HAVE YOU MET TAYLOR?

Over lunch, food cart on the plaza court, Eddie leans in, the way he does, and you know something unseemly is creeping in his mind. He smacks his food loudly, often with drips or bits dangling from his lips, resulting in stains on his shirt or lap. Dirt. He’s about to spread some shit about someone. Eddie is not to be trusted. I learned the lesson the hard way, yet he denies it to this day. So, no more ‘personal’ facts offered, because if you do, you know it comes back, to You. It was a cruel trait and from a foul soul with whom I’d probably never communicate except we’ve been co-joined by executive order, and seem to be quite productive, given their quarterly reports.

So…(smack, smack)…Have you met Taylor?

Taylor?

That tall, angular, fellow…

Bow Tie! Yes! The witty asshole. Junior exec…Harvard?…Yale?

That’s the one. He’s on the fast track, alright. A magician, too! So fucking smug and cheery, he farts flowers, I’ll bet.

Or playing cards…

White Doves!

Yes-ss-s…white doves!  (walllaaahhh!) - gesturing jazz hands to the sky.

He IS a smartass alright. Quite the showman….but you gotta wonder ‘why?’ Why the chirpy show if he’s so brilliant?

We await the lift in the lobby. Our conversation suspended for the time being, due to echoes and you never know.... It finally arrives. We enter and have the car to ourselves.

Gotta wonder, is all I’m saying. Damn strange..

.

They say he’s smart alright…brilliant maybe…but if that’s the case, what’s with all the buffoonery?…the razzmatazz?

Don’t have clue. Wonder if he’s screwing the boss’s son.

No! Duncan?!?….no. Cut it out. That’s disgusting. Duncan is barely fourteen…

Nooo. Not Duncan. Stacy, the eight year old.

Stop! Now you’re overstepping your bounds. First you assume he’s gay, and then a pedophile. Not founded, cruel, and certainly, Not funny. Don’t start…

Okay, okay.You are right and I am sorry. I was out-of-line…not a humorous topic. But still…boyish charm…

Cut the crap, Eddie. This is not a rumor you want to be spreading, especially harmful to both parties…to all parties.

I heard he entertained at the kid’s birthday party. But you’re saying there were no ‘private’ parties going on…??

That’s the point. So, stop. Nobody’s business, so don’t make up shit.

Ok, but you see what I mean…?

Oh…Yes. Well, it’s just that all that cute & clever ‘chappy’ crap never washed with me, too…but draw the line...

At this point the elevator door opened as we arrived at our floor and naturally who would meet us? That’s right, Taylor himself. But Taylor didn’t look his usual self. He looked to be in shock. His expression blank, his eyes rimmed red and wet, even his bowtie drooped, when it’s always drawn tight. It was readily apparent that he’d hoped the car would be empty, but there we stood in our awkward triangulation. He was holding back...

Taylor? You alright?

“Nah,” was his reply, just a syllable left dangling, and so out-of-character.

“You headed down?” He stared for a sec, but rather than respond, he simply pointed up.  I thought I witnessed a quiver, a rattle in his bones.

“Got to get back to the desk, excuse me.” My ride partner blurted, rushing past, out to the floor, and gone.

“Taylor, old man, are…are you alright?”

“…best I can.” He muttered. 

The doors now grown impatient for being held too long, started to buckle forward and back as if to say, “Make up your mind, Jack.”

“C’mon I’ll ride you up. You headed to see the Old Man?”

“No. Thanks. We just talked. Just need a break…some air...”

“I…”

“Please. Hyperventilating…just…a need to breathe…”

I stepped out as he entered. I had barely turned, as the doors, behind schedule, and trying to make up, whisked shut. Before, they did, I caught a glimpse of him pounding the button panel, then gone.

A half hour later, Rosemarie Walsh rushed from her window office into the pool room, unable to get the words out, but panic filled her eyes and she pointed outside. We responded en masse, peering down from above, aghast at the figure below.

You fucker….

No one understood my meaning, but immediately Eddie sensed my seething, very quickly fleeing, but I caught him in the john, cowering, and beat the shit out of him before leaving. For good.