My little brother
calls me out of the blue and invites me to lunch on a Tuesday
when we have a one Sunday a month kind of relationship. But
I’m not the kind to turn down a meal, especially when he’s
paying.
We meet at a restaurant near
Piedmont Park in downtown Atlanta. It’s one of those places
that calls itself a bistro, which I think is French for “our
staff is gay, so we can overcharge.” I’m about to order a
beer when I hear Chase ask what flavor martini they’re serving
today.
Flavor?
The waiter tells him something
about boysenberry with a touch of melon juice and I laugh
thinking it’s a fucking joke, but my brother orders it.
“I’ll have a Scotch, straight
up,” I say. And before he can ask what brand I’d like, I
turn to Chase. “So, now you drink flavored martinis? I remember
the face you made when I gave you your first beer.”
He laughs. “It must have been
domestic.”
I shake my head. You know the
younger brother on that old TV show Frasier? I never noticed
how much Chase looks like him. Skinny, with blond hair combed
to the side, I bet he paid more for his haircut than I paid
for the clothes I’m wearing, and these are my best pants
and shirt. His hands look like a piano player’s. Mine look
like a piano mover’s.
But, he still has the family
nose. His hasn’t been broken so many times, it bends to one
side, like mine, but it’s red and round. No wonder the kids
in school used to call him Bozo.
“Hey, Chase,” I say, trying
to make small talk. “Remember when I used to beat up the
kids at school for you when they’d call you names?”
He looks like he’s about to
say something, but the waiter returns with our drinks and
takes our food order. I tell him I want the beef tenderloin
because it’s the most expensive thing on the lunch menu and
my little brother is paying. Chase smiles and says he’ll
have the salmon. He sips his martini and makes a face.
I reach over and taste his
drink. “Where’s the olive, man?” I ask the waiter. He turns
up his nose, but I see him smiling just a little. Me and
Chase crack up.
Chase really isn’t a bad guy.
He’s helped me out of a few jams, like I used to help him.
When I lost my security guard job in Philly for supposedly
using excessive force, Chase brought me to Atlanta and got
me security work at his company until I found work on my
own. I stayed with him and Lori and their kids for a while.
I enjoyed playing Uncle Tommy to his two boys. Still do.
I like the way they squeeze my muscles and think I’m Superman.
I hold each of them in the air and fly them to the moon. “Take
me to the moon,” they shout as soon when they see me.
And Lori. A little too proper
for me, but what a choice piece of ass. I remember telling
Chase at the wedding that I used to think he was queer, but
he did all right for himself. They met at college, Penn fucking
State. When I graduated high school, our parents wouldn’t
pay for me to go to college. They said I wasn’t academic
material. The old man took a second job when it came Chase’s
time.
They were probably right. College
for me would have been a place to get laid. Chase was always
more serious. So, I hold no grudges. Our folks did what they
thought best, and I love my kid brother.
The food comes and the booze
is making me feel good, so I don’t even mention how small
a piece of beef they serve for $18.95. He orders white wine
with his fish. I have another Scotch.
I’m still wondering why he
invited me for lunch, but I figure he’ll tell me in good
time. I eat my meal and keep up my end of the conversation.
Chase has hardly touched his
food. He looks like he wants to talk. I keep eating. Finally,
he puts down his fork and says, “Tommy, I need your help.”
I wait for him to speak, but
he stays silent. His nose gets redder than usual.
“Lori is having an affair.”
Now, I hear my own heart beating.
Shit, I think. This shouldn’t happen to Chase and the boys.
I force myself to look him in the eye. “You sure?”
“Yes…no. I mean, I don’t know
for sure, but she’s different. In bed, you know?”
I want to ask him how, but
I don’t dare say anything.
“I have no proof,” he says. “Maybe
I’m just being an idiot. I tried talking to her, but she
denied there was anything going on. She said I was imagining
things.” He finishes the last of his wine. “But, there’s
something in her voice, her eyes. I know she’s cheating on
me, Tommy.”
“Who with? You got any idea?”
“No, not a clue. I feel like
such a fool.”
I take a deep breath and exhale
slowly. I want to say something to him, something that’ll
make him feel better. But all I can say is, “What do you
want me to do?”
“Investigate,” he says. “Find
the bastard and…and take care of him.”
I make my living off people
like Chase and Lori. I follow them around, checking out what
they’re up to. I work for a group of divorce lawyers who
pay me for information, especially if it comes with photographs.
“You sure you want me to do
this?”
“Yes,” he says quickly, like
he’s afraid to give himself time to think. “I don’t even
want to know who it is. Just take care of him. I don’t want
to lose Lori.”
He isn’t making sense. I don’t
ask him what he means by taking care of him because he pulls
out this wad of cash, pays the bill, and says, “I’ll pay
for your time. And something extra.” He hands me a lot of
money. “This should get you started.”
I take his money. He’s got
plenty to spare. “I’ll handle this,” I say. He holds out
his hand and we shake. He even grabs my shoulder. I’m not
a hugger, but I wrap my arms around him. His eyes are red.
I pat him on the back a couple of times and tell him it’s
going to work out.
Our father always told me to
watch out for Chase, being his big brother and all. So, I
guess I should do this as a favor and not take his money.
But, what the hell? Maybe I don’t eat lunch at fancy bistros,
but I got expenses, too. Besides, spying on my sister-in-law
isn’t exactly my idea of fun.
Well, maybe it is, a little.
It takes me all of two afternoons to discover that she and
one of the suits in the office where she works do more than
exchange quarterly reports. One day, they spend their lunch
in some swanky Thai place downtown and the next day they
go straight to a hotel for their dessert. I worked the hotel
before, so it doesn’t take much of Chase’s money for me to
get the clerk to tell me the suit’s name—the schmuck uses
his credit card—and how often they make use of the hotel’s
services.
“Every Thursday, like clockwork.
For the past two months.”
For an extra hundred, he offers
to make me a room key, so I can surprise them and take their
picture.
“No need,” I tell him. “Not
this time.” But I give him another fifty bucks for being
such a concerned citizen.
So, now I have a decision to
make. Do I go to Lori, tell her what I know and threaten
her with my divorce lawyer pals? But, that’s probably not
what Chase wants.
I decide to do what I’ve done
since Chase was a kid.
The suit’s name is Leonard
Kinkaid. I go to his office and tell his secretary I need
to see him about a private matter involving Chase Tamaroff.
Lori uses her maiden name at work, so I’m fairly sure the
secretary doesn’t make a connection. Kinkaid opens his door
and asks what he can do for me. I don’t speak until the door
closes behind me.
He’s tall, dark hair combed
straight back, with the kind of face you see on TV, reading
the six o’clock news. The handkerchief in the breast pocket
of his suit matches his tie. I hate him immediately.
One solid right to his gut
and a knee to his nuts, and he’s on the floor throwing up
his lunch. I tell him to break it off with Lori, and not
to tell her or anyone about our little chat, or next time
I won’t be so gentle. I also mention the divorce firm I work
for, since he’s wearing a wedding ring. I reach down to him
and he thinks I’m offering him a hand to get back up on his
feet. Instead, I grab his handkerchief and use it to wipe
the puke on the floor and his face. In that order.
I close the door behind me
and smile at his secretary.
When I get to my car, I call
Chase and tell him the matter is taken care of. I ask if
he wants to know the asswipe’s name. He says no.
The following Thursday I check
with my favorite hotel clerk and he assures me Mr. Kinkaid
and friend broke their string of eight Thursdays in a row.
That Sunday afternoon I drop
by my brother’s house with a nice bottle of wine and presents
for my nephews. I tell Lori I came into some money.
