Chapter 15 Barter Economy #2
“Seven’s a holy number. It represents spiritual perfection,” declared her friend. That last shot was a doozy.
“Nah, I’m so fucked up about this. Why’d he take you off first class, Ros?” asked Wes, eyes meeting hers with a wide-open, vulnerable earnestness. He was outraged—so his expression was real.
This situation is none of my business, thought Wes, but I’d love to have a few words with Mark.
“He said my presence is too distracting for first class.” Her voice rose with indignation. “Too distracting? I can’t help it that my face is tea, my body’s tea, the hair’s tea, it’s giving Bob Mackie, and he can’t even spell ‘glamour.’ ”
“And yesterday, Mark pulled her from flights, altogether,” said her friend. “He told her that she was upsetting passengers. And it made more sense for her to work in the back office. At a desk. So, she quit.”
Wes felt like he was missing a key piece of this story. What was she doing on these flights that was so distracting? Did she sit on somebody’s lap? Steal a puppy from its carrier? What was she guilty of? “I’m sorry, I have to ask why . . .”
“It’s ’cause I’m a trans woman,” said Roslyn. “That’s it. That’s the whole reason.”
“But he can’t do that.” As soon as he said it, he knew how bumblefuck naive he sounded.
Obviously, he knew that trans people experienced discriminatory workplace practices every day.
But he’d never been face-to-face with someone who’d been through it.
His pulse began to race. Involuntarily, his vigilante spirit began to kick in. Maybe he needed a drink, after all.
“If you felt like pursuing it,” he said, “this could be a massive lawsuit. The state has laws that protect your rights at work. He’s counting on you not to pursue legal action. You could sue the whole airline.”
Just then, someone waved at the friend from across the room. He waved back, promised Roslyn and Wes that he’d be right back, and then excused himself. Roslyn was left sitting next to Wes, looking utterly dejected.
Roslyn’s reddened eyes narrowed in anger. “Fuck USFlight Airlines.”
“And fuck Mark,” added Wes.
“Fuck intolerant, small-minded, tacky, right-wing bigots.”
“Yo, fuck the entire system, for real.”
They clinked glasses again. “You said you had a bad day, too?”
“I did, yeah.” And then, he did something he’d never done before. Blinded by his outrage about Mark, Roslyn, and the whole USFlight debacle, he let his guard slip for a moment. And he spoke without thinking. “I think I torched my entire career. But, unlike you, it was all my fault.”
“Couldn’t have been. You’re so sweet! What’s your name?”
“Timothy-Joshua.” He replied with his cursed brother-in-law’s name without blinking.
“What happened to you today, Timothy-Joshua?”
“So, like I said, I’m in law school. But I make extra cash assisting at my old man’s law firm.
I liked it, you know. I have a solid legal mind.
And working for my dad was cool. He’s well respected, smart.
I was learning a lot.” He paused, and then called the bartender.
He ordered a vodka double. “Anyway. Long story short, we were hired by a woman who was being stalked. But my dad was busy, so he had me handle the case. And I crossed the line.”
“How?”
“He never bothered her again; it doesn’t matter.”
“How did you cross the line?”
“I surveilled him. I waited for him, outside of her building. I sat in my car, all night, every night, till I caught him. I saw him stand outside of her window, then try to break in through the back. She wasn’t there, thank God.
And I don’t know what he intended to do. I’ll never know. None of my business.
“From the car, I took photographs with a long lens. So I’d have clear shots of his face, and of him attempting to break and enter.
And then I walked over to him. Calmly. Rationally.
I confronted him, you know, told him if he had a problem with her, he needed to solve it.
Get out of town, change his name, never come back.
But then he started talking crazy, you know.
Called her names. Dehumanizing, obscene names.
Fucking degrading. And he didn’t know her at all.
But she’d rejected him. And he couldn’t live with it.
It was a professional rejection, not even a personal one. Didn’t matter. He took it personally.”
