2010
7:41am |
I leaned against one of two giant pillars that form a gate into Golden Gate Park. It was one of those cold, overcast San Francisco days that keep feeling like it's about to rain but it never does. I could see my breath. Over my hoodie, I had a new thrift store leather jacket, the first new thing I owned in a long time. You gotta layer in the city.
I didn't know why Harry said to meet there, but after I told him about the hidden camera I pulled out of my smoke detector, he suddenly wanted to talk. I guess it's a good thing Tink told me to look for it.
The former bass player/manager walked up. He looked worse than stoned. He was exhausted. We slapped hands and bumped fists. "Hey, Winston."
I frowned. "Come on, Harry. I know you know my name is Oscar."
"Oh yeah. They took Hans away from me too." I didn't understand what that meant. He shook his head. "Reassignment. I can't talk about it." He walked up the path into the park. "Come on."
I walked behind him, fists clenched. "Harry, I actually read the employment contract you made me sign, and there's nothing in there about putting a camera in my house. I don't care who's paying for it. I won't take this Big Brother, reality TV bullshit."
"I know, and I told the Dude. He said--" Harry tried to remember the wording. "I'm altering the deal, and I'm not going to alter it any further."
"He actually talked?"
"Come on, I stuck my neck out to get you this job, and all you do is complain. Fuck, man." He was looking out for me, in his own twisted way, and he was the closest thing I had to a friend in the world.
The anger drained out of me. "I'm sorry."
He stopped, turned and talked softer. "Look, the Dude can't pay attention to everything that's going on. Act normal. Stop making him think about you. I mean, I understand I shouldn't have--" He sucked in air and his face looked even more exhausted. "Just keep making your deliveries."
"Is he listening now? Microphones hidden in the trees?"
Harry shook his head. "Just us for a couple of blocks."
"We used to be rock stars, Harry. How the hell did we get sucked into all this?"
"Uh..." He looked at his hands. "I got in because someone came up to me at a show last year."
"When Casimir was still alive?" I never heard about this.
"Yeah. He's the one who told me to do it." Harry started off down the path again.
"Work for a living?" I caught up to him. "Just like that?" The Casimir I knew wouldn't give up on fighting the system and tell Harry to sign up with these guys unless there was some reason.
"We knew the band wasn't forever. He said it was better to have people he trusted in this place, and you already had your wine. I needed a side project too. I'm gathering all the information I can."
"This is some scheme? Casimir came up with a plan for what to do against these guys?" The thought that my hero faked his death as part of some elaborate plan, that tiny crazy dream I spent so long pushing out of my mind came back and filled me with joy.
"Yeah, maybe. He didn't tell me before he died."
And then his death hurt all over again. I couldn't talk for a while, and Harry's eyes were so lost, I saw he was just as alone as I was. We crossed the street and went down a smaller pedestrian path. I needed a drink.
He was the first to talk. "I have cameras in my house too, but it's a fucking nice house." He pointed down the hill. "This way."
"Well, how do I get my cut?"
"The Dude pays anybody anything if they can ask for it from the right movie. Yours is Ghostbusters."
"Listen, the Dude is using us, just like he's using all those programmers."
"Using? All he wants you to do is keep making deliveries. That's why he sent me to talk to you." He looked ahead to the turn we were about to take. "I think you should see this."
I squinted. "What?"
We came into the open near the Conservatory of Flowers, and I heard an acoustic guitar playing something familiar. I couldn't see where it was coming from. Harry kept walking.
When we got close enough, I recognized the lyrics and felt a chill down my spine. They were Casimir's words, but there was no conviction behind them. The soul was gone.
Harry led me around one last corner, and I saw Ricky, the last member of Effective Disorder, sitting on a rock up ahead, guitar case open, playing for change. As we walked up, I could tell he was on something hella stronger than wine. He was down a lot of weight. There were burns on his lips and face. His head was shaking and covered in sweat.
He didn't see us, or he didn't recognize us. He kept trying to sing in that weak voice about anarchy and revolution -- the words of my hero that mean less every time I hear them out of anyone but Casimir's mouth, even my own.
I couldn't look at him. I ducked into some bushes and tried to breathe slow to get my heart rate back down.
A couple of early morning joggers went by, veering off the path to keep their distance.
Harry stood over me. "I wanted this to be professional, efficient, adult, cooperative. Not a lot to ask." He pointed at Ricky. "Alas, Mister Takagi did not see it that way, so he won't be joining us for the rest of his life. Decide now, each of you. And please remember, we have left nothing to chance."
I looked up at him, but I didn't know what any of that meant. "Is that from something?"
"Man, I've been watching Die Hard for a year. Hans was my special assignment. He'll be someone new now, like how there was a Winston before you."
"Someone else? Another Winston? What happened to him?"
"I don't know. I can't find a record, but we gave you his phone, his car and his card key." He leaned down towards me. "And they gave you that apartment for a reason. Every time you take out a camera, a new one gets hidden while you're out working."
I clenched my fists. "That's so fucked up." But it wasn't Harry I was mad at. "This Dude is exactly the kind of asshole we used to hate."
"He is?" Harry got confused. "I mean, I told you I'm gathering information."
I tried to pull myself together. "You knew Ricky was out here?"
"He is most days."
"Why don't you hire him too? He needs it more than me."
"I told you, he turned me down. That's what the quote meant."
The song ended, and Ricky's voice called out. "Can you spare some change? I'm trying to-- I want to eat breakfast this morning." I had trouble breathing.
"You see what happens to people who don't work for a living?" Harry helped me stand with one hand, while the other had a new cell phone in my face when I stood up, a Blackberry. "Time to upgrade." He smiled. "What, are you going to work someplace else? Come on, mister cowboy. What do you say?"
I wanted to be righteous, sacrifice everything in the name of Casimir's principles, but Ricky was fighting that fight, and he looked more beaten than me. That's why Harry showed him to me, as a warning.
I took the Blackberry and sneered. "Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker."
Then I used my hand to block my face as I went past Ricky, dropped some money in the guitar case and ran away.
