"David, do you realize that if you were anyone but my own son-in-law, I'd have to send that tape to the F.B.I.?"
Oh Jesus, here it comes, thought David. He's decided I must be a Communist, just like everyone else who disputes him…
"Do you know what kind of people go around calling every successful, patriotic American business-man an 'imperialist bigot'?"
"Red Chinamen," David muttered crazily, wanting to make a leap for the door.
"Not exclusively, my boy. These are also the words of White Leftist Ingrates who choose to bite the hands that feed them!"
David got a feverish fun-house vision of himself biting old Wilbur's pinkies and knew he'd better get out of there quickly and go sink his teeth into Valerie, because that's where his fangs belonged… (ooh baby, will I be hot for your blood tonight!)…
"… and now, David, if I'm to believe what you said on that tape… by the way, for the record, that was your voice, was it not?"
David nodded.
"Then if I'm to believe all that rot, you apparently see me as some sort of jailer… or… or master…"
"Not 'master'," David broke in, "never that…"
"… Who has kept you in chains and robbed you of your manhood…"
"But not my virility!" David blurted.
"I didn't mention your virility…"
"Neither did I. On the tape, I mean…" Dammit, this sonofabitch was getting him nervous!
"And not one blessed word of appreciation for all the material good I've done for you and your family." Suddenly Wilbur pounded his fist on the desk and David nearly twitched off his seat. "Good God, boy, after all I've done for you, is this the thanks I get? Tell me!"
"Yep," David nodded again. "I guess that's about the size of it."
Montclair regarded him more quizzically. "This woman… this Hudson person, she's obviously got you on drugs. That's the only way I can explain your behavior, even here in my office."
"Right," muttered David. "All that girl has to do is touch a guy, and whammy! just like that, he's a freaky Commie-Acid-Head!"
Wilbur gaped and shook his head in revulsion, eagerly believing every word of this. "Dear Lord in Heaven, David, please tell me you haven't been taking the L.S. of D.!"
"No, I haven't been taking the L.S. of D.," said David.
Montclair heaved a sigh. "Thank God, then at least Linda won't be genetically tainted by your moral decay."
"Opium," said David.
"Pardon?"
"That Hudson woman and I seal up the doors and keyholes and windows and smoke opium 'til our tongues hang out, among other things…"
Montclair's face went red as a beet. He rose and turned his back on David, wandering over to the windows, gazing out across the Bay. "David, I'm sure you think you're being terribly witty, chiding me like that, driving a wedge between our generations simply because you see me as a poor old-fashioned imperialist bigot…"
"Hardly poor…"
"But hang it, I wanted to give you so much!" This was uttered in such an unexpected emotional shriek, David gazed rather anxiously at the old man, and, with some surprise, heard himself say: "Cool it, Dad… "
"Ahh what malevolence in those words!" Wilbur was in control again glaring sternly at the boy, "The flippant disregard of Youth and its Elders… all of it uttered in those three words: 'cool it, Dad!' Is that all you've got to say to me, David?"
"Yes. Can I go now? I think I quit."
"That woman!" Wilbur roared at him again.
"Yes? You want her phone number?"
"I want to know why, David… you had to play around with a tramp like that, why couldn't you at least lave been sensible and covered your tracks? It staggers me to think of the hold she must have over you, if you're willing to let her get away with a filthy trick like that tape. Why, she's not even threatening to blackmail you. She wants only to ruin you, out of spite and mischief…"
"She wants to save me," said David, and somehow made himself believe this. "She knew I'd never have the guts to make this move myself, knew I was dying here, inch by inch. Oooh yeah, that gal knew where all my inches were going. Right down the drain!"
"But… from her note, she sounds so cheap and… common!" said Montclair. "What could you possibly see in her, a fine boy, with your background?"
And now David found that he could lift up his head and look right into the old man's eyes. "She has a beautiful hot cunt and she fucks like a mink, Dad, and for a hundred bucks a bang, shell even take you on. How's that grab you, Great White Father?"
Montclair crossed himself and closed his eyes for a few medicinal seconds; then flapped them open again. "Can't you keep a civil tongue in your head?"
"Nope, I guess I can't." And then David laughed as he remembered some of his juicier sessions with Valerie. "And yours is the first complaint I've had in weeks…" And now he was a little shocked to realize he was happy about what she'd done. Holy Christ, that luscious little whoremonger!.. She'd set him free! There were no more secrets, no more buried grudges. He could fly out of here a liberated soul and start riving on his own, and the hell with everyone! Didn't she say he could make more than three hundred bucks a day with his wang and her guidance? So what did he need with the payroll savings plan and social security and income tax and rich withholding fathers-in-law? Didn't he have this horny, hockable body that practically made Valerie pop her little piston every time she saw him naked? Thank God he'd kept up those work-outs at the gym, and thank God for Valerie, because she had pointed the way: a super-happy, wholesome path ahead for him, paved with sperm and glee and dollars. His body's members had become the most negotiable bonds he owned, and look what he'd done with them all these years: shoved them up that safety deposit-box his wife used for a pussy and waited for dry rot to set in. David found himself continuing this fervent rationale aloud… "The financial district's full of clean-cut young prick-peddlers just like me. Did you know that, Dad? Brilliant young junior executives rent their peters out on their lunch-hour, just so they can go home and give the little woman some extra cash to buy a power lawn-mower or increase the payments on their house, or get the baby's teeth fixed. I tell ya, it's a whole new concept in moonlighting-Hurts-Rent-A-Cock!.. it's sweeping the city. No other way to get ahead these days, because this is inflation, you old dinosaur; everything's going up!"
Wilbur Montclair closed his eyes again and weaved back and forth, as if a bit of vertigo had claimed him. But he finally made it back to his seat, sinking into it with a wheezing gasp; then swiveled the chair around, until his back was pointed towards David. "The only thing keeping me from having a heart attack right now, David, is that I can't understand a word you've said. All I know is that you've gone emotionally and morally berserk, and what's worse, you seem to be wallowing in your own decline." He turned about and handed David an envelope from his desk. "Naturally, I want you out of here today. There's a month's salary for you, but I shall keep making deposits for you in the joint-account you have with Linda…"
"That won't be necessary," David broke in. "I've been trying to tell you I've got something quite definite lined up…"
"Be that as it may, I'm not doing this for you, but to keep Linda from knowing the truth of what's happened. I will also let it be known that I've sent you out on assignment to do some field research in the area. This will explain your absence, and stem the flow of gossip. Should you seek work with another insurance agency, I will give you a laudable reference. For the sake of my daughter and her children. However, David, if after three months' time you still haven't regained your senses, I will dispense with all these efforts to protect my family, and I will let Linda know the complete truth, and assist that poor girl in obtaining a just divorce-settlement."