DC - Chapter 18
Things more or less organized themselves neatly and directly. Panic was reminded of an old saw he remembered from somewhere…
'When you are in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing… success will happen all by itself.'
George had worked all of one day with a sketch artist, and the two of them worked on it a smudge here and a scratch there over the next day and a half. Until George made a face, and the sketch artist lady smiled, she knew that look.
A day off was suggested, and it was onto the digital sketch artist. George had to work from scratch all over again and was not allowed to look at the previous real life sketch. This time around he got to change eyes in and out. Change cheeks, chins, foreheads. Facial lines, skin tones, blemishes… the works. When that digital artist who really was just managing the software package on his behalf saw "the face", he displayed the same smile the lady artist had worn.
Both faces had remarkable similarities, and differed by only the tiniest of almost imperceptible and subtle differences.
Panic and Speedy and both FBI agents and the lawyer hovering over him… George realized he had been silently surrounded from behind, and that everyone had stayed quiet out of respect. He glanced over his shoulder, and back to staring at the various eyes peeking back at him from all the faces on the large board arranged in a matrix.
Both sketches, digital and real life, were on opposite ends of the board at the top line… and the one slowly changed/morphed into the second one as versions went across. It was like looking at a string of identical twins that all grew up in different towns.
As the matrix grew down, various lines had different things changed. Glasses and no glasses, different styles of glasses. Smiles and frowns, tans and winter skins. Various beards and mustaches and stubble were worked in and out. It all produced a gigantic board of… the same guy.
Someone had a wise ass sense of humor, and had taped up a photocopy of an Elvis impersonator photo above the large board, but had failed to claim credit for their attempt at gallows humor. Since he was known to George as "Mr. King", and to the FBI as "a gypsy king"… well, Elvis made sense.
George's lawyer scuffed up almost to his side, and put his hand warmly on his friend's shoulder. He spoke softly, almost reverently…
"You okay, George?"
"Yeah…"
"I know you're scared, but we can---"
"No… not scared, not anymore. Just… I don't know… tired?"
Speedy offered…
"We, uh… we can take a break, George. You wanna grab a sandwich or something? You're not on any kind of a clock here, you know…"
"Ah, not that kind of tired. Just… I don't know how to say it. What is it, when you start out scared. Then, you… what, you get… used to being scared? You get so damned used to it, then… you just don't realize it, till you wake up one day, and… you're what, calm? Yeah. I'm not tired, I'm… calm about it. Am I making any sense at all? No… of course not… I'm babbling like a retard…"
George's lawyer had stepped back, and Panic had inched forward. He spoke softly. Barely above a stage whisper, in soft, soothing tones… as he slowly oozed his hand onto George's shoulder as stealthily as the lawyer had. His whispers were somehow slightly… almost hypnotic, and in some non erotic way… perhaps even seductive in nature…
"No, George. I know what this is… I've been there."
George idly wondered, not taking his eyes off of the family of killers on the wall, which were all the same man…
"You've been… where, Panic…"
"Hell, George. Real life, honest to goodness hell. I know what hell is, George. Hell? Is simply living in fear… and not being able to do anything about it… every day, you know that hell is there. That fear, and there's nothing that can stop it…"
"Really?"
"Yes. George. This is no different than when a little boy is getting beat up every other day, by the bigger older bully at school. You know it's coming. Again and again… and there's nothing you can do about it… simple fear… and the fear is the hell…"
George started to say something…
"Shh, George… it's all right. The dad tells the little boy, as do all the teachers and uncles… why, you just need to turn around and BOP that bully a good one, you know? Right in the nose! That will fix him!… but you can't… because you're afraid, it doesn't work."
George tried again…
"Shh… it doesn't work when you're afraid. Nothing can work, in hell. But? One day you realize you feel tired. Tired of being afraid. One day? You just stop… and you turn around… and you realize you're going to get smacked around again, like always… why NOT kick the bully in the nuts before he does it… why NOT drive a sharpened number two pencil deep into his left shoulder… and try to bash his head off the wall."
George lost again…
"Shh. The end of the road? Is acceptance George… you simply accept your fate… and then you don't care any more. Then? The devil loses all his power… and hell? Simply disappears like smoke and vanishes."
George now knew better than to try…
"Yeah, George… you accept fate now. Fear? All gone. Hell? Poof, gone. THIS, George… THIS is when the little boy becomes dangerous… THIS… is when the soldier turns around, and refuses to run anymore."
George waited, for whatever punch line might be coming… and Panic whispered coy…
"This is when men, become the most dangerous they can be, George… because this? Is when the hunter? Suddenly has become the prey."
George finally found his quiet voice…
"Really…?"
"Yep… you've been living like a sheep, George… for far too many years now… it's time for the sheep? To find out what WOLF burgers taste like…"
And Panic ever so gently padded his hand on George's shoulder, as he slid it off. Then slowly turned and walked away, and out of the room silently. Everyone just looked at one another, and back and forth… the hell was that? Where did that come from.
So, not knowing what to do or say, and not wanting to interrupt George's new soft voice that sounded… good? They simply by one's and two's drifted off and busied themselves doing… nothing.
