, and I was retaking my seat. Aunt Esther had turned away, pretending to be offended; but Cassandra (with Fat Boy’s permission) was studying the photos.

Northcutt sneered at me. “Young man, I want to thank you for further impeaching your key witnesses.”

I said, “I guess you’re not as smart as Aunt Esther is paying you to be. Sherry and Virgilia are poster girls for ‘undue influence,’ but neither of them will inherit a dime.”

Cassandra said, “Mr. Northcutt, he has a point. These pictures are
facts
, and his facts trump your theories.”

Northcutt said, “Cassie, that’s why you’re the legal assistant and I’m the lawyer. Juries decide facts, and I decide what juries think.”

I said, “Then you’re
definitely
not as smart as Aunt Esther is paying you to be. Because so long as the news is ‘Two relatives are fighting over a rich man’s will,’ the news media won’t get interested. But bring in cocksucking strippers, and every TV station will be doing hourly updates. Too bad for you. Because not only will you lose the case, but you’ll be hated nationwide. I bet I’ll see a ‘Northcutt is scum’ page on Facebook.”

Cassandra said, “Again he has a point, Mr. Northcutt. Losing a case is no big thing, but losing a case amid a firestorm of adverse publicity, that could be disastrous for the firm.”

Northcutt shrugged. “Then I’ll just have to be even more creative with the facts when I tell the jury about your darling Mr. Harper, won’t I, Cassie?”

The conference-room door opened then, and a pizza-delivery man stepped in. Looking at him, I got a strange feeling.

A pizza-delivery man was a surprise visitor to the conference room. “Who ordered the pizza?” he asked.

Everyone exchanged confused looks, but the pizza-delivery man was already walking over to Northcutt.

Looking at the pizza-delivery man, I got an eerie feeling. He had skin the same walnut-brown as Fatima’s, had a moustache and goatee that was the same black as Fatima’s hair, had eyes of the same bright green, and was dressed all in green.
All
in green—green denim jeans, green high-top sneakers, a green ballcap (turned around backward), and a green nametag pinned to a green polo shirt. That nametag said “Ashnadim,” and his polo shirt had “Jinn’s Pizza” printed on it.

Now Ashnadim was standing behind Northcutt’s chair. Ashnadim said to Northcutt, “You look like someone who orders lots of pizza.” Before Northcutt could reply, Ashnadim dropped his green pizza bag atop the blowjob pictures that I’d left on the table.

But Ashnadim, instead of opening the pizza bag and taking pizza boxes out, gestured with both hands. Everyone but Ashna-dim and I turned their heads in order to stare straight ahead with a blank expression.

Ashnadim, meanwhile, had instantly changed his clothes: Now he was wearing loose green silk pants, a green sash like a cummerbund, a buttonless green vest, and a green turban that was cinched in place by an emerald. The green pizza bag, meanwhile, had disappeared.

Ashnadim bowed to me and said, “Greetings, Marvin Harper, O Wisher Of Six Wishes. I am Ashnadim, chief of the Tribe of the Green Djinn. Twice you have shown kindness to our bound sister Fatima, for which the Green Tribe is grateful.”

I said, “Well, it’s always good to have friends, but what are you here for, Ashnadim?”

“You did make wish for only modest wealth, but our bound sister Fatima did choose to grant to you the great wealth of your Uncle Warren. The Green Tribe is proud of Fatima and her generosity. But these three evildoers do plot to steal Fatima’s gift for themselves. The honor of the Green Tribe is at stake, so I have come to mete out punishment.”

“Hold on,” I said. I pointed to blank-staring Cassandra. “Read the memories of this one. I am sure that she has a good heart, and that she has done as much good today as she could.”

Ashnadim moved to stand behind Cassandra, then reached his hands around her to touch her forehead.

Seconds later, he withdrew his hands. “It is as you say. She took this work to help people who have been wronged. But
this one
threatens to ruin her life if she doesn’t help him in his evils.”

Then Ashnadim stepped behind Aunt Esther, and put his fingertips on her forehead. “But before I make justice, I will know why this woman would steal from a good man and a kinsman.”

