Summer Serial: Part VI

Ray wasn’t as pissed off as I thought he’d be. He didn’t yell at me, or call me any names. He was more worried about whether anyone knew I was using prostitutes. He felt I had to be squeaky clean, or we’d be in big trouble fast. He was damned if he was going to be brought down by someone who was too pathetic to get laid without paying for it. So we talked about who knew, and who didn’t. The only other person who knew about any of this would be Tito, the drug dealer outside of Young Neil. He’d seen me picking up women before on Beale Street. He works there in the evenings after all the yuppies have left the business district. Tito usually sold cocaine downtown, but crack was much more lucrative on Beale.
Ray wasn’t too worried about Tito. It isn’t often that one is brought down by a drug dealer. As far as I knew, nobody else had seen me picking up prostitutes, and I had a hard time believing that anyone would pay enough attention. Hookers are well known on Beale Street, and nobody is surprised when they see someone picking one up. They look like you’d expect them to look: bald, unattractive, usually in suits (making a quick stop on their way home). The sight becomes so common that one usually files it in the back of his or her mind as casually as a Budweiser billboard.
Ray was also concerned about Henry being offended, but even Henry seemed to understand. We met the next day and I explained everything to him. I apologized profusely, and he shook it off like it was no big deal.
My first impression of Henry was one of disappointment. I was expecting him to look like Ray Liotta, but Hill was actually pretty short and pudgy. He was balding and hunched over most of the time. He basically looked like a weasel. I shouldn’t have been too surprised; after all, this was the guy who ratted out some of his life-long friends. He didn’t seem like the loyal type.
Right away, I could tell that Henry was high. He kept sniffing his nose, and fidgeting with his drink. He chewed on the straw until it was nothing more than a crumpled piece of deformed-looking plastic, then he took the straw out of my drink and started chewing on it. Everyone knew that Hill was still doing Cocaine. As I said before he was just busted for trying to deal again, but he was confident about beating the case. He said he had his own ways of defending himself. I was sure that he meant he bought off the jury, or the judge.
“Fuckin’ whores, they’re ain’t a decent one out there.” He was speaking so fast I could barely understand him. “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me, but I’ve had my fair share of women fucking me over, if you know what I mean.”
I smiled and nodded. It wasn’t like he was being subtle about it. I tried to steer the conversation back to business. I didn’t want to relive the ugly parts of the past anymore than he wanted to talk about all the friends he fucked over. Besides, I’d been a union leader for several weeks, and I still hadn’t done anything. I asked Henry how we should start. The first thing he said truly shocked me.
“Well, if we’re going to make any money out of this, we’ll have to threaten to strike.”
I wasn’t aware of the moneymaking aspect. We’d done illegal things before, but I just told myself that it was to get our feet in the door. After all, in this day and age, one has to do something at first or that person will spend the rest of his or her life living at the bottom. But deliberately manipulating the unions, and the employees we’ve pledged to fight for seemed too blatantly wrong…at first. But, what else could I have expected? He was a gangster. Ray didn’t bring him in to do accounting.
“What exactly will we strike for?” It was all I could think to ask.
”What do you mean?”
“I mean, if we’re going to strike, won’t we need some sort of grievance? We can’t just up and say we’re pissed off and that we won’t work until we’re not pissed off, so what’s pissing us off?”
”Wow, Ray said you weren’t very bright, but this is ridiculous.”
“What.”
“Forget it. Basically, all we need to do is make something up. How much were you paid at your job?”
”Minimum wage.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t a very diff…”
“NO!”
“…No?”
“NO! Minimum wage is a travesty, a fucking shame, a goddamn crime against humanity. How many pieces of mail does the average lawyer get at Young Neil every day?”
”…About five, maybe more depending on…about five.”
”Multiplied by how many lawyers?” I was beginning to see what he meant.
“A couple hundred.”
“And would you say that some of these letters were pretty important?”
”…I guess so. Sometimes they’ll receive really impor…”
”And if you don’t deliver these letters, who will?”
”I dunno. Somebody…”
“At what they’re paying, I don’t fucking think so. You’re providing a crucial service to these people and all they want to give you is the bare minimum. What we need to do is show these cheap bastards just how much they need you. Can you imagine what would happen if all mail service just shut down at these big places? Things would be terrible. Lawsuits would be lost, clients would be lost, and the firm would go broke in a day.”
“You may have a…”
“Face it. These guys should be thanking God every day that you were there for them. Minimum wage, shit.” He leaned back, attempting to look exhausted from grieving his startling revelation, but the cocaine was betraying him. Unfortunately, my eyes were too greedy to see it. He could have read that speech monotone off a cue card, and I wouldn’t have cared, I bought hook, line and sinker.
“You’re right. After all I’ve done for them, what’s in it for me? I deserve profit sharing, medical benefits, and all that other stuff.”
”When we’re done, you shall have it my friend.”
I was so excited at the idea of actually getting something out of these lawyers who have made me feel like nothing for so long that I forgot about the moral flexibility I would have to acquire to achieve the goals Henry wanted me to achieve.
He went on to say that the beautiful part was that we would be able make one of our demands a donation to the Teamster’s pension fund. That money could easily be used for other things, and no one would notice; at least, that’s what Henry said. So we set out to strike and claim our own piece of the pie. Even then, I was only thinking about how much of that was going to into my own bank account. I had forgotten that there was such a thing as mailroom employees. All I cared about them now was that they promise not to do their job until our ‘demands’ were met.
Anyone who thought that Henry was going to stop at having workers strike for personal benefit was wrong, and no one knows it better than I. I didn’t think that it was a one time thing, and I never thought that it couldn’t get any worse. I just chose not to think.