By the time Panic came back into the room, sipping a can of soda out of a machine he had retrieved down the outside hall, George was standing with his back to the devil's hell wall.
He was smiling. Easily. Some kind of gentle twinkle was in his eye.
Speedy asked…
"You okay, George?"
"Yeah! I am…"
George simply shrugged, and continued…
"I'm gonna go eat now. I want a big… rare… steak. Anyone?"
Panic smiled devilishly…
"I'll join you…"
And, the two of them walked off. The others listened at the conversation as they receded off. Junior G, the young tech agent, saw them down far enough they could make the rest of their way out themselves. All visitors had limited freedom in or out, until they got ID.
"Now, how rare are we talking, George?"
"Panic… I wanna taste the blood…"
"Yeah… me too, George. Me too… Now George?"
"Yeah…?"
"Don't you ever forget this fucking moment, you hear me. Never. You will… never… as long as you live? Ever be truly afraid, ever again. Not really… nothing but healthy respect, the healthy fear."
They continued to talk on the way down and out,because they had to pause to be escorted down by someone that had an FBI ID when Junior turned to go back up to his job, and had handed them off to some junior agent gopher doing this task for anyone escorting visitors out.
"You see, George… you now know what hell truly is. You've been there. Why would you ever want to go back. No need to answer me, it's rhetorical… why would you."
"Eh… I guess I wouldn't…"
"No, no guessing, George… you simply wouldn't. Period. End of story. I bet you think, that we… are going to lunch, to get that rare steak, don't you?"
"Well, I did think that…"
"Oh… we're going to get our rare steak, make no mistake about that, George… but it's no lunch…"
"Is it dinner?"
Panic shook his head no, smiling… almost… dangerously?
"No. This… this is going to be your first holy communion. Religion is for people that are afraid of going to hell. Spirituality is for people who have already been there."
"Isn't that just another kind of religion?"
"Nope. In a religion? You're told to just 'have faith'. In anything. Anything they say. If you question a single thing? Oh… see… you don't have enough faith. It's a fucking circle jerk. It's entirely nothing except dogma. You're told, usually from birth… things are like this… and you don't question anything… I say? Fuck that."
"But… I believe in God."
"Okay. Fine. Believe in God. Go to any church that pleases you. But… you're no longer some sheep anymore, George. You're a man. And men? Are predators. Predators… take what they want. Men… real men? Take what they want."
"I'm… uh… I'm not an asshole like that, Panic…"
"No, George… you can be as polite as the day is long… that's great. You can speak quietly and politely… even better. But, from now on? You don't ask… you tell."
They were now standing in front of the place they were going to eat at for lunch. Rare steaks awaited them. Panic paused them outside to speak a bit. They looked at posters of steaks outside like a movie theater would have movie posters.
He used his almost… seductive stage whisper again. Smiled his slightly dangerous devilish smile again. His eyes? Once again had that slight twinkle of… something. There was just a hint of flashing adrenaline.
"George. I've heard you order food. Here's what you do. You walk in, you sit down. You wait until someone comes over. They suggest a menu, you take it. They ask if you know what you want, and you look at the menu. Then? You get that… 'I'll be back…' bullshit. You always order the same stuff over and over again, why look? Fuck the menu. Tell them what you want, man! And, most important thing? You never ASK if you CAN have what you want… you TELL them what you WILL have."
George looked puzzled…
"George… trust me. Language? Is everything… why do you ask if you CAN have what you're paying to get? Of course you can! You're the one paying! You get what you want! You stop saying… can I have this, can I have that, can I have that on it? All you're doing, is giving them the opportunity to say no. All you're doing, is inviting the waitress to give you sass, to fuck with you, to come back whenever in the hell she feels like it."
"But… I'm not into this macho asshole shit, Panic…"
"Do you find me to be loud? Obnoxious? Impolite? Am I not as quiet and as polite as the day is long?"
George furrowed his brow…
"Yeah… you are quiet. You are polite…"
"But… just this first time. Let me order, okay? I wanna show you how it's done. Now, we both want really rare steaks, right?"
"Yeah."
"What do you wanna drink?"
"Uh… iced tea."
"Be specific. Sweet, or unsweetened?"
"Sweet."
"Lemon?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay. Let me show you how this is done. Quietly. Politely. With fun and humor… but I get what I want. Because I don't ask if I CAN have this or that… I tell them what I want. Then I simply get it. You probably never noticed this before in some people. I'm merely pointing it out for your benefit."
"Okay. I mean, go for it. I still get my rare steak, the hell do I care."
And Panic led them in. They stood there for all of perhaps 10 seconds, when a waitress waltzed by…
"You boys need a booth?"
"Sure do."
"Follow me…"
And they walked behind the girl. One of those women that were anywhere from 25 to 35 and it was hard to tell where in that range she fell.
As they sat down, the girl was about to leave when she added as an afterthought over her shoulder…
"You need menus?"
"Nah. Two steaks. Whatever the biggest one is. T-bone, Porterhouse. Whatever comes biggest."
