Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (48 page)

Right after Carl's call, my attorney, Susan Honneycutt, called with two good pieces of news. First, the auditors finished yesterday and found everything in order. I knew they would. Max was one to cut corners, but I wouldn't let him, and besides, I kept the books. Second, she told me that Max's life insurance check for a quarter of a million dollars had arrived in her office. I didn't even know he had a life insurance policy. I'll need to make a trip to the bank today and see how best to invest it. I think I want to put that money away as a college fund for the kids.

The best surprise of the day was my meeting with Betty Nading. Max said she was very homely looking, but I found her pleasant enough. If she gets her teeth fixed she will be attractive, but no raving beauty by any means. I had two objectives for the meeting. One was to keep our relationship purely business and the other was to obtain her services as cheaply as possible.

My first objective immediately failed. I liked her. I mean I really liked her, and the feeling was obviously mutual. She's a confused kid, completely lacking in self-confidence and crying out for attention and acceptance. I felt I could mold her into anything I wanted, even something of a slave. Indeed, I had her in bed right after lunch and left her begging for more. I may have even convinced her in the short time we were together to leave her husband and devote herself to my service. If I play my cards right, I may wind up with an artist for the business, a free babysitter, and a nice long active tongue between my legs every night.

However, that line of thinking may be what has me feeling a little blue—guilty—this morning. When I say I like her I mean it in the most positive way. I think I could love her. If she is to be something more than a toy to me, like Jan was, I must try to help her along the road to happiness. I'm not sure I did that when I introduced her to the delights of lesbianism. I surely did have her crawling my bedroom walls, though.

I was completely successful with my second objective, and I think I feel a little guilty about that too. Max recognized her raw talent and was compensating her accordingly. When I recognized her malleability, I offered her an office and peanuts and she jumped on it. She has no concept of what her talent is worth. Of course, she said she must talk to her husband first. I think his name is Bo. I didn't even discuss with her the possibility of continuing as a free lance artist. Maybe in all fairness I should call her today and give her that option, but I know I won't. If she turns down the in-house position, then I will discuss continued freelancing.

Susan mentioned another thing to me on the telephone last night that I need to check into. Max always wrote the advertising copy for us. I think I can do it, but Susan suggested that I talk with Sandra Dollar. Sandra is half of the filthy rich Dollar duo who are transforming Dot with their inherited millions. Susan says Sandra is a good writer, has written several book reviews for the
Dot Courier
and the
Charlotte Observer
, and has an agent trying to market her first novel to a major publisher. I'll have to put this on my “to do” list for next week, because Susan told me Mrs. Dollar gave birth to a baby boy yesterday morning—the heir to the throne I guess.

“Damn,” Big Willie exclaimed as he entered his Tanglewood office, water dripping from the thin plastic poncho he was wearing. “I feel like I ought to get out the phone book, look up Noah, and make a reservation on the ark."

Big Willie laughed heartily as he jammed a fresh cigar between his teeth, but Bo simply replied, “It's supposed to be like this all day."

“What's wrong with you, boy?” Big Willie asked as he settled into his desk chair. “I think this is the first time since you came to work for me I've seen you just sprawled in a chair doing nothing."

“I didn't get any sleep last night. Betty and I were up all night talking. We had our first fight and I sure as hell didn't win. Look, I have the crew working on equipment in the shed. We're not going to see any golfers today and the guys certainly can't work on the courses. I thought you might want to send them home and save a few nickels. I'll make the rounds and see if everything was done properly yesterday,” he concluded as he stood up and stretched.

“Hold your horses, youngster. You can't drop something like that on me and then just walk away. What happened?"

“Betty wasn't the only one who won last night. You did too.” Bo walked to the coffeepot and automatically filled Big Willie's cup as well as his own.

“What did I win?” Big Willie asked, taking a sip of the steaming black liquid.