To Be Continued...

Summer Serial: Part V

As I said before, Allen was able to escape the wrath of June Reid. Ray had him moved to another bed while June was having her sponge bath, and he sent her flowers, chocolate, and all kinds of other gifts. She was still intent on finding out who had crashed into her, but her thirst for this information was somewhat lessened by Ray’s generosity.
June gave a vague description of the perpetrator, and she wasn’t able to give much of a description of the car. All the police knew about the guilty party was that he was a white, bald male in his early thirties. The only reason the police weren’t able to connect his accident with hers was because he was able to partially flee the scene, and convince the police that he was the victim of an assault (something that sounded very unlikely, and probably unbelievable, but for the generous bribe Ray had offered to the officers). The officers convinced June that the person got away, another thing that wouldn’t have been possible if Allen hadn’t stolen the car he was using. It ended up belonging to one of the partners at Young-Neil. Allen used to steal employees’ cars from our company parking lot, and take them for a ride on his lunch break. I guess everyone needs hobbies.
So, that tragedy was put behind us for the moment. The only thing we would have to do is make sure that Allen never show up at the office when June was around. We were lucky that she hadn’t recognized him from work, and we didn’t want to push our luck. The problem was that June was insisting on meeting with me every week to talk about ”business,” and if you couldn’t tell already, Allen was a very impulsive person. So I started to have Tim watch Allen every time I met with June and notify me if he was ever on his way to the office.