She just shrugged and smiled and started scribbling on her little pad…
"How do you want those?"
"Bloody rare."
She smiled…
"But seriously…"
"I'm being serious. We want our steaks bloody rare."
"Okay…"
"Ma'am? Are you're steaks frozen?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know, frozen. You can pound a nail into a board with it, if its frozen?"
"No…"
"Right, this is a steakhouse. You probably have a glass windowed chiller. Thermometer showing… am I right?"
She furrowed her brow…
"Yeah…"
"Great! Tell the cook… when he's done with the other ones? Crank the flame up on high… grab the two biggest steaks you got? SEAR on high for 90 seconds… flip it, sear for 90 seconds? Slap it on two plates. Easiest thing in the world."
"Drinks?"
"He wants iced tea. Sweet. Lemon if you have it. I'll have an iced tea too…"
"You… want lemon? Sweet or unsweetened?"
"Ah… surprise me. Whichever. You know, dealer's choice."
She chuckled.
"Okay…"
"Now, ma'am?"
"Yeah?"
Panic took out a 20, and a 5… he first held the 20 up…
"Warm, salty blood on my tongue…"
Then, he held up the 5…
"Overcooked…"
She gave a wan little smile, and posed with her hand on her hip, and pointed with her pen…
"You're not getting my phone number…"
"Ma'am? That's optional… I already got a cat… and, we're very happy. Now, that warm salty blood on my tongue? That's… critical…"
"Okay…"
And, she scribbled away.
"Here…"
Panic handed her the 20…
"What's this for? I didn't get ya yer bloody meat yet…"
"I believe in you… go on, it's fine… I trust you."
She forrowed her brow again. Smiled. Grabbed the 20 and trotted off.
"Now George… critique me. Was I… how did you say it outside? Was I some macho asshole, ordering everyone around?"
"Well, no…"
"Was I not quiet. Polite. Did I not use a little bit of humor? Keep it all in fun?"
George looked off towards where the kitchen probably was, out of sight. Then back. Nodded.
"Key elements I used. I know what I want. I don't need to look at the stuff I don't want. I know exactly how I want it. If it doesn't come back exactly how I want it, that's my failing to have not expressed my wishes fully. I don't have to raise my voice. I don't have to insult anyone."
"You… don't think it's… rude to have told the cook how to do his job?"
"No. Not at all. I thoroughly expressed exactly what I want. She knows what I want. Now, he knows exactly what I want. Now, what I want, and how it gets done? I'm not back there, I can't really know. Maybe he can't turn the flame up… but, knowing exactly what I want? He can adjust, using his personal experience and knowledge, to get the job done. If he isn't allowed, or can't kick the flame up on high for 90 seconds? He can let it go for 180 seconds, each side."
"You… you really believe in this, don't you?"
"Hell yeah! I did everything except draw her a picture of what I want. See, we're different now, than everyone else in here… we're a novelty. She will discuss this novelty, with another waitress, with the cook… our order? Stands aside. We? Are now different."
"Is different good?"
"Is different inherently bad?"
"Eh…"
"Right. Also, waitresses have to guess. Wonder. Which table to spend that extra time on. Which table will reward her the most for her extra efforts. Which table will complain and demand extra work then stiff her? I gave the 20 dollar bribe. Up front."
"Well, what if we could have gotten the exact same thing, for ten bucks. We're wasting an extra ten bucks, right?"
Panic made a sour face…
"What do I give a shit about that for? I don't care about money. No way, no how. It's just little green pieces of paper. Look… we're the best customers possible. Its our job, to know what we want, and to best express what we want, in detail. I did that for us. Now, her job, and the cook's job? Is very clear… to please us. They want to please us. I want to make it easy for them to accomplish their goal. I don't want her wondering if I'm going to follow through on my promise, I give it to her up front."
"Christ… you're serious about this shit…"
"Hell yeah… now. I was quiet, I was polite. I used humor. Everyone now knows I'm a nice guy. They know exactly what I want, and that I'm willing to pay extra to make sure I get it. Also? Key element here… I complimented her. I told her… 'I believe in you.' People like it when you express confidence in them. People like it when you trust them. I made sure I told her I trust her."
"And… you think this somehow guarantees that we get our steaks extra rare like we want."
"You want a guarantee, you buy a toaster. And it still might not make your toast the way you want… there are no guarantees in life. But? My job right now, is to be the very best customer I can be. I have done everything I can possibly think of, to accomplish that. But… a guarantee? Doesn't exist."
"Question?"
"Shoot…"
"What was that business with ordering my iced tea, down to the last specification. Just like the steaks… then? You told her to surprise you, do whatever she wants, with your iced tea. I know you a little now… I bet that was no accident either… explain?"
Panic smiled gently…
"Sure. That was my subtle cue, to her. She doesn't even realize, I'm giving her signals, but… all the same, it gets through. The steaks? Are critical. Your tea? Important. My tea? I really don't care sweet or not, lemon or no lemon. I'm sending the signal, that if its important? I'll speak up… but, if it's not important? I'm not going to micromanage it, I'm not some overbearing asshole. I give her freedom in some area. She knows she has room to be herself, do what she thinks is best."