“Betty fell in love with the stupid town and was offered a great job with the advertising agency, but it's an in-house job. She'll have to move to Dot to take it, and she said she was going to take it, whether I went with her or not. So I'm going."

“Hell, son. You have a great opportunity in Dot too. I don't see the problem."

“Bullshit."

“Spit it out, boy."

Bo collapsed in the wooden chair and replied sullenly. “There is no way two men can do all the physical work they want done in one year's time, and I have to take a nineteen thousand dollar salary cut for the privilege of trying."

“How do you figure that?"

“Simple math. With overtime, I am now making forty-four thousand. They offered me twenty-five."

“I didn't realize you were making that kind of money, Bo. You do put in a hell of a lot of overtime. I think you are wrong about the work in Dot, though. They don't expect us to do the physical work. They want us to oversee the work—see to it that it's done properly and quickly."

“That's not the way I heard it, Big Willie.” Bo stood up, put on a yellow poncho issued by the park, and headed for the door. “I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Big Willie refilled his cup and checked to see if there was any e-mail. There were four messages. He read the last one first. It was from Matt Dilson.

It was good to see you again yesterday and to meet Mr. Nading. We hope to receive an affirmative answer from you both by the end of the day.

He moved the mouse to the reply icon and clicked it.

Your offer to Bo Nading was an insult—$19,000 less than he is making at Tanglewood. Bo understands that you expect us to personally perform all the work you want completed in the next twelve months. That is absolutely impossible. I must rethink the whole proposal.

The remaining three messages were from Sarasue. The first two were the usual sex fantasies. Big Willie read them quickly before deleting them. He thought long and hard about her final message before picking up the telephone and dialing the number she provided.

“Hello."

“Sarasue?"

She began to cry. “Big Willie, is it really you?"

“It's me. You're a damned good storyteller, Sarasue. If that last message you sent me was another of your fantasies..."

“It isn't,” she interrupted. “Big Willie, I'm desperate. I don't know what to do."

“I don't know if I can help, but I'll at least listen."

“We've swapped a bunch of lies, big man. It kept me from going insane I think. It was fun. You know more about me than you think you do, hidden in the fantasies. Let me tell you about the real Sarasue."

“I'm still listening."

“I'm 34 years old. Black as a Halloween cat, not white like I told you. I have only a high school education. My husband was the computer programmer, not me. I never worked a day in my life until he died four years ago. We used to have friends, but after his death, they all dropped me. I have no children. My parents are dead. You are the only friend I have in the world."

“Your message said you lost your job."

She blew her nose several times before continuing. “After Lester died I lived on his insurance for a few months. I started looking for work. After being turned down more times than I can remember, I settled for a job as a housekeeper for a snot-nosed white bitch and looked after her kids. The kids were great but I never could seem to please their mother. Big Willie, I did a damn good job, but she was on my ass every day about something or other. She'd have fired me a long time ago, but her husband wouldn't let her. Housekeepers are hard to find in this little community. Anyway, the other day she had me arrested. She claimed I stole a diamond ring out of her bedroom. Big Willie, I didn't do it. The police searched my house and let me go, but the bitch fired me anyway. Big Man, this is a small town. Word gets around. Nobody will hire me now, and the lady that owns the house I rent says she won't renew the contract when the lease expires at the end of September. What am I gonna do?” She started crying again.

“What do you want to do?"

“You told me your wife is in a wheelchair now and needs care during the day while you are at work. Let me come take care of her."

“I don't think that's a good idea. How the hell would I explain you to Louise?"

“You can think of something. Tell her you answered an ad in the newspaper."

“I don't think it would work out, Sarasue, but I will help you the best I can. Give me your mailing address and I'll send you some money."

“I don't need money, right now, Big Willie. I need a friend. I have a few dollars saved up. Help me get out of this place. Help me to come to Winston-Salem where nobody knows me and I can start a new life."

“You keep your chin up. I'll try to think of something. Maybe I should tell you I may be leaving Winston-Salem for a new job."

