No Quarter - Part 5
January 11th, 2010
“Next order of business tonight: Jamie has finally decided to show. Thank you, Jamie, for making us wait.” A palm smacks the table sharply.
Startled, Jamie rolls his head up. A puddle of drool has been forming for some time on the shoulder of his UPENN sweatshirt.
Bradley disapproves, then moves on. “On behalf of the group, I’d like to extend my thanks to Caroline, who very cleverly thought to use her supply of tranquilizer darts. Thank you, Caroline. That was both resourceful and efficient. Your aim is impeccable, and it should be noted for future reference.”
Jamie sees the brocade wallpaper. He’s sitting in a velvet chair, and he has a stinging welt on the back of his neck.
Caroline gives him a little wave. She mouths an apology, presumably for the reckless use of her tranquilizers. Why does she have those?
“To our dismay, Ruby is still with us, so some of you may be wondering why I called this meeting. And Jamie, you can thank us later for finding you. We have very exciting news for you. I’d like to announce that Mabel Hollingsworth has died face down in one of her martinis last night. Her time of death was 1:03 AM. As it turns out, she was taking sleeping pills.” The group gasps. They study the Polaroids of the scene and pass them around the table. Some aren’t able to contain their laughter.
Who? Jamie’s head floats and bobs above his shoulders. Shake if off, Jamie.
“Yes, we’re all surprised to find out, too. But since you don’t seem to understand what’s happening, Jamie, I’ll spell it out for you.” He speaks very loudly and slowly. “You won the pot.”
”Fantastic.” That’s the word he was looking for.
”You were the closest by far. Bethany was off by one full year. And due to the extenuating circumstances of her death, this will make things very interesting for you.” Bradley retreats back to the secret money closet.
Jamie tries to blink away the leftovers of the anesthetic. “Listen, everyone. I’m really flattered that you all want me to play this game with you, and I still think you’re all really cool. Especially you, Isabella.” Whoops. “But I just don’t think this is for me.”
The smell of all stacks of bills shocks Jamie’s nostrils, and his senses are suddenly magnified. He counts along silently with Michelle, who seems to be taking pleasure in Jamie’s carnal enjoyment of the cold cash. Keep counting. The faces of the bills stare up at him longingly, begging for a way out of their paper bands. Help us, Jamie. We want to come home with you.
He snaps out of his trance, if only for a second. “I mean, football season is coming up soon. Don’t you. . .maybe, we can forget all this death stuff. I have a big TV back at my house.”
Casual laughter from the crowd. Jamie is so funny.
“I don’t want things to be interesting.” Jamie waits until Michelle finishes counting, and he slides the money to the center of the table. The bills look back to him, disappointed and abandoned. Michelle hurries back to her Netbook to note his transgression.
Embarrassed and infuriated, Bradley’s voice raises an octave. “Is that really what you want?
“Yes. Yes it is.” He wishes Carla could be here for this.
“Do you know what this means for you, Mr. McCloskey? Because I don’t think you do.”
Sure. He gets his scotch back.
“Well. This, too, is unprecedented. I hope everyone is able to stay a few more minutes.” Bradley retreats back to the secret closet a second time.
Jamie remains composed, and he receives unexpectedly warm smiles from the table.
Caroline reaches across the table and taps him on the hand again. “That was very brave. You should stand up for what you believe in.”
That scotch is going to be delicious.
Bradley returns with the binder and a folder. He rattles off statistics. “Jamie, of sound mind and body, at a mere 31 years old, with no health conditions to speak of, and, as we all remember, a life expectancy of another 79 years, is once again a civilian.” What began as a day of Mario Kart and laundry turned into one full of pleasant surprises, if he doesn’t count being the tranquilizer dart. Finally, he gets to give his exit speech. “Thank you all for your hospitality. You’re all lovely people, and I hope that we won’t be strangers. I appreciate your understanding. Really, I do. And. . .you can keep my bottle of scotch that you have in that closet, you know, in case you guys decide to have a party where drinking is allowed.” He backs to the door graciously. Just leave on a high note, Jamie. Stop talking.
Bradley opens up the 3-ring binder and makes a note of something from his calculator. The wind traveling through his teeth make a faint whistle.
Jamie stops, confused. The huge, tacky door is so close.
Bradley asks him, “Would you like to know what you’re worth on the free market, Jamie?”
Oh. Right.
“Sure.”
Bradley has made a new column for him.
Clinton looks impressed. Michelle, stunned, stops typing. She looks to Bradley for guidance and the go-ahead to continue.
He nods. “Amazing. Another unprecedented event. No one has ever wanted to know.”
Jamie clenches his toes in his slippers. His chin sticks straight up. “I want to know. What am I worth to you people?”
“‘You people?’ That’s hardly called for. According to the statistics, and given your health record. . .are you sure you want to know? There are certain things-”
“I chose my words carefully. That’s why I said them.”
Someone drops a pen. Bradley is enjoying this.
“$583,000.”
“Great. See you in 79 years, dickheads.” Jamie shuffles loudly across the dark hardwood. The door is excruciatingly heavy among the low whispers.
“December 21, 2012.” Thanks, Caroline.
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