"Is this shit running through your mind all day all night? Jesus Christ…"
"No. I'm giving you the basics of being… not a sheep. This is where it starts. Everyday things, all around you, that you never think about. After a few times? It gets to be automatic. You change. You start telling, instead of asking. You explain what's important, and what's not important. You control what you think you must, and you make sure people are free to do everything else their way. You treat them as good as you can, and you compliment them, and show you have trust in them."
"You really don't care about money, do you Panic?"
"No. Not really. I mean, I know I need some, don't get me wrong… but… is it all about the money? No. Not at all. I don't care if I'm making minimum wage, or a million dollars a year. I do what I want. Now… when something interests me? I follow it. With everything in me, with every fiber of my being. Not for money, but to see if I can do it."
"Like what?"
"Anything. I'm no longer a computer programmer, for a long time now. I loved programming, but, I want other things. Things… that make me feel fulfilled. I wanted to learn to work on engines. Paint a car, if only half decent. Electronics. Electrical. I wanted to wire my own house. I wanted to learn how to gut a house, wire it, plumb it, do the drywall. I wanted to learn about shooting guns. Then shooting accurately. So, reloading. Tinkering with guns. I taught myself how to do basic machining. To write music. To be a writer."
"Doesn't all that take money?"
"Not as much as you think. Because I'm mechanical now, I can drive old cars and motorcycles and fix them. I can work on anything with an engine now because of that. Because of electronics and electrical? I can fix and rewire practically anything. I don't care how anything looks in my life… I don't care how desirable it is… If it works for me? That's all that matters."
"You quit following the herd then…"
"Yeah, long time ago. I was on track, to have a career. A good job. Try to move up in it, try to make more money. For what. To spend my entire life… doing what? Trying to spend every penny I made, trying to buy a new house, new car, new furniture, carpet, drapes, nick knacks, dishwasher… fuck that shit. It's a waste. We all only do it, because our friends and acquaintances do it, you know that right?"
"Really?"
"One or two guys in a group get married? All the rest follow suit quickly. If you're the last guy not married in the group? Simply everybody starts working you, to do it. Expensive house? Same shit. Wife sees neighbor's new furniture or new appliances, guess what you have to do now. FUCK that shit… I threw it all away."
"This works for you?"
"Fucking A right it does… here, let's look at a washing machine."
"Okay…"
"What's a good washing machine cost?"
"Oh… say 1200 bucks for the washer."
"Okay, might as well get the matching dryer, right? That's another what, 1000 dollars?"
George nodded…
"Okay… me? That's just my budget, that's 2200 dollars cash everyone else is willing to put out for what? A tub that fills up with water. Wiggles soapy water around. Pumps out the water, and fills up again. Wiggles around and pumps out the rinse water. Spins for a while, so you don't have to wring it out, then you toss it into the dryer. That's just a drum rolling around, with a thermostat on a heater."
"So?"
"I wash my clothes when I'm out shooting and camping for a week or two? In a five gallon bucket. I drop my socks and underwear, T shirt and work pants… down in a bucket. I fill it with whatever water I find. I squirt a blob of fucking dish soap down into it… I like orange and apple, by the way… I poke at it with a chunk of two by four for a minute or two. Then I dump the water out, and refill it and do it to rinse the soap out, I rinse a second time. Then? I wring out my clothes, and toss them over a string to dry."
"Yeah. You're camping. I get that…"
"Point is? Five minutes later, my clothes are drying themselves. No electric bill, for free. Tomorrow? I have clean clothes to put on, and I spend less than five minutes on the dirty ones. I'm done washing my clothes, start to finish, quicker than the washing machine. You can't tell a difference in the clothes unless I told you."
"Okay, but, how's this help you at home?"
"Ha… 2200 dollars? No way… I go to the used appliance store, and I get something that looks like shit, something old, that's easy to work on. Two hundred dollars later? I spend a weekend taking the panels off, and painting them. Replacing the wiring harness. Inspecting the pump… I found parts on the internet, NOS is New Old Stock… cheap and new parts. I already have a new control timer and a new pump, and a new water level sensor… ready to go to fix or rebuild anything that could go wrong. If I need a clutch or a motor? I know what I need to buy, I already know how to work on it. The dryer? Already has two new heating elements ready for backup, and a replacement thermostat and timer and safety switch. I got 300, maybe 350 total, all in. New paint, all new wiring, ready to go."
"You like to work on stuff, then. You're… a handyman…"
"Yes. I like, no, I love knowing how to work on the things now. I got over 1800 dollars left over in my "budget". I can buy another used gun, more electronics equipment for my electronics lab, more power tools… anything I want."
"You… sound like you're one of those people, who have the guts to live your life, your way."
"Well… now I am, I guess. I wasn't always this way. I started out… as that scared little kid. I guess… I thought I was getting what I wanted, with my programming career, but… I realized I was happier, in a lot of ways other than money, back in college. Working part time, learning and doing things. When one computer job ended, I went back to my college job to make do until the next computer job."
