“Actually, sir, we need them today. And the problem is going to get worse going forward. My contractor tells me that there are a ton of inspections coming up.”
“He’s got that right. We want to be sure things are done right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t push a few things. My office sees itself as an enabler, helping to make Maddington something special. Tell you what. I’ll try to get somebody out today, and you let me know whenever you need help.”
“Thank you, sir. We really want to get this expansion done in a month.”
He paused. Serenity waited. He paused longer. “There is very little, young lady, that can be done in a month. I’m sorry.”
She thought about the Chinese skyscraper, and thought about all the answers he’d have to that.
“Well, I thank you for any help you can give us. By the way, I might know a source that could contribute generously to your reelection.”
He brightened. Then he looked carefully left and right. “Maybe we should continue this talk in my office.”
They both stood up. He ran his hand over his head again and laughed. “Might even get myself a wig.”
Serenity said, “Might not need it.”
thirty-one
seven stories in seven days
RON POWELL’S OFFICE WAS DECORATED in a style best called Twenty-First Century Jock. Pictures of a young Powell shaking hands with Chipper Jones. A crowd at the old Maddington Stadium cheering as Powell rounded third, charging home with fire in his eyes. And behind the desk, a life-sized picture of a young Ron Powell—with hair—finishing a swing and looking skyward.
Powell took a seat behind the desk and motioned Serenity to a wooden bench in front of his desk.
“Took that out of the old Maddington Stadium, back when Maddington was just a little country town.”
She sat, and tried to avoid splinters.
“Yes, sir.”
He waited. She waited. He smiled and she nodded. “Sir, we have a donor who’s funding our library expansion. It’s important to him that the library do something big, and do it fast. If we can get the library done in a month, I think he would also be very supportive of the reelection of the man who helped make it possible.”
He looked sad. “I don’t know if I can do that. I thought this was just maybe you offering a hundred dollars. I’d try to get you up to a thousand, buy enough campaign signs to keep this crappy little job for another four years.”
He stood up and walked to a framed flow chart on the back wall and beckoned to Serenity to join him. It looked like someone had covered the wall with spaghetti and sticky notes.
“Inspect and approve a building in a month? Let me show you what you’re talking about.” He pointed. “See that? That’s what we’re looking at, young lady. I’d love to take your donor’s money, but I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
He went back and sat down on the bench and hung his head. Serenity took a seat beside him.
He said, “It may be time to bow out of this job anyway. I’m tired of doing nothing but chicken shit stuff every day.”
She started to object, but he pointed to the batting poster. “See that? That was me. Home run 100. First man ever to hit 100 for the old Stars Double-A baseball team. Only made the majors once, for a week. But I set that record, will always be the man who did it. See that old man in the crowd, face looks like he just took a big bite of a turd pie? That’s my father. Bet me I couldn’t make my first high school team. Rode me every day of my life, told me I’d never be anything but chicken shit.”
He took a deep breath. “Maybe he was right. But, for that one moment, I was a god. A god who never made a real dent in the pros, but a god all the same.”
He glanced at Serenity and a smile flickered. Then it was gone. “That’s life, ain’t it? Technically, I was a loser in baseball, never made the show for long, but I felt like a winner ’ cause every swing of the bat was mine. After baseball, I lived my life like they told me to. Ran a business and made money. Won elections. Won, and felt like a loser when I had to do what I was supposed to every day.”
He looked at her. “Sorry. What I’m supposed to do today—what I have to do today—is tell you that we can’t approve your little building in a month.”
Serenity looked at the poster of Powell swinging for the fences, catching the one rare pitch that would lead to glory. “What if it wasn’t a little building? What if we went bigger? Much bigger.” She pointed at the picture and held her gesture until he looked up and followed. “What would it take to feel that way again?”
“I’m an old man.”
“We’re all old men and old women. And we’re still children at the same time. Scared, and then sad because we gave in to our fears. What if we didn’t? What if we got crazier than ever? Crazier than you felt when you went out to that first tryout, not sure if you could do any of it? How would that feel?”
“Good. Until we crashed.”
“Good enough to be worth the crash?”
“Maybe.”
He sighed. “All we’re talking about is approving a building?”
“Maybe more. What would it take to make something a hell of a lot bigger happen?”
“I don’t know. Yes, I do. Same thing that always makes things happen: Money. Overtime for inspectors. Money to rush everything.”
She took a deep breath, stood up straight and tried to look like she was giving a serious, thought-out presentation. “Mr. Powell, I heard that somewhere in China they put up a thirty-story skyscraper in fifteen days. What if we did a seven-story building in seven days? It would put Maddington on the map, just for trying. After a week, we’d have a library to build a city around, with services and job creation beyond our imagination. What would it feel like, to stand there on the day when the doors opened, and know you did it?”
He pointed at the baseball picture. “It would feel like that. But the Chinese could only do something like that because they can spend all the money they want. And, because one guy can control all the bureaucracy.”
“I’ve got the money,” Serenity said, “if you’ve got the bureaucrat.”
Powell stood up slowly. Looked at Serenity like she was as crazy as she was. Looked at the victorious man on the wall. He crossed behind his desk and pulled out a quart jar of clear liquid and two glasses.
“I’m a Baptist.” He poured both glasses. “We don’t drink. This is country courage. Moonshine. Doesn’t count as alcohol because you don’t have to go to the liquor store to buy it.”
Serenity took her glass. He held his up to toast but then paused. “We’re probably going to crash and burn.”
“Possibly.”
He looked back at the young Powell. “Sometimes, it’s better to die trying than to live giving up.”
“And we might even succeed.”
He looked at her for a long time and took an even longer sip.
“No. But let’s die trying.” He studied her face carefully. “All in?”
He raised his glass to her.
Serenity clinked his glass.
“All in.”
She felt drunk before the first sip burned down her throat.
thirty-two
rectal redux
SERENITY’S HEAD WAS POUNDING. She sat at her desk looking at her empty rum/coffee cup and thinking what she had been pouring in was weak compared to what Powell had. Doom was standing in the doorway talking passionately about something that Serenity was having trouble following. Doom saw something out into the lobby and stopped mid-sentence.
“Oh, this is so perfect.” Doom skipped away and Councilman Doctor Bentley filled Serenity’s door behind her.
“Councilman Doctor. What a surprise.”