Ethan crossed [insert street], slowly jogging as the red
hand went from blinking to stagnant. He had yet to return any of Philip’s
calls. In fact, he purposely blocked his number for the past two days.
He was coming from
lunch with Darlene so he was in the area.
He decided going to Phil’s office in person would pull the band-aid in a
quick swoop.
He strolled up to the office casually. “Hey Skyl—“, he
started instinctively before seeing the new secretary. A clean cut Korean guy sat in her place. “Hermes”
according to his gold name plaque on the desk.
“How may I help you?” he inquired with an effeminate voice.
Ethan leaned against the wrap-around desk and tapped his
fingers on the counter. “Phil? He in?”
“Mr. Weinstein", Hermes austerely corrected, "is
in a very important meeting. If you’ll please have a seat.” Hermes gestured to the seats behind Ethan, whom didn’t mind waiting if it meant avoiding
the inevitable. “Your name sir?” Hermes asked, eyes averted to a computer screen.
“Ethan Campb—Matthews. Ethan Matthews.”
Hermes’ eyes widened and he looked back at Ethan, “Mr.
Matthew’s! My sincerest apologies. I didn’t know; we weren’t expecting you”, he
referred to the computer in blame, “but Mr. Feinstein specifically said to get
a hold of you a.s.a.p. And you’re here!” he excitedly threw his hands up. “I’ll
let Mr. Feinstein know immediately.”
He punched a button on the phone intercom, “Mr. Feinstein,
Mr. Matthews just arrived.” He smiled
and nodded at Ethan.
“Send in the son of a bitch in five!” Ethan heard Phil’s distinctive
voice on the other end. “Wait, did he hear that? Am I on speaker?”
Hermes cringed, waiting for the fireworks, “Um….yes?” He
whispered.
“Good! Hey Ethan, FUCK YOU! You think you’re all that and a
bag of potato chips? Fine! But when daddy calls, you better pickup. You would
be nowhere without me and look how you treat me.” At this point, the phone was
unnecessary as you could hear him from behind the closed door. Heads popped up like prairie dogs from the cubicles in the adjacent common
space. “Help yourself to some donuts and coffee!” Philip ended before the line
went dead.
Hermes was covering his mouth in shock. “Don’t worry”, Ethan reassured, “This was
nothing. You should’ve seen him when I went off the grid on a backpacking trip.
He hired a P.I. to find me. True story”, he gave the counter two gentle knocks
before back pedaling towards the chairs, pointing back at Hermes assuredly.
Office of Philip Feinstein
Ethan slouched in the oxblood
Corinthian leather chairs. The office was on the colder side; low 70s. The
walls were lined with bookshelves containing an assortment of books from
Ethan’s contemporaries. He would've be surprised if Phil had even read half of them. He had a team for
that. The books were simply novelty aesthetics for his office; first-edition
collectibles to represent his legacy. Phil sat behind a stained redwood desk in
a high-backed chair made of the same material as the one Ethan sat on. He was
laughing and carrying on the conversation he was in before Ethan sat down. Ethan
stared at a family picture facing outward on the desk: two daughters and a son;
the eldest probably in her mid-30s and the younger two in their early to mid
twenties.
“I’ll have my underwriter draw something up.” Phil concluded
the phone call.
He redirected his attention to Ethan, “So, Mr. Hot-shot-writer! I read your manuscript.” He said, teetering the pages back and forth
with his thumb and index finger.
“Where’s Skyler?” Ethan asked, ignoring the comment
entirely, “Who’s that guy?”
“What? This guy?” Phil pointed in the general direction of
the secretary desk outside, “He’s my son’s….” Phil thought carefully about his
word choice, “partner or whatever. It was a favor.” He shook his head indignantly, “It’s
like you have to buy your kid’s love these day, amiright?”
“…So no more Skyler?” Ethan was slightly upset.
“No no. I have that guy come in for Skyler for a week of the
month.” Phil dropped two Alka-Seltzer tabs in some water.