"And…?"
"And… in many ways, I was happier. With less money and more free time, working a couple days a week to get by. I was having a ball learning how to gut and wire and plumb my old house. Really got into working on my car and my motorcycle. When I got back into the next big computer job? I had more money, sure… but… I missed it. So, the next time it happened? I just stayed like that, and never went back."
"And… what did your woman think of this?"
"Oh. That. She was… more or less, mostly okay with it, for a while. Over time though? Slowly? I'm fairly sure, she thought it was a phase, or, something I would outgrow. The further along she got in her career… I guess, the further we grew apart."
"Panic… the guys. They told me, that you gave up your job, and your… woman… to keep getting somewhere on this case. That's true?"
"Oh, sure."
"Why?"
"Once it became clear, that we were actually getting somewhere on this case? This… is probably, I think, the most important thing I have ever done in my life, or will probably ever do. George… tons of people are dead, and tons more will die if me and Speedy don't finish this. It's fucking important."
"But… you gave up your life for this."
"Ah… wasn't much of a life anyways. A part time job, a relationship that was on life support anyways. We could call it a mercy killing."
"Hey guys! Here's your drinks… sweet tea and lemon for you… and you, you said to surprise you, so… here. Raspberry tea, lemon on the side in case you want it… is that okay?"
"Hey, thanks! Variety is the spice of life, ma'am."
"All right, hot bloody meat will be out in a few minutes. Enjoy."
Then she retreated and ran off…
"Why do I get the sense… part of all this, was just a fun adventure for you, to see if you could do it?"
"It started out like that. I guess, in some way of looking at it… me and Speedy were just two dogs, chasing a car. I don't think in the beginning we ever dreamed we would catch one."
"You were talking about how you were between computer jobs, and how you started to enjoy it? Then, the next time… you just went for it."
"Sure. I found out, that I enjoy accomplishing things, and that making money just to buy stuff to impress people… isn't a real accomplishment, at least not to me, at any rate."
"Well… when I had to run and hide, and I found myself right back on my grandpa's farm, where I started out when I was young? Early retirement? At first, I thought… well, it wasn't what I had planned for me and my family, if you can believe it. It just sort of happened. But… if it wasn't for the scared and hiding part, I actually got to really like it, in a lot of ways."
"Sounds a little like me and how I broke free of it all."
"So… what are you going to do when this is all over?"
"Whatever. Go back to my job, or get another one. Same thing for my woman, I guess. I don't worry about that stuff. George, shooting taught me a lot of things, and one important lesson is this… the main thing about shooting? Is that you learn to instantly block everything else out. There's just you… the gun… the target. Nothing else in the world exists at that moment in time. I'm focused on my target, and nothing else can distract me."
"I'm back, guys…"
She gently plopped down two really big piping hot steaks in front of each of them. You could see the bits of red peeking through in a few spots, and smell the hot meat steam. Both of them smiled, and looked up at her. She stood there regarding them, a little smile on her face as she cocked her head.
"You… guys wanna see if it needs a few more seconds over the flame?"
She waited for several seconds while they each sliced off a small portion. Blew on it, chewed, swallowed and started nodding their heads in approval.
"All right then… enjoy…"
She smiled as she turned and strode off. Both of them decided they had to bring Speedy here. Panic motioned to the waitress and caught her eye; she returned over to them.
She smiled at Panic.
"Did you figure out something else you need?"
"Yes, but not what's on the menu, ma'am…"
"Well. What do you want?"
"Let me explain. Me and my friend here, this is George by the way… me and George? We're on a big, long project. Now, we're not done, but… we just hit this point in the project? We're almost over 'the hump'. We can see the end of it. The impossible project? It's now possible, and we can see it. So, we're kind of celebrating… and we want something special…"
"Drinks?"
"No. Something special. Something only you can get for us. It's not on the menu."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Depends. What do you want?"
"That's the best part, ma'am. Should be slightly exciting for you. We want you, to be our… 'secret agent', in on the big plot. Could be exciting, what do you say?"
"Depends. What do you want yer 'secret agent' to get for you?"
"We need… raw meat. Now, I just know you got a big stainless steel bowl of raw hamburger back there, I'm sure of it. We want you to steal a handful of it. Just walk back, and palm a handful of the raw meat… slip it into your apron pocket, and bring it back to me. Me? Him? We can't go back and steal it… we can't order it, someone will freak out we tried to buy raw meat and eat it… you have access, and you can get it."
"What… what do I do if I get caught?"
"Well… I honestly don't think you'd get in any real trouble, but… here you go. If you get caught? Just get all indignant… tell them something like…"
"Hey! You wouldn't know this? But I just found out I'm pregnant! I'm craving raw meat! You wanna get between a mother and her craving? I didn't think so!"
"Then, just walk off. Doubt it will happen? But… if it does, there's a cover story, no one will question it."
"You're serious…"
Panic held up the 5 dollar bill…
"This… will fit nicely next to that 20… and… maybe bring a bottle of soy sauce, if you have one back there."
She posed with her hand on her hip again. Regarding him. Deciding. Then she smiled, grabbed the 5, and walked slowly off.
