MIDDAY, Ben calls from work. "Can you come and get me?"
"Ben? Are you OK?"
"I need you to come and get me — now."
"Did something happen? Is there a problem with the car?"
"Dad!"
"I'm on my way. I'm putting on my shoes. Where should I get you?"
"I'll call you back in a few minutes. I have to go."
Richard goes zooming down the Pacific Coast Highway, takes Sunset the whole way into town, in and out of lanes, his foot on the gas.
Twenty minutes later, his phone rings, "Where are you?" Richard asks.
"I'm outside, at a pay phone; how far are you?" Ben asks.
"Ten minutes."
"I'll call you back."
"Ben?" And the line is dead.
RICHARD SPOTS HIM wandering on a side street near The Agency.
"What happened?" Richard asks, and Ben begins to cry.
"What happened — what is it?" Richard can't imagine.
And for a moment Ben is crying too hard to talk. "One of the guys, the leaders, got into the elevator with me. He pinned me against the back of the elevator and grabbed me by the balls — hard. He said things and then kissed me here, near my ear. It still hurts. I went into the bathroom, and everything down there is red. Is it something I did? Did I look at him funny? No one there knows I'm gay."
"What's the guy's name?"
Ben wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
"Hassam, Roger Hassam." Ben says. "And then, when the elevator opened, I did the weirdest thing: I ran down the steps to the security desk, flashed my ID, and said, 'They sent me to pick up the tape, I need the elevator one — now!' And the guy popped the security video out of the deck and gave it to me. 'You never saw me, never gave me anything,' I said. And the guy nodded, like this stuff happens every day." Ben hands the tape to Richard.
"Does anyone else know you have this?"
"No. My car is still in their fucking parking lot."
"How much do you care about this job?"
"I'm not going back, if that's what you're asking me."
"That's fine," Richard says. "I'm going in there — what floor?"
"The guy used to work for the CIA; he'll probably kill you. My first day there, one of the guys warned me — he said, 'Never get into an elevator alone' — but I didn't know what he meant."
Richard leaves Ben in his car, idling at the curb. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, call the police." He marches into the building, takes the elevator up.
"Hassam," he says to the receptionist. "Which way?"
"Your name?" the girl says, picking up the phone to buzz.
"Down here?" Richard points to a hallway.
"Actually, he's in the conference room with a client," She says.
Before anyone can do anything, Richard is in the conference room. There's an older gentleman sitting at the far end of the table who looks very familiar, and a few other men huddled around him. Richard feels like he's walked in on something — he's out of his element. It's incredibly awkward.
"Hassam," he says, and a guy in the middle looks up.
"You're busted."
"I don't know what you're talking about," the man says.
"My son's balls. Earlier today you had my son by the balls in the elevator. You've got two minutes to figure out what you're going to do to make it up to him, or the LAPD will be down here confiscating your computers, all your computers, given that you are a partner in this firm, and no doubt they'll find some interesting materials."
Hassam stands. "I think you should leave."
"I have the tape," Richard says, slipping the tape into the deck behind him.
"Stop," Hassam says, before the tape begins to roll.
Four men appear in the doorway, guns drawn. "Stop," Hassam says again. And the room falls silent.
"Sir, are you all right, sir?" the men with guns ask.
"Fine," the man at the head of the table says. "It's not about us."
"I'll buy the tape from you," Hassam says.
"It's not for sale."
"Well, then, what do you want, if not money?"
"Apologize to the kid, make sure he knows it's not something he did, make sure he knows that you trespassed his person, his boundaries, his rights, and you write him a glowing recommendation on his internship with the firm."
"And?" Hassam says, waiting for the deal breaker.
"That's all."
"Do I get the tape?"
Richard shakes his head. "No one gets the tape. Consider this fair warning; if it happens to anyone again — he'll testify." Richard pushes the "record" button on the deck and is out the door. He takes the elevator all the way down, picks up Ben's car, and drives up the ramp to street level. He is shaking when he pulls up behind Ben. He puts the VW in park and crawls into the passenger seat of the big car.
"What happened?"
"I busted him. I marched right in there and said, You're in such fucking trouble."
"Was he in his office?"
"In the conference room, with a bunch of guys; one looked very familiar."
"Oh God," Ben says. "President Ford was due in there this morning for a meeting."
"I'm surprised there wasn't more security," Richard says, and then realizes there were men with guns drawn, aimed at him, ready and willing to shoot him — Secret Service.
"Then what happened?"
"He asked how much I wanted for the tape — I said it wasn't for sale."
"He must have loved that."
"Can't sell it — that's blackmail. Anyway, you should be getting a major apology and a very nice recommendation. Are you sure it was Gerald Ford? I think maybe it was Harrison Ford."
"That too, it was Harrison Ford meeting Gerald Ford and his son Jack; they're making a movie about the Ford presidency."
Richard nods. "Yes, now that you mention it, there was a younger guy. I feel sick," Richard says. "I need a drink. Can you drive us somewhere?"
Ben puts the car in gear and takes them to Johnny Rockets.
"And what was Ford doing there anyway?"
"They're agents with heavy government ties; that's what I've been telling you."
At Johnny Rockets, they sit in a booth having chocolate milkshakes.
"I can't believe I did that," Richard says. "It's so not me."
"It was for me," Ben says. "Thanks."
"Is there any relation between Tad Ford, Harrison Ford, and President Ford?" Richard asks.
"I don't think so," Ben says.
"It's a lot of Fords," Richard says.
From their booth they can see the ex-president's two-car motorcade emerge from the building, a big SUV with "US Gov't" plates and an unmarked sedan.
"It's him," Richard says, again thinking about the guns pointing at him.
"Don't tell Mom," Ben says.
Richard nods.
THE NEXT MORNING they decide to take off for a few days, drive up the coast, explore. Richard goes to see Nic, to let him know that they're leaving. He and Sylvia are on the deck, each hooked up to an IV. "Vitamin infusion," Sylvia says. "The next-best thing to sex."
"Best just after sex," Nic says, smiling, lighting a cigarette.
"You look pale," Sylvia tells him. "Next week I'm going to give you liver and beets."
Nic stands and, pulling his IV pole after him, leads Richard into the kitchen. "I was about to come find you. I got a call from the kid, the little girl. She wants to see me — more to the point, she wants to bring me to school for Show and Tell."
"As what?"
"Her father. According to my ex, her classmates don't believe that she has a father and don't understand what it means that she now has two mothers, they've been giving her a hard time — 'Did your daddy marry them both?' "
"You should go."
"Do I get dressed up? I've never been to Show and Tell. I don't have a suit or anything."