Having gotten over that, I could go back to selecting a team. Tim and Allen were the only two major partners I’d been able to bring on. Ray felt that someone with more experience would have been useful, and I was happy to comply.
Henry Hill, as most people know, made a name for himself as being a wiseguy in the mafia during the 1960s and 70s. He would save his own ass in the 80s by turning in some of his best friends. He spent his time testifying at trials, working with the FBI, and selling cocaine. Obviously, it was the cocaine part that got him into trouble. He was busted in Seattle in 1985 for possession, and was again arrested not long ago on the same charges. The most recent charges had been of some concern to Ray, but Henry was able to pay off the judge and get the whole episode behind him. Hill had been so useful to the FBI that they turned their heads to his extra-curricular activities; Henry used this to his advantaged.
So I have to admit I was a little worried when Ray ordered me to take Hill on as my chief advisor. I agreed, but it was only after the strictest reassurances from Ray that Hill had mended his ways that I agreed to take him on. Ray’s speech about how he owned me, and he was the boss also helped me make my decision. We scheduled a meeting for a week later where we would talk about what Hill could do for us.
This next part I must say is a little embarrassing for me. Those of you reading will tell me how much of an idiot I am, but I only ask you to try and see this one from my point of view.
Imagine that you’ve spent the last four years working in the mailroom of a law firm after having graduated college. You spend your entire day where people don’t know that you have some intelligence beyond memorizing what floor accounting is on, and where docketing information goes. You spend your days working hard, and nothing ever gets noticed. When you do your job right, no one knows that you’re doing it, and that’s the point of your job. You give the people their mail, take whatever they have, and deal with it without screwing up.
It’s a thankless job, and you have a thankless boss who knows perfectly well how thankless your job is, and he couldn’t care less as long as you do it right. You do all this making minimum wage, and you wonder whether life is worth living. That’s when you go home to your crappy apartment and watch TV until the next day when you do it all over again. You work hard, so you rarely screw up, but no one’s perfect and every once in a while you make a small mistake. It’s then that some secretary screams at you for being a total dumb ass and writes up a complaint to your boss. Your boss, of course, welcomes this news with open arms because he knows that enough of these complaints will get you fired, and there’s nothing your boss likes more than firing people.
So you walk home from work along one of the seedier streets in the city, and you come across all kinds of people including drug dealers, prostitutes and the homeless. You look at all these people as if you’re better than them, but the only real difference is that you have a job, and you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life. But, these prostitutes intrigue you, and you see them every day, every day that you spend your life in quiet desperation, wanting nothing more than to be noticed for something positive.
You live a life of insignificance, and there’s nothing you want more than feel like you make a difference in someone’s life. You think a girlfriend would make your problems go away, but she ends up faking a pregnancy, and when you find out she’s lying, she dumps you because you’re too desperate to dump her. You live a life of insignificance, and the idea of a prostitute doesn’t sound too bad too you. So you buy one once, and you wake up the next morning feeling better. It’s not because you’ve been laid, it’s because someone has seen you outside of your invisible role at work, and it gives you an excuse to act like a social person again.
So cast all the judgment you want on me, but just remember that you don’t have my job, and if you do, you probably don’t have my life, and if you do, then you might want to try getting a hooker, it makes the pain go away.
I had a run in with Allen the day before the Henry Hill meeting, and I was fuming. I had to use some of the company funds to bail him out of jail for the second time in a week. The first time, he was in a bar fight, and he’d accidentally taken a swing at a policeman. The second time, he was driving drunk in a farmer’s field just outside of town. I had no idea how he’d gotten there, and neither did he for that matter, but there he was, and the cops took him in again. We got in a long fight that ended up with him punching me in the gut, causing me to spit up blood. It was a nasty occasion, and I’d started to feel insignificant again. So, I went to Beale Street to find a prostitute.
I found a new girl who I’d never seen before. She was gorgeous (she looked like she hadn’t been a professional for very long) and better yet, she was cheap. Alarm bells should have been ringing, but it wasn’t like I did this every day. I wouldn’t know what the alarm was when it went off. We went back to my place where she suggested that we have some fun with handcuffs. Now, just for the record, I’ve heard about the Seinfeld episode with George, and the woman who ties him up and takes his clothes many times since this has happened, but I hadn’t seen it then. You spend years watching Seinfeld reruns, and you figure that you’ve seen them all. But there’s always one that you just happen to miss. After all, you can’t watch it every night.
So you probably know what happens here. I realized while I was sitting for eighteen hours, tied to my bed with no clothing or telephone within reach, that the reason I’d never seen her before and that she was so cheap was because she did this with everyone. I felt more insignificant at that moment than at any other time in my life. It wouldn’t be until the next night that Tim would think to look for me at my place. He busted the door down (it took about half an hour, he’s pretty weak), went straight to my closet for some clothing, and he threw it to me without looking. I went straight for the phone to call Ray. I had missed the Hill meeting, lost all my money, and had humiliated myself. I was about to call a man who cared about me just enough to make me feel like a total loser for what I’d done. I was not looking forward to making this call.

To Be Continued…

Summer Serial: Part IV

“I fuckin’ should have known. It’s always the most successful ones who are the most corrupt.” Ray was in as good a mood as I would ever see when I told him what happened. “You fucked it up, but you still managed to land on a pot of fuckin’ gold.”
I quit my job a week later, and was getting ready to represent the mailroom workers of America on behalf of the Teamsters. Ray left most of the day-to-day responsibilities with me. But just to be sure I didn’t screw up too much, he put Tim in as my assistant, knowing that Tim wouldn’t hesitate to inform him anytime I screwed up. I reluctantly took on Tim, but it wouldn’t be enough. I decided to hire on a few more people from the mailroom, and Ray was there to help me make my decisions. Allen wasn’t so much of a choice as it was extortion. He knew what went down, and he wasn’t about to see the train leave without him. I wasn’t sure what job to give him, so I appointed him “Special Agent Man In Charge Of Research And Opposition.” Allen liked the sound of the job, especially since it meant having nothing to do with filing paper. I also knew that his skills for inflicting pain might come in handy later on. It had been a fast month since I left Young-Neil, but I was learning plenty.
Not long after I started working, June Reid contacted me to set up a meeting. I brought Ray along just to make sure everything went well. I was so happy with my newfound fortune, and I didn’t want to do anything to screw it up. June also found the world of the ethically challenged an easy one to become acclimated to. She demanded a monthly payment of 2% of our earnings. I wasn’t sure exactly where we would get these earnings from, but Ray assured me it wouldn’t be difficult. She gave us a bank account number and instructions on when and where to wire her the money. I didn’t want to do this at first, but Ray assured me I had no choice. “Besides,” he went on to say, “We’ll find some way to get rid of that heartless bitch. It just might take a little time.”
I figured it would be a good time to give Al his first job.
“My name is Allen you pansy, not Al. Call me Al again and I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
“Sorry, Allen. I have your first job for you. I want you to look into June Reid’s background and find anything we could possibly blackmail her with. I don’t want to use it yet, but I don’t trust her, and neither does Ray.” Allen once told me while I was buying him lunch that he’d done some shady investigating before he went to prison. No one knew why he wasn’t still doing it, but we didn’t dare ask.