She was back inside of two minutes, with a bottle of soy sauce, that she put on the table in the middle for them. Her other hand was in her apron.
She leaned over, seemingly arranging the soy bottle into the middle of the table with her right hand. With her left hand, she slid it under the table, smiled at Panic, and when that left hand found his… a big handful of cold raw meat.
Panic put a serious but humorous look on for her benefit…
"Any trouble?"
She smiled…
"No…"
"Was it… a little fun?"
She calculated with a slight wag of her head, and smiled…
"Yeah… I guess… exciting? Just a little… reminded me of playing cops and robbers with my friends when I was a little girl."
Panic smiled back, glancing at both George and her alternately…
"Okay ma'am. I guess that's your real tip, then."
She furrowed her brow a little…
"Okay… but, you gave me 25 bucks. That's a decent tip, you know… and it's the only thing you really asked for."
"Is it? Is it really?"
"How do you mean that?"
"What's 20, or 25 bucks, honestly… I mean, you get what… a pack of smokes, a gallon a gas, a gallon of milk… maybe a couple cans of cat food on the way home when you're shifts done… it's gone, right?"
"Well, yeah… sure…"
"Now. That two minutes of fun? Your boring work day, all broke up. Kinda makes the whole week better. You get a funny story to share with your cook and your other waitresses. Just for a minute there, you got to remember what it was like to be a kid, playing and having fun, all over again. You get just enough excitement, that it's a little fun… but, not so much you're really scared. You can't buy that, for even 125 bucks… would you agree?"
She thought about it. Started nodding.
"Yeah. I guess you're right."
"Okay. So, to wrap this up? I mean, I don't want me and George to get you in trouble with yer boss or whoever… answer me this. Which was the more valuable tip? The 20 bucks, or, the experience and the lifelong story you can tell."
She gave a soft chuckle.
"I guess you're right… stealing the raw meat was kinda silly and fun. I gotta get back to work. You guys enjoy yer bloody meat."
After she left, they went back to eating. George asked Panic if he liked the waitress. In between bites of food, he gave it a few seconds to determine it.
"Uh, sure. She's okay… why?"
"No reason. I just got to thinking, I thought you liked her."
"Oh. What makes you say that?"
"Well, you kept talking to her, you sent her on the fun little mission, you shared some philosophy with her. I know you're single now… I was kinda sitting back, waiting to see how you would close the deal."
Panic made a face and smiled.
"George? Just because I talk to a girl for more than ten seconds, doesn't mean I'm trying to get in her pants."
"All right… I was just thinking, all the talk about being a man, getting what you want, being a predator… you were trying to talk me into being more… macho."
"Oh. Okay… no. That wasn't the point. Well, it wasn't not the point, it just wasn't the main point."
"So, what was the main point?"
"Hm. So, you want me to explain myself better then? I don't wanna bore you too much."
George laughed as he put time in on his steak…
"We're eating… I feel better after a long time all of a sudden… you really described what I was going through for years back there, and… you… just saw me coming out of it… and put words on what I couldn't describe. It's interesting… finish it. I don't wanna screw the point up you were making."
"Well… maybe for some or even most men? Getting what they want… or… feeling more powerful? I guess for a lot of them, it would boil down to simply two things…"
"What two things for most men?"
"I wanna make more money, I wanna bang more and better chicks. For simple minded men, no matter how educated or sophisticated they are? I think it really boils down to those two things."
"So, you don't think I'm that simple?"
"Not at all. For one thing, you have money… but, you don't brag about it, and you also don't hide it. You're… easy about that subject. You seem happy with what you have, I'm guessing you would be just about as happy with half as much, or, even twice as much."
George thought about it…
"Yeah. More or less."
"Okay… now, remember, me and Speedy were investigating you, even before we knew who you were. You want to know what people say about you?"
"What?"
"George is quiet. George is polite. George is really nice to people around him, and more importantly, people under him. Your higher ups at work? Your underlings at work, your coworkers… can't find a person who says a bad thing about you."
"Well, being nice is just the right thing to do…"
"Yeah, but… every indication we got, was that you were all about friends and family. You never ran around at the bars. You went to work, you went home and spent a lot of time with the wife and kids. Every weekend, every holiday. Even your private life? Hobbies were either at home, or, hobbies with the family."
"Is that so abnormal?"
"Ha… actually? Yes. Most men that have a career, and an education? It's… all about them. The job, the wife and kids, the house? It's… their stuff they've accumulated. You didn't treat your underlings at work like they belonged to you, and that their job was to make you get ahead. You're the same way with your friends and family… you put people at ease, and make them feel like everyone is in it together."
"So… whats with the man predator macho thing, then?"
"Oh. You don't have to look at 'getting what you want' as this cave man thing, like most people do. You can take some of that, and… share it with everyone. Just like you share your money? Your time? With friends and family? It would be one more thing to share."
George pondered.
"You… wanted me to feel more… powerful, right?"
"Sure. You were forced to live and hide in fear for years. No man enjoys feeling powerless. This thing ends soon, I want you to bounce right back from it. I don't want that shit to linger on for you."