“Tell me you knocked him out.”
“I did knock him out. In one punch. I broke his jaw.” The mask had completely fallen.
Now, Wes was himself. He wasn’t a naive law student.
He wasn’t on a case. He was finally wrestling with something that had weighed on him, forever.
“Then, from the scene, I called the police with an anonymous tip. And I submitted the photographs from an untraceable email. Went back to the car, watched him get arrested. No one knew I called. But my father found out.” He took a drink.
“You always take an ego hit, getting fired. But when your parent does it, it hits different.”
It wasn’t just that, though, was it? thought Wes.
Before I even touched him, I made him throw a brick into her window.
A brick that I brought. I framed him. Yeah, he’d done it before, but this was tampering with a case.
It was false evidence. That’s what put my father over the edge.
That I cheated. The small fact that I’d let a client move into our office just added fuel to the fire.
Phyllis couldn’t resist telling him that while he was at the rehabilitation center.
Of course he died disappointed in me. I’m sure she made it seem like I’d turned the family business into a brothel.
“I’m so sorry. Let me guess. Were you in love with her?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Just a close friend. You ever have one of those nights that feel out of time? Like, they don’t match with the rest of your life, but it’s so good?
We had one of those. So, when this guy was saying such vile shit about her, I turned into an aggro, obvious, cliché douche. I just saw red.”
“Would you do it again? Even though it hurt your relationship with your dad?”
Wes never thought about this. He didn’t allow himself to think this.
“Yes. For her, I’d do it again.”
“You’re her hero.”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he said, slowly, working it out in real time. “If what I did was heroic, I’d be proud of it. And I wouldn’t have done it in the dark.”
Roslyn nodded at this, understanding. “Where is she now, this woman?”
He downed his shot and then looked at her. “Somewhere I can’t reach.”
“For her sake, I hope she comes out of hiding. Hot and sad is a wicked combination.”
“I’m not sad, Ros. I’m contemplative,” he corrected with a half smile. “Besides, she’s not thinking about me. Believe me.” He realized he’d gone too dark, slipped into being too real. Back to Roslyn. Eye on the prize. “If Mark hadn’t fired you, would you have quit?”
“King, I’d set fire to the airline, if I could.”
“What if I told you that you could.”
Suspicion danced on her brow. “You serious right now?”
“I’m serious. You can take them down. And I’ll help you.”
She sat back in her chair. Elegantly, she folded one leg over the other. “I’m listening.”
“I can’t promise anything,” he started, lowering his voice. “But I know a journalist. The Times, The New Yorker, The Atlantic.”
“How?”
“A woman I used to date,” he said, which was true.
“I’ve dated a few writers, too. They’re so complicated and take forever to figure out, like sexy little Rubik’s Cubes.”
“Understatement,” quipped Wes. “Anyway, she’s always hungry for long-form investigative pieces. Everything you told me tonight is damning. You wanna fuck the system, for real? Let’s go.”
“You’d introduce me?”
“Consider it done,” he promised. “I just need a favor. It’s so stupid, though. You probably can’t even help.”
“Try me, handsome.”
“It feels serendipitous that I’m sitting next to you. I’m in the neighborhood ’cause I was just at Fiorello Airport, trying to find information on a USFlight passenger. No luck.”
“Yeah, passenger info’s classified.”
“Right. So I was coming here to blow off some steam, or whatever. But I feel like the universe wanted me to meet you. Nah, but I need this guy’s name.
Long story, but I need to get in touch with him.
He’s a partner in a firm, and I’d do anything to work there.
I’ve had a tough year, Ros. I’m ashamed to resort to this.
But, between us, I just really need a win.
” His voice cracked, just enough, on “win.”
“Oh, Timothy-Joshua, don’t be ashamed,” whispered Roslyn. “And you wanna know if I have access to the flight manifest?”
“Do you?” Wes shot her a soft, almost timid look. As if it truly pained him, just to ask.