Seconds later, Ashnadim pulled his hands away in surprise. He then gestured, and a basketball-sized scrying ball appeared in front of his face. While looking at the big scrying ball and gesturing, Ashnadim asked in a distracted voice, “Your Uncle Warren, whose wealth she fights you for, he was Fatima’s previous master?”

“Yes,” I said, unable to guess where this was going.

“And his second wish was that he could touch the back of a woman’s hand, and—”

“And that wish
definitely
worked, let me tell you.”

Ashnadim nodded distractedly. A few seconds later, the scrying ball
pop
ped away.

Ashnadim pointed to the conference table by my chair, and a big book
pop
ped there. The book looked like either a photo album or a scrapbook.

Ashnadim said, “You will find this interesting.”

Ashnadim gestured, and the book opened itself. Now I was seeing photos of Uncle Warren in his sixties, being sucked-off by 1980s-era cuties.

Then a green-smoke rectangle appeared above one page, drawing my attention to two photos in particular.

“Holy shit!” I blurted.

The two photos carried a common caption: “My hot grand-niece Esther, April 1985.”

****

Twenty minutes later, hypnotized Cassandra was sitting next to hypnotized Aunt Esther, and hypnotized Northcutt was sitting in Cassandra’s former place. Basically, Ashnadim had done a cut-and-paste of lawyer knowledge from Northcutt’s brain to Cassandra’s. Now I was asking Ashnadim to show mercy.

I said, “This is enough. Cassandra now has the lawyer knowledge, all the official records say it’s she who is the lawyer, and it’s she who has the big house and big car now. The world will be a better place for her being the lawyer, not him, and Northcutt’s been demoted to legal assistant. She’s been rewarded and he, punished. No more, show him mercy.”

“No, mortal Marvin,” Ashnadim said. “I have read all his memories, in order to edit them, and his mind is
vile
. It is like memory-reading a rat. I
am
showing mercy—this one still has his manhood and his liver.”

Ashnadim thought for a few seconds, summoned his scrying ball, consulted it, sent it away, then briefly touched the foreheads of Aunt Esther and Northcutt. Then Ashnadim gestured.

On the conference table in front of me
pop
ped an ink-jet-printed color photo of Northcutt and Aunt Edith fucking on a black couch.

I asked, “What is this?”

“Poetic justice,” Ashnadim replied.

“Is it real?” I asked. “Or a magic fake?”

“Both,” he replied. “He and she did have sex, and that’s how things looked then. But neither had a camera.”

“What do you intend to do with this ‘could be real, but isn’t’ photo?”

“Watch and find out,” Ashnadim said, grinning. He flicked his wrist, and the fake photo vanished in a
poof
of green smoke. Then he said, “The fun is about to begin.”

Ashnadim backed up into a corner of the room, gestured two-handed, and then everyone else in the room awoke from their trance.

****

To everyone else in the room, only seconds had passed since I’d pointed out that “cocksucking strippers” would cause a media circus if Aunt Esther’s challenge to the will went before a judge.

Lawyer-Cassandra tapped the pornographic pictures of Sherry and Virgilia. Then Lawyer-Cassandra turned to Aunt Esther and said, “Losing a case is no big thing, but losing a case amid a firestorm of adverse publicity, that could be disastrous for the firm.”

Then Cassandra continued, “Therefore I’m dropping you as a client. I’ll stop billing as of now.” She glanced at her watch, then wrote something down. “However, if you wish to drop your challenge to the will, I’ll file that paperwork at no charge.”

“What a wimp,” legal assistant Northcutt muttered.

Someone knocked on the conference-room door. A woman in her forties stepped into the room; I recognized her as another legal assistant at Dodd’s firm. She looked around the room, and her eyes widened when she looked in Northcutt’s direction. Then she said, “Um, Mr. Dodd?”

“Yes?”

The interrupting legal assistant actually tripped over a leg of my chair, because now she was staring at Aunt Esther as she walked. “Mr. Dodd, um, I found this by the copier, and I recognized Ms. Farnetti’s assistant, and—you should see this.” The woman dropped Ashnadim’s fake photo in front of Mr. Dodd.