George chuckled…
"What… I'm supposed to go… skydiving?"
"If you want, sure… probably not though. Maybe, you want to move the family back to the regular neighborhood. Maybe you want to be a chemist again. Or… maybe you wouldn't mind living above radar again. Maybe you and the wife wanna open up a little diner or something, and your kids can help you work it to get it going. I don't know… what that thing is, but, whatever that thing is? You can, god willing, soon go about doing it."
George nodded.
"I see. Where would… what we talked about to begin this… enter into that?"
"Everywhere. You don't talk about it like…'hey, I was thinking, let's see if we can open a diner up, hun', you talk about it like 'hey! We could open up a diner, what do you think? You wanna do that?'… Remember, language is important, and most people don't realize it. You don't try to do what you want… you do what you want."
"I understand now where you're coming from, I'm pretty sure."
"Now George… not like you have to decide right now or anything. But, just for conversation. What would you like to do, if you could do anything?"
"Well, you hit one nail on the head. My parents taught me to do things for and with my family, not for me and the family just walks through life with me. I wouldn't know where to begin thinking about it…"
"Well, what do you love doing?"
"Oh. The whole family seems to enjoy the civil war acting thing. The boys like dressing up as soldiers and firing guns and cannons, exciting for young boys. The wife dresses up with the women, and they put on a show how people lived back then. We all get to do something and enjoy it together. It's like… a mini vacation and a mini outdoors trip… except all the time, not just once a year. What could I 'do' around that?"
"Well, you already make and sell black powder. You… could make and provide uniforms… I could see a website store kind of deal in addition to the real life little town store. Maybe… sell period gun and period sword replicas… hell, you could make and sell cannons, for Christ's sake. I mean, you're already black powder boy. Just take another few steps down the black powder road."
Panic smiled, while wiping his face after getting done eating…
"What?"
"I just realized something. You didn't grow the goatee out into a longer beard as part of changing your identity hiding out… you grew the beard, so you could enjoy the civil war thing more, right?"
George smiled sheepishly…
"Yeah… I always thought a chemist was more of a clean shaven academic, or the goatee I had fit the job better… the wife teases me about the civil war beard, but, I think she doesn't really mind it…"
Panic smiled as easily as George now…
"I'm sure she doesn't mind it. What, ah, what part do you play? When you do the show."
"Oh, right… I guess because of the black powder thing, maybe? I'm usually an officer. I do supply officer, and, artillery officer. Already told you the wife does the small town demo thing. The boys? The older one is a 'cannon-eer' and the younger one, likes playing soldier. He's too young for the performance, so… for now? He's a message runner."
"You have a nice life, George. Even with all this… bullshit you had to put up with. I'm a little jealous. To a guy like me? You have it all. Free time, some money… and you even have the prestige. Important man around town. Maybe… there's a lesson in all this for me, when I thought I was the one giving the lesson."
George chuckled. Smiled like now he knew something…
"What?"
"My professor back in college. I mean, I had a lot of professors, but… the one I would call my mentor or whatever. He always said a good teacher can teach his students, but, a great teacher? Is no better at teaching, but, he learns back off his students."
"Anything else? These things usually come in threes, in my experience."
"Actually, yeah. That was number one. Number two? Never be afraid to say "I don't know". Because a lot of people, think if they don't know something, it lowers them. Then, they'll guess or worse yet, make something up that sounds good, to try to cover up not knowing."
"I like it… what was number three?"
"Easy. Never say 'I don't know' without the next words out of your mouth are 'but let's try to find out.' The reason he was so big on that? Was because he said, in his experience, most chemists weren't the sort of people that would normally be in charge of people and equipment every day. We were all nervous about that day coming after we graduated… he wanted us to have a couple simple rules to deal with it."
Panic thought about this wisdom…
"I like it."
George gestured at the little raw meatballs, that Panic had arranged on the empty side of his steak dish. He had idly skewered each with a toothpick, and made a little pool of soy near them…
"What's with the first holy communion…"
"Human beings are predators. Predators eat raw meat. This will probably be your first time…"
George started to make a face…
"George… we already ate sushi and sashimi with Speedy before. You already know raw fish is wonderful. This is the same thing. You get over knowing 'what it is'… it's fine…"
"Eh. You go first. Then I'll try it…"
Panic shrugged. He easily popped one little ball into his mouth off of the toothpick. Picked up another, and dipped it into the soy before he quickly plopped that one in as well.
"It doesn't taste bad, it just has very little taste. The soy makes it taste good. Go on and try it both ways…"
George hesitantly tried one bare, and made a face that said it wasn't like he thought it would be. Then he dipped a second one in soy and tried it again.
"Wasn't like you thought it would be, was it?"
"No. It's not good, it's just not bad. Who would of thunk it, eh…"
They took turns bathing their communion host in soy and consuming it.
"Does it have to be hamburger?"
"No. Raw fish. I actually like bacon, smoked and cured. I even do a little piece of raw liver when I make liver and onions."
"I bet your cat loves when you do this…"
Panic giggled.
