This
is Fletcher. I have taken the fifth.
You
can't just ring me up and tell me you've taken the entire top floor, just like
that!
You
know I can. It is written...
No
heat! You do know that right?…which is why we had to shut her down. She’s been
idle for years.
Don’t
mind. It’s the space.
Exactly!
What will we use for storage? We have valuable inventory...
Valuables?
What valuables?
The
piano, for one thing...the Queen Anne...the…
Whatever
you think you have, please put them in the basement, as it was intended to
Function - As Storage!
The
basement? The basement is spoken for.
The
speakeasy?
It's
‘A Lounge’.
And These are some serious investors. Serious!...investors. A deal is already
in the works...
Well
do the unspeakable and un-speak the
speakeasy.
You
cannot mandate two floors! It's not the way it's
written
and certainly not the intent! If you wish...Or
come
"to prefer" the basement, I am sure the
investors
would take a giant leap at the top floor
which
would be financially beneficial for everyone. If you'd let me do my job...I could…
I
disagree, Chester, I suggest the catacombs below
provides
them the perfect solution to their under-
ground
operation. Besides, I find the older I get, the more claustrophobic I become.
Must be fear of the grave...I can not survive underground. I need to see this
sky, feel this light...before they shovel dirt on me I'd love to
breathe-a-little…a lot.”
Oh
come now, we're not 'on the way out' just
because
mum and pops succumbed...you got death on the mind.
No,
but it makes you think about it, doesn't it? You read about it everyday and one
day that’s you in column two, section four.
What?
We're
next. Who else is there? The four of us
...have
been divided by two...
.
We've
been Subtracted from...not divided. We have lost half the family to age and
attrition, but we are not divided.
Thank
you for that reassurance, and I share our
bond
as well. Now, I'll need a crew up here to help
clear
this away.
A
crew? If it's a crew you need I suggest that's your
problem.
The staff is busy with the basement, and
besides,
how does one move the Grand piano and
those
monstrous armoires. That freight lift hasn't
operated
in eight years. It's still stuck near three, or four…
with
furnishings aboard... Cost more to fix the damn
thing.
Write it off
!. Mother decreed...so that means the mess is yours to clean.
Very
well. It'll have to be the balcony...
I'm
not spending good money after bad. Are you suggesting A Crane?! Are you mad?
Will
you at least have the decency to have staff
close
off that back alley with ropes, signs,
roadblocks
flashers..."watch out from above", Hard Hat, and all that.
What!?!
You can't just toss things off the roof!
I
can, and I will, if I must. This is my space cluttered
with
eons of collected crap and I want it clear do you hear? It’s company property
and this my private space. So when I yell "watch out below" , it better damn well be –
CLEAR - below. You tell them that - I want no one hurt. We’re just dumping our
junk, here, officer. Anybody wants ‘donations’ come on up and get it now! …
just be prepared to bear the brunt of getting it down the stairs. So get on it.
Now?!
Right now!? How is that going to happen? I’m in the middle of a deal! Let me
get some things organized...
Three
days is all I'll wait, then it's bombs away.
You
always were a selfish prick.
Handle
this like a man and stop being a little bitch.
You
get to run the Empire, but not This Region, Brother. This is my region. I so declare.
As
you shall BE declared as "Certifiable"!
By
whom? Another quack? Sorry, jack, but I'm taking my life back.
Oh
my...he's scats.
He
just may, but he needs his space…
For
what exactly?
To
work ...to create...
That's
a phase sure to last a few weeks at least, then what do we do with your
cavernous 'Space'?…your Light?…your Air? Hmm? Then what?
If
I flame out you can always turn it back into the
Ballroom,
I suppose.
...yes...yes,
I can, can't I? Let me call you back.
Why?
Are we done with the conversation here? Did
we
reach some agreement?
I
need to clarify a few things. It won't take long.
I'm
expecting a call from...the investors. I may be
tied
up on the phone, so leave word with Helen if you need anything.
Damn
fine woman....that Hellen...I should have hired her.
You
might have, had you been working here all
those
years. If
you had, you just might have had her as your own by now.
In
reality, She
would possess me.
Yes, I will leave word with the lovely Helen. Are those legs really that long?
What? That's a rather stupid question! You can see
for
yourself, why ask me how long....?
When
she wraps them around you, do they enfold
you?
Yes. Yes, they do.
And they are oh so tight and
smooth,
like some wicked anaconda she can
squeeze
the life out of you, and laugh low and lusty
as
she does so, and she says things no woman has ever dared tell a man. It's
madness...the lust. If
only...she
could be yours...er, could HAVE been...if
you'd
been...HERE!
Thanks for the sexual reverie,
brother… for my benefit no doubt, because in truth you are not capable of
complicit
carnal debauchery. Haha...'wicked anaconda' –indeed, Ladyslayer! The Rogue
CEO – the Devil, himself!
But
you are ?!
…There's my other line. I will be taking
this
call and making all the calls on this deal. Is that
clear?
Call
away brother. I'll get in touch with Helen...
Do.
Touch away…don’t burn your finger tips…(Click)
Ten
minutes into his call, and after some formalities, Chester is feeling confident
the deal is about to be sealed, when there's a knock on his Inner-office door.
Helen opened quietly, gracefully cautious, expertly silent, and pointed to the
window behind him. He was at first, puzzled, and annoyed at her interruption,
but then Helen gestured 'telephone to ear' and pointed to the ceiling. Chester
understood, but was determined to avoid Fletcher's call. Not, Now. Helen, she stood so uncharacteristically anxious and wide-eyed,
persistant, until Fletcher was forced to
turn
and look out his window, and did so as the
grand
piano flew past on its way to the grand
finale
below.
Motherfucker! He screamed, as he strung a
profoundly long strand of inelegant obscenities.
There was a long cold silence on
the other end of the call… Chester sensed the menace, and
abruptly
cut short his tirade coming back to the surface of his reality..." I…I
apologize..I..."
Do
we have a problem?
No,
no. Something just fell from the roof…things need some cleaning up. It's being
dealt with. It will not be a detraction, I assure you.
You
want this detraction off your roof? I have
"movers ".... strong men to do
the job.
Chester,
aware Helen was standing so still in the room, apparently still in a bit of
shock, motioned that she was excused, and to shut the door behind her. She
snapped out of her ‘state’, regrouped, and efficiently, exited.
"So?
You need a mover? Two? ”
"I
don't know. I..."
How
big is the object?"
The
“Object’?
Yes.
Your problem. How big? Big like ‘piano – big’?
Funny
choice of words…
It’s
just a measurement. So how big?
About...my
size."
Oh,…ha! One man
should do.
You know your crew...
And, if he does...?
You know your crew...
And, if he does...?
The
ballroom is available.
Chester,
you are the
Devil, you.
And WE have a deal.
v