Ethan had an outlandish thought to why Phil would do this. I mean, he wouldn’t put it past him.
But he hoped he was wrong.
“Why?” He decided to humor Phil.
“Well, you see, women are different than men. Every month
they have this cycle, you see.” Ethan waved his hand, cutting Phil off. Exactly what he thought. He knew
where he was going with that biology lesson.
“You’re telling me you don’t let her work when she’s on her
period? Mr. Feinstein, that is extraordinarily offensive!” Ethan couldn’t
believe that he had to make that clear.
“What? It’s P.T.O! Everyone wins! Besides, if you asked her
if she wanted the P.T.O. or to stand for some feminist malarkey, I guarantee
you, she’d take the check.”
Ethan hated to admit it, but Phil did have a point. He was
just glad that Skyler was still hired.
“Anyway, business: This book of yours. What is it?” Phil
didn’t waste any time. Ethan kinda hoped he would drop a hint for him to work
with. No such luck.
Shit you tell me.
“A consequential multiverse involving Hitler’s son”, Ethan
repeated the same description as when he dropped it off last week. That’s all
he really did know about the prose.
“Smart guy, ay?” Philip was far from bemused, “Listen you
prick! Buy a couple of weeks, a month even; I’m fine with that. Couple of
advances on your bonus, no sweat.” He leaned in and folded his hands together
on top of the script lying on the desk, “But you plagiarize Hilsenrath
and arbitrarily throw in pieces from your old college work THAT I REJECTED
BEFORE, then I have to fuck you in the streets!” Philip sipped on his seltzer
water. Again, way to calm for what he was saying.
The mention of Hilsenrath triggered Ethan’s transitive
memory. He remembered pouring himself a triple of Crown Royal before he started
writing. Realizing he knew very little about the Third Reich, he went for the
only Holocaust narratives he owned: Night by
Elie Wiesel and The Nazi that lived as a
Jew by Edgar Hilsenrath. Is it wrong to
quote half a book? I’ll cite it! He didn’t know what to say. He felt his
depression and anxiety set in with the realization of another Ethan Campbell
classic fuck up.
Phil pulled Ethan away from his internalized self-loathing,
“Look, kid. I heard about your girlfriend and the accident. Talk about your
case of the Mondays, amiright?” Ethan rolled his eyes and threw his head back
in annoyance, but Phil continued anyway, “I know you’re not in the best state
of mind. I’ve been there….sorta…not really. But I can imagine. Anyway, being the gracious god that I am, I’ll give you 3 more
months to get your shit straight.” Phil nodded heavily, giving Ethan a single
option to work with, “I better have something on by desk October 1st
that gets me rock hard. Not October 2nd; the FIRST… or you’re
through.” He pushed the manuscript toward Ethan, sliding it off the desk and right into his lap.
“Yeah, I will...um, thank you for understanding.” Ethan got up
to leave but Philip stopped him at the door.
“Nuh uh uh! Not so fast, 'Boy Meets World'." Phil wagged a
finger
Ethan dreaded what was about to come next. He closed his eyes in a
wince as he slowly turned back around to face Phil.
“The card, pretty boy.” Phil meant the company debit card
with Ethan’s bonus and per diem, “You’ll get the keys to the castle back once
you bring me something to get my rocks off to.”
Ethan pusillanimously walked back over to Phil’s desk,
dragging his feet. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his new Gucci
wallet and dug out his card. He stared at it for a moment.It was still immaculate and unweathered; the raised numbers on the front still retained their silver paint. Without you, I’m literally broke. We had some good times, ol' friend. Phil promptly confiscated the
plastic and in one motion, instantly executing it with office-sized scissors. Ethan vicariously felt
the cut.
“Now go fetch daddy a story.”
Ethan stepped out of the office building for the second time
in two weeks. His elation from the former was replaced now with despair. He had
gone from riches to rags quicker than it takes a virgin to climax. I’m not even back to where I started. I’m in
a worse boat.
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