”You mean Ray doesn’t trust her, and you’ll do what he says you fuckin’ bullshitter.”
“Wait a goddamn min…”
“Don’t say another word. I’ll kick your fucking teeth in. I’ll do this, but I’m going to need a bonus.” Allen had already ‘negotiated’ a salary that was almost twice my own. Ray said that it was necessary to hire someone like Allen, and that he’d cost more. I tried to plead with Ray, claiming I wouldn’t be able to control him, and he wouldn’t do anything unless I had some leverage on him. But Ray assured me that he’d fall into line.
“How much more do you want. You’re already making more than anyone here.”
“I want as much as I goddamn please, now give me another five grand and I’ll find out if this woman fucks donkeys.”
I reluctantly gave him the money, but I also warned him that I needed the information before I made her first payment. Allen gave me an indifferent look and left the room.

While I was taking care of intelligence, Ray was taking care of finance. Now that we were officially affiliated as a legitimate chapter of the Teamsters, we were given a monthly operating budget. But Ray wasn’t satisfied with that. He said that we would have to earn supplemental income to keep people like Allen and our shiftier employees around.
“I say we take some fuckin’ bribes.” His words hit me like a rock. Already we’d done more illegal things than I was comfortable with, and now he wasn’t even trying to hide what we were doing. But Ray could see I was uneasy, and he did his best to comfort me. “Don’t piss your fuckin’ pants, Suzie. You don’t have to do a fucking thing. Just know that I’m going to be doing this, and without it, your piss poor operation wouldn’t last a week.”
That was about as much as we would discuss regarding bribes. The only other time I brought it up was when he asked me to have some mailroom workers in Sacramento strike. He wouldn’t tell me why, and when I asked them if we owed someone a favor, he slapped me in the face and walked out.
“He doesn’t mean to hurt you,” said Tim who had witnessed the whole thing, “he just gets a little up tight sometimes.”
“Fuck off, Tim.” I had run back to my office after the incident and started crying. Tim came in without knocking for which I threw a paperweight at his head. I guess he was used to abuse because he barely blinked when it happened. He was trying calm my nerves and make me feel better, but I was in no mood for it. I just didn’t want to look at his monkey-ass anymore.

Allen hadn’t reported to me since we discussed his first assignment. I just assumed all was going well until the night I had to wire the money to June Reid. I waited until the last possible second, but I still hadn’t heard from Allen. I finally gave in and wired the money anyways. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. If she were planning on turning us into the authorities, the only leverage for blackmail would be my word against hers that she took eighty thousand dollars from us (finally built up the courage to ask Ray how much we tried to bribe Jack with, and he reluctantly let me know). She was a successful partner at a very successful law firm, and I was a semi-legitimate union organizer. We had a Republican state government at the time, so there was no doubt as to who would be fighting on the low ground here.
The next morning, I found Allen at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital. He suffered a broken collarbone and leg. When I was finally able to get in to speak with him, I demanded to know what happened.
“You know you’re paying for the hospital bill, asshole.”
“That’s fine, but what happened with June Reid?”

”That fucking bitch. I couldn’t find a goddamn thing on her; so I thought I’d create something we could black mail her with. I crashed into her car, knowing that if I were injured, she would just flee the scene. Then we’d have her by the balls. I got these injuries from the crash.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What made you think this would work, you fucking idiot?!”
“When I get out of here, I’m kicking your ass.”

”Where is she now?”

”She’s in the room next to me. She wasn’t wearing her seat belt. I think I broke her arms, and one of her legs. Hey…do you think we can black mail her with that; failing to use a seatbelt?”
I was too distraught to say anything more. Ray came in and saved the day. He brought June a gift basket and made sure she didn’t know who had hit her. He paid Allen’s bills in advance, and escorted me home. On our way out, he said, “That Neanderthal shithead friend of yours doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. We should limit his functions to fuckin’ blue-collar work from now on. You got that, you fuckin’ fuck up?”

To Be Continued…