"Oh yeah. I was feeding my cat a cheeseburger everytime I made burgers, but the cat was always trying to get at the raw meat. I finally got the message, and gave him raw hamburger and pieces of cheese. He went nuts for it."
"How… did that get you trying it?"
"Well, I'm always giving him raw meat after that, as a treat. Anytime I'm making some for myself, getting ready to cook. I just realized… I already like raw fish. Me and the cat? We're both predators… why the hell not? I can eat pretty much anything if I dip it in soy sauce."
"Same thing with the raw liver?"
"Yeah… after hamburger and bacon and deer steak… I figured cats eat raw liver with every kill they make. I just had to try it."
George confided…
"Me and the wife like liver and onions. The older boy eats it, but, the younger one won't touch it."
"Oh. I honestly think most people that don't eat liver? It's just because they know what it is. Wanna know a trick to getting around that?"
"I'm all ears. the wife would think I'm a genius, I can pull that one off…"
"You buy lunch-meat a lot?"
"Just… normal stuff. Why?"
"There's a product, it comes in long sticks to slice onto sandwiches. It's called Braunschweiger. When someone says they hate liver, over and over again, but… they never once tried it? You hand them a little piece of Braunschweiger, to try it. Most people will eat it…"
"Why. What's Braunschweiger got to do with liver?"
Panic smiled…
"It's just ground up liver, that's cooked and cured. With some salt and spices added in. If they don't mind a piece of Braunschweiger? They'll eat cooked liver and onions."
"Really?"
"Yeah, see, here's the game plan. You get them trying Braunschweiger. Try a real thin slice on a sandwich, with a couple different cheeses on it, goes good with any cold cuts. If you get them hooked slowly on Braunschweiger? After they like it, you tell them to look up what's in it…"
"That's slick…"
"Oh, here's the funniest one… you get a room of adults, at a party? You put Braunschweiger with cheese and other meats on the toothpicks, on the party tray? And… you can get everyone taking turns complaining about how gross liver is? While they're fucking eating it, right in front of you… I mean, they're complaining how much they hate it, while they're shoving their face with it. You just stand there and smile, and enjoy yourself… just say it's a pate, make up some cool sounding name."
"That is funny."
George and Panic looked up to see their waitress standing there…
"So, you boys want your check, or, you thinking about dessert?"
Panic smiled and answered her… with a humorous 'far too serious' voice and face…
"The check, ma'am… just the check."
She smiled and almost chuckled.
"You guys together or separate…"
"We're together… just not flaming or anything like that."
She was starting to lose the battle to keep a straight face, but kept it down to a tight smile.
"Damn it. I was hoping I was in time to see you guys eat the raw meat…"
"Geez. You act like its feeding time at the lion's cage at the zoo or something…"
"Well, I just never saw anyone eat raw meat before. I thought it would be something to see, that's all. The one other waitress doesn't believe me."
Panic smiled…
"It's okay. We got another guy at work, we're planning on bringing him here next time. I'll let you see it next time, if it'll do anything for you. You working tomorrow, ma'am?"
"Yeah, same shift, all week, Monday through Friday. I'm Mary, by the way…"
"Congratulations. Why don't you wear a ring then?"
"What ?"
"If you're married, why don't you wear a ring?"
She started giggling…
"No… I'm not 'married', I said… my name is MARY."
"Oh. I didn't hear you right."
"Well, if you're coming back again? You can sit in my section again. Just ask for me by name when they seat you…"
"Okay. Thanks. You have a nickname, Mary? I'm not so hot on names, I don't know why… faces I never forget. Now, a nickname? I usually remember that…"
"Actually, yes. Everyone calls me 'Christmas'…"
"Your nickname is Christmas?"
She smiled…
"Yeah, Christmas. My name isn't spelled M-a-r-y… it's spelled M-e-r-r-y, like merry Christmas. Plus? If I give someone something, I always say 'merry Christmas'. Between that and my name being spelled like that? Everyone calls me Christmas."
"Well, I can't forget that, Merry…"
"You're George, right?"
"Yes…"
"So, I didn't get your name…"
"Everyone calls me Panic."
"So… who gets the check…"
George went to reach for it, but Panic snatched it…
"No, I got this one George… you can get the next one if we come back with Speedy."
"So… are you guys cops or criminals."
"What do you mean, Merry?"
"We're the closest steak place to the Hoover building. The joke around here is, this town is just cops and criminals. Wondering which you two are…"
George cut in gently…
"And politicians, and lawyers, and businessmen…"
Merry posed with her hand on her hip like she sometimes did when making a point…
"Like I said… cops? And criminals…"
All three of them chuckled at the joke.
"Panic, maybe we better just bring Speedy, and leave my lawyer back at the office…"
"See you next time, guys… remember to ask for me…"
After she left, George smiled…
"Panic… you should close on that deal… I'm pretty sure she likes you."
"I'm not really in town for that, you know. You ready to get back?"
"All right, let's go…"
As they were on their way out, after George waited on Panic at the register, Merry buzzed past and waved as they went out. They both waved and went back to the grind of hunting Elvis.