“What the...” Panic crept into her voice. “Where are you going? What's this all about?"

“It's not definite. I'll tell you more later."

“Are you sure I can count on you, Big Willie?"

“Yeah,” he replied. “You can count on me to at least try to help you out of this jam."

Big Willie leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his bulging stomach and stared out the dingy office window at the raging storm. He chuckled halfheartedly when the often-repeated line from a sitcom he used to watch in the fifties popped into his mind. “What a revoltin’ development this is."

“Where did you get into all that mud, Bo? You are a nasty mess,” Big Willie laughed as Bo sloshed into his office.

“There were drainage pipes clogged on four and fifteen on the white course and nine on the blue. I didn't have much choice but to dig them out.” He looked down at his soiled jeans. “You should have seen me before I pulled off my boots."

“Everything okay now?"

“Yeah. I checked all the ditches while I was at it."

“You have clean pants in your locker?"

Bo nodded. “I'll change in a minute. I thought you ought to know that the fairways are so soaked that we have standing water in places where drainage isn't too good. A golf cart would get bogged down and tear up the turf."

“I know. I've already closed the courses for the day. I sent the rest of the crew home an hour ago. There's nothing more you can do here today. You may as well go and get some sleep. You need it."

“Thanks. May I use your phone?” Bo asked as he picked up the receiver.

“Betty, this is Bo. Big Willie's closed the courses due to the rain. I have the rest of the day off. It's almost eleven. I thought maybe you could pick me up on your lunch hour, we'd grab a burger and you could drop me off at home on your way back to work."

When he hung up, Big Willie said, “Go on and get some dry britches on, but come back by here before you leave. I have something to show you that may help you have pleasant dreams."

When Bo left the office Big Willie picked up the hardcopy of the e-mail he just received from Victor Kimel.

Mr. Donaldson,

Matt Dilson forwarded your e-mail to me. I have given the matter a good deal of thought and discussed it with Mr. Dollar and Matt Dilson. To avoid further confusion, our attorney, Susan Honneycutt, is drawing up formal proposals for both you and Mr. Nading, outlining in detail our salary offer, job descriptions and our specific expectations for the first twenty-four months of employment. I will forward these to you no later than noon tomorrow.

In brief, your understanding of our expectations is correct. While certainly the two of you will want to do some of the physical work yourselves, your primary responsibility is to supervise. We expect you to begin building a staff as need arises.

My first thought concerning Mr. Nading's salary is that perhaps he should stay at Tanglewood. Forty-four thousand dollars is, in my judgement, an excessive salary for an eighteen-year-old man with no formal education beyond high school and only two months of experience. However, I have discussed the matter with both Mr. Dilson and Mr. Dollar. Based on our strong desire to have you become our golf course superintendent, and on your high recommendation of Mr. Nading, we have amended our salary offer to forty-five thousand and the benefits previously discussed.

Mr. Nading should be aware that I feel this salary is excessive. His work will be under careful and constant scrutiny. He has nothing to fear as long as his work is acceptable, but I will not keep anyone on the payroll who does not legitimately earn his paycheck.

Regards,

Victor Kimel

“How are you holding up?” Bo asked after swallowing his first bite of hamburger.

“We haven't been busy, of course,” Betty answered. “I've spent most of the morning dozing. In fact, I was sound asleep when you called."

He smiled and pushed the folded e-mail copy across the table without introductory comment.

She opened and read the message. “Bo, this is great. Big Willie went to bat for you and hit one out of the park."

“Something like that."

“You don't sound very excited."

“Betty, how do I know what is acceptable work to this Victor Kimel character? I have things going well here at Tanglewood, and I have a good relationship with Mr. Hathaway. I believe he would have matched this salary as interim greens-keeper, and I think there was a good chance he might have given me the job permanently. It's hard to get excited about moving into the unknown when there are no clear-cut advantages. And surely you can't expect me to be excited about sharing you with this Rita person."