“Till end-of-day tomorrow, when all my passwords die. And you’re lucky, I don’t give a good goddamn about giving it to you. Mark messed with the wrong woman. ’Cause I’m not the one. Or the two.”
Wes’s eyes lit up. He’d had to think on his feet, how would he bribe her?
Cash would’ve been the easiest, most obvious route.
In fact, he never left the house without two hundred dollars on him, in cash.
For bribery emergencies. But he prided himself on never relying on it.
He used his wits instead. Besides, cash briberies were tacky.
And he was, legitimately, invested about Roslyn’s firing.
He didn’t want to use her. He wanted to help her.
America had basically turned into a barter economy, anyway.
“Here, I can pull it up now, on my work phone.” Ros pulled her phone out of her handbag, thumbs flying. Wes told her the flight number, seat number, and time of departure. It took her about five minutes to pull up the flight manifest. She showed him her screen.
“Is this the guy?”
It was a photograph of a man in his midforties, with features identical to the ones Sasha described. And below it, was the following information:
Name: Teo D. Scera
Citizenship: USA, Italia
Sex: Male
A triumphant smile slowly spread across his face.
“That’s him,” said Wes, shaking Ros’s hand. “Thank you.”
At home, that night, it took him under an hour to find his address with the info provided. When he did, he stared at it for a while.
565 Broome Street, Apt. 14D
New York, NY 10012
Why did it feel so familiar? He knew that building, somehow.
A quick Google Maps search showed him the front of the building.
Yes, he knew that massive high-rise—but why?
Had he seen it in a movie? Had he been inside?
Broome was a major thoroughfare in SoHo, he must’ve passed it a million times biking through the city or something.
Stuck, he decided to take a shower and clear his mind.
In the middle of the shower, though, it hit him.
Imani McIntyre. His ex. She lived right next to that building, on the same block. She also happened to be an award-winning journalist. Jesus, did all roads lead back to her?
Wes dashed out of the shower, soaking wet, and called her immediately.
“Imani, what you doing?”
“Shit. Just working on an exposé about a ring of clergy people who embezzle money from churches to fund whorish, decadent lifestyles under different identities. You?”
“Same,” he said, not listening. “I need your help.”
“What now?”
“You know that high-rise on your block? Didn’t you tell me you use the gym in that building?”
“Yeah, the doorman secretly cut me a key if I promised to slide him some homemade edibles every Saturday.”
See? he thought. Barter economy.
“Can you keep a lookout for me? For a guy named Teo D. Scera. He lives in that building. Find out if he’s in town?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“I just landed you a huge story for the Times. A USFlight Airlines takedown. You in?”
Her laugh carried through the phone. “You know me too well, Detective.”
NON-DELIVERY REPORT
To: Sasha.C@ [disabled account]
From: Deirdre.F@
Subject: Re: Searching for Seat F
Haigh, Sasha! Firstly, I want to thank you for sharing this email with all of us.
Even if it was mistakenly sent, it’s brought so much joy to our offices here in Dublin.
We have a bet going to see who’ll find Seat F first!
I was sure it would be me. I’m such a matchmaker.
I’ve married off one brother, and two female friends. So, I got to work on your behalf!
I visited the Italian consulate, hoping that someone there could point me in the right direction.
But I was told they didn’t have enough information to go on.
It was a pretty day, so afterward I went for a walk in a nearby park.
I’m strolling along, not paying attention, and BAM.
A jogger ran smack into me. The collision was so great, she stumbled backward into a puddle.
When I helped her up, I almost lost my breath.
She was (and is) a knockout. Being a gentlewoman, I loaned her my jacket.
And she promised to return it to me—but only if I’d meet her for matcha. (!!!)
She’s the one. When you know, you know. Here’s hoping you’ll find this much happiness with Seat F.
Deirdre Fitzpatrick
Seraphina Dublin
Supply Chain Lead