“See you at six, Mr. Graham,” Malcolm said. “For sure, right?”
“For sure, Clark,” Dewey said.
Dewey drove straight home and found Eunice in a fouler mood than usual. He’d been hoping to lie down for another one-hour nap, but now he knew it would be impossible. She wasn’t even happy when he told her that in the trunk of his car he had three laptops that he was going to deliver next Tuesday for $1,100 cash.
Eunice was wearing her favorite pink bathrobe and pajamas but no makeup, and it was 2:30 in the afternoon. “Nothing’s going right today,” she grumbled, moving the cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other with her tongue and teeth while her fingers flew over the keyboard of computer number three.
“What’s wrong?”
“ ‘What’s wrong?’ the man asks,” Eunice said to the ceiling. “I’m stuck in this room working myself into an early grave while you’re out all day doing God knows what and bringing home chump change. That’s what’s wrong.”
“Jesus, Eunice!” Dewey said. “It’s getting harder and harder to do business. There’s stuff all over the papers and TV these days about identity theft, and everyone’s being more cautious. And please don’t tell me how Hugo woulda had no trouble, because I’m telling you that Hugo never had to run up against the shit I’m facing.”
She looked at him and said, “Go in your bedroom and kill Ambrose Willis. You look even sillier than when you’re doing the old Jew, Jakob whatsisname.”
“Jakob Kessler. He’s an Austrian. I don’t know if he’s a Jew. I never asked him.”
“He sounds like a Jew to me every time I hear the phony accent.”
“Aw, shit!” Dewey said. “Just one little break sometime, Eunice. If you ever give me one fucking break, I’ll probably have a stroke and die on the spot.”
“I should be so lucky,” she said.
He went into his bedroom, slammed the door, and fell down on the bed, a bit alarmed by how his heart was thudding irregularly. Something had to be done. He was nearing the end of the line with her one way or the other. He desperately needed a nap, but he groaned to his feet and laid out his Jakob Kessler wardrobe and wig, along with the casual clothing of Bernie Graham that he’d take with him in an overnight bag. He knew that a quick change in the duplex/office would be tricky, but he didn’t think that a kid like Clark would pay a lot of attention to details.
The door to his bedroom was opened abruptly by Eunice, who didn’t know how to knock and had no intention of learning.
“Dewey,” she said. “We should maybe think about moving to another place.”
“Oh, Christ!” he said. “We haven’t been living here that long, Eunice. It’s such a hassle to move everything.”
“A guy from Water and Power was here today. They been having problems around here with power surges.”
“So? You have surge protectors.”
“And I try hard to have everything properly stored and backed up, but you never know. He said some computers had crashed, and it’s got me worried.”
Trying to sound as blasé as possible, he said, “Just so our bank account information is always accessible. You never know when people in our business might have to make a very fast withdrawal or transfer of funds.”
Her watery blue eyes narrowed, and she said, “Don’t worry about the bank account, Dewey. It’s safe.”
As expected, she said the bank account, not our bank account. And she didn’t use the plural this time. With as much sincerity as he could muster, he said, “Eunice, we’re not getting any younger. In case a serious illness or accident happened to you, how would I access the funds? Let’s say if they were needed for your medical care. Do you realize I have no idea where the funds are or what I could do to help you?”
“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Dewey,” she said, expressionless. “Worry about your own health and well-being.”
He was tired and under such strain that he said impetuously, “You act as though it’s your money and not mine too. I’ve worked my ass off for you for nine long years, Eunice.”
“Correction,” she said. “We’ve been married for nine very long years. But for the first two and a half years, I supported you completely while you haunted the offices of second-rate casting agents. Back when you spent more time at Dan Tana’s and the Formosa Café than the goddamn waiters and bartenders because you think screenwriters and moguls still hang out there. You live in the past, Dewey. You’re about as up-to-the-minute as a spinning wheel. Old Hollywood is dead. But I spoiled you and let you have your way, hoping you’d outgrow it. Does this sound familiar? Am I opening the gate to Memory Lane?”
“I was working every minute in those days, Eunice,” he said, feeling his resolve leaking away. “I filled legal pads full of script notes every moment I spent at Dan Tana’s. I met some important people there and at the Formosa, and I got a few acting gigs out of it. I could’ve gotten more if you’d stood by me with patience and encouragement.”
“You never needed encouragement, Dewey, you needed a mommy,” she said. “Well, sonny boy, I got real tired of being your mommy. And now, six and a half years later, you still haven’t learned the business like you should have. You still got your movie star dreams, and if I wasn’t completely in charge of our affairs, we’d be broke. There are certain things for which you have a minor talent, but money management isn’t one of them. It’s much better this way, and that’s how it’s gonna stay, Dewey.”
“And I have no say at all in the matter, is that it?” he said. “I’ll never have money of my own except what you dole out to me, right? Everything in the bank account is yours to control forever, right?”
She lit another cigarette from the pack she kept in her bathrobe pocket and said, “As you well know, Dewey, before I ever laid eyes on you, Hugo and me had built up a tidy nest egg. And as you also know, the money you’ve brought in-because of my talents, I might add-is commingled with that other money. So I think you should be grateful for all of that instead of being whiny and petty and childish.”
Her “talents”? He wanted to tell her she was nothing but a hacker and a forger and a thief. He wanted to tell her it was his innovative ideas in finding and working runners that brought in the money she craved and hoarded. He wanted to tell her that her “talents” were a dime a dozen and if he put his mind to it, he could find fifty hackers at the cyber café who would be more productive partners. Most of all, he wanted to tell her that he hated her guts like he’d never hated anyone in his life. But he didn’t tell her any of it.
Dewey heaved an enormous sigh and said, “I don’t even know how much we have in our account, Eunice. I don’t know how many accounts the money is in. I don’t know where the account or accounts are. And I’m your husband. How do you think all of that makes me feel? As a human being.”
“It’s just another concern that you don’t have to deal with,” Eunice said. “You should feel relieved that this human being takes care of important matters. That’s how you should feel, Dewey.”
Suddenly he cried, “You’ve taken my balls, Eunice! I have to live week after week, day after day, as a man without balls!”
She took a big puff on her cigarette, inhaled, and said, “Stop by Hollywood Prop Supply. You might find some you could rent.” Then she blew the smoke into the room, turned, and closed the door.
Dewey Gleason knew then that he could bring himself to kill her if he could first discover a way to access the account or accounts. And he believed he’d never have a single conscience attack afterward. He was so emotionally drained that he did fall asleep for an hour despite her. When he woke up, he had to become Jakob Kessler for his meeting with Creole and Jerzy.