“What the hell?” Mr. Dodd said. Then he said, “Louise, go back to the copier and copy this. If someone is on the copier, bump them off! This is A-1 priority. Then bring the copy and the photo back here as fast as you can move. Now go!”

Louise grabbed the fake photo and hurried from the room.

Meanwhile, Aunt Esther was glaring at Lawyer-Cassandra. “You’re dropping me as a client? Then I’ll just have to find
someone else
to take my case, won’t I? Someone who isn’t a goody-two-shoes, and is willing to get his hands dirty.” Aunt Esther started gathering up various papers and her purse, clearly intending to walk out of the room.

I looked at her. “Continuing this would not be wise for you.” I moved the open photo album over to Mr. Dodd, got his nodded approval (after his eyes nearly popped out from surprise), and then I carried the photo album around to the other side of the table. I dropped it in front of Lawyer-Cassandra.

“You were a blonde in 1985,” I remarked to Aunt Esther.

She promptly went ballistic. “
What?
How dare you keep these! This is blackmail. I won’t let—”

Aunt Esther made to grab the photo album off the table. But before my aunt’s hands could touch anything, Cassandra’s hands zoomed out to grab my aunt’s wrists. The two women struggled for a second or two, then Lawyer-Cassandra said, “Mr. Harper, help me!”

I grabbed Aunt Esther’s forearms, and easily pulled her hands away from the photo album. Meanwhile, Lawyer-Cassandra shoved the photo album to the other side of the conference table.

Aunt Esther was screaming at me, “Let go of me! I’ll have you arrested, I’ll sue you—”

I shook my head. “When I’m merely following
your lawyer’s
instructions? I think not.” Then my expression got harsh. “If I’m brought to court, these photos are coming to court. Are you sure you don’t want to drop your challenge?”

“Fine!” Aunt Esther said. “It’s dropped!” Then she glared at Lawyer-Cassandra. “No charge for the paperwork—I’m holding you to that!”

Legal assistant Northcutt looked at me and said, in tones of theatrical disappointment, “I had no idea that our former client was a woman of such loose morals.”

That’s when Louise stepped back into the room. She glanced at Northcutt and Aunt Esther, hurried over to Mr. Dodd, and dropped the photo and photocopy in front of him. Then she hurried out of the room.

No sooner had the door shut, but Mr. Dodd reached as far as he could reach, to hand the photocopy to Lawyer-Cassandra. But then his gaze shifted to Northcutt. “Mr. Northcutt, I am reporting you to the state bar association for ethics breach. I hope
to God
they pull your legal-assistant certificate.”

The supposed photo, of Northcutt and Aunt Esther having sex, started the two of them yelling at each other. Each claimed some variation of “I was forced into the sex,” and each called the other something like “a slimy blackmailer.”

After a minute of this, Lawyer-Cassandra raised her hand. “Wayne, you’re fired. The front receptionist will have your final check next Friday. David, may I have contact information for your employee who found the photo, to stave off a ‘wrongful termination’ lawsuit?”

Mr. Dodd said, “Bridget, please escort Mr. Northcutt directly to his car.” Bridget stood up, as Mr. Dodd gave Louise’s contact info to Lawyer-Cassandra.

As Northcutt waddled out of the room with downcast gaze, I was the only person in the room to see Ashnadim wink at me from his corner of the room.

****

When I got near my car, I discovered Ashnadim waiting for me. He was again dressed as a pizza-delivery man. I said, “Northcutt was demoted, then fired, and Aunt Esther was merely neutralized. Thank you for showing mercy to them.”

Ashnadim nodded. “Indeed, I
was
merciful to them. That’s why I numbed their genital skins for only twelve lunar cycles.”

“Um, that’s ‘merciful’?”

“Yes, young Marvin. The traditional
djinn
punishment for misdeeds like theirs is to force a clitorectomy on the woman and to geld the man. But this twelve lunar cycles of numbness is but temporary—those two will scarcely notice it. But for his sake, I hope that the fat one does not get his male part caught in his zipper—he could do himself serious injury and not notice at all.”