Summer Cool

24

All the lights were on in Paine's office. The door was open. The air conditioner was on, rattling unsuccessfully in the window, making noise, pushing hot air into the corners of the room.

Anapolos was sitting on Paine's chair, behind his desk, going through his mail.

Paine stood in the doorway and said, "I just got out of Police Chief Bryers’ car. You want me to call him back and report a breaking and entering?"

Anapolos looked up at him mildly. "Do what you want, Mr. Paine. We'll let the lawyers settle it. If you read your lease closely, you'll see that I have the right of entrance. I have a key for the premises, and I used it."

"I don't have a lawyer," Paine said. He crossed the room, walked around his desk, and grabbed Anapolos by the shirtfront, yanking him up out of the chair.

Anapolos gasped, his eyes going wide. "Mr. Paine, the lawyers-"

"I told you I don't have a lawyer," Paine said. "I don't need one."

Holding Anapolos tightly by the shirt, Paine danced him back around the desk to the front and dropped him into one of the padded chairs.

"Mr. Paine, Mr. Paine. ." Anapolos gasped, trying to regain his breath along with his dignity.

Paine sat behind his desk and drew a key from his pocket. Ignoring Anapolos, he fitted the key into the lower righthand drawer of the desk, unlocked it, opened the drawer, and brought out a portable cassette deck. There was a tape in it, and Paine rewound it.

"Listen," Paine said. He pushed the Play button, and both he and Anapolos listened to Koval and Kohl's antics in Paine's office, the threats, the short fight, Koval's whining announcement that Anapolos had sent them to beat Paine up.

Paine turned off the tape recorder, removed the tape, and put it in his pocket. He rummaged in the back of the open drawer, found a fresh tape, unwrapped it and put it in the machine. He put the recorder back in the drawer, slid it closed, locked it, and pocketed the key.

"Anything to say?" Paine said. "Should I get a lawyer?"

Anapolos began to sputter, "I didn't-I did not send-"

"Here's what you're going to do," Paine said. "And you're going to do it of your own free will. I am not blackmailing you. The tape, which I'm going to copy and send to Chief Bryers, asking him not to open it unless I ask him to, is just something I have in my possession. It has nothing to do with you, unless you want it to. Unless you want lawyers going over it.

"What you're going to do is leave me alone. You're going to draw up a new lease, without the right of entrance clause, and the term of the lease is going to be ninety-nine years. The rent will go up with the rate of inflation each year, which is fair. Also in my new lease will be a clause guaranteeing strict maintenance of my office, at your expense. The office will be painted every five years. You will make sure there are no water leaks, no roaches, no rats, no termites. Also, and this will be the first thing you do, you will make sure that either the air conditioner in here is fixed, immediately, or that a new one is installed.

"Have your lawyer witness the lease, get it notarized, and send it to me. Now get out, Mr. Anapolos."

Anapolos sat unmoving in his chair, struck dumb. "Mr. Paine-"

"I've been nothing but fair, Mr. Anapolos. You're an asshole and I don't like you, and what I should really do is tell Chief Bryers to play the tape I send him as soon as he gets it. He'll like it. He's a stickler for details. He doesn't like corruption, and scumbags like you offend his sense of order.

"What would happen to you is that you would be arrested and booked, and then spend at least a night in jail while your relatives come up with bail. Then you would go to trial and lose, because Koval and Kohl would testify against you after being promised immunity. And you would spend about nine months in jail, during which time you would be fucked in the rear end until your rectum is wide enough to pass a grapefruit."

Paine stopped as Anapolos scurried for the door, closing it gently behind him. "All right, Mr. Paine," he said, and in a moment Paine heard the elevator wheeze him down to the ground.

Paine turned on the answering machine on his desk. He was checking through the blank tape when the phone rang.

When he put the receiver to his ear, Philly Ramos's voice said, "Hello, Paine." The voice sounded faraway, vague, haunted.

"You want me to help you, Philly?"

"I don't think I can be helped, Paine."

"You sure, Philly? I can take you in, make sure the police take care of you."

"I don't think that's possible. Anyway. ." He laughed, a pained sound. "Remember how Roberto used to say he couldn't stand to go back to jail again?"

"Yes."

Again the hurt laugh. "That was me, Paine. Worse than Roberto. I was only in once, for a few months. But it was enough."

"What are you going to do?"

The laugh. "Doing it now, Paine. Doesn't hurt as much as I thought. Bathwater's all red. ."

"Philly, where are you?"

"Forget it, Paine. Too late." The hurt laugh was softening.

"Philly, don't do this, let me help you."

"Sorry, don't need help. Told you I can't go back in. Even for a night. Maybe I know what I like, but I always wanted it nice. I wanted it to be nice for Roberto. But I told you, he played the fence with everybody. Even me. The only time I get mean, Paine, is when somebody doesn't play straight with me."

"Philly-"

"Thanks for talking, Paine. I was going to do it anyway. Just wanted someone to be with me. I could have made it good for you, Paine, nice, better than Roberto. I would have loved you forever, man. . "

Philly's voice trailed off to a sigh, and then the phone was hung up in Paine's ear and he heard the final, harsh tone of disconnection.

Paine hung up the phone, and then picked it up again to repeat, for a moment, that final sound.