NIP 6

“I have the fire inside. Big story Sari. You need to toughen up otherwise all the other reporters in this city and those clamoring to get to this city are going to eat you alive. You’ll be back taking calls at the desk! Or better yet…selling newspaper subscriptions over the phone!” Sam laughs hysterically at his own joke.

In the few months I have been working with Sam all I know is he’s in his mid-40s and a sour crab by nature which I usually chalk up as comical but today none of this is remotely funny.

What a jerk. I meet Sam’s gaze with a blank pout.

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“Good morning Mark. Can I get you anything?” Rapidly inquires Mark’s irksome secretary upon his first step in the door.

Before he knew Marcy he was sure this brand of character was fictitious. Only to be found in movies, books, exaggerated stories, etc. Wrong. Marcy is a south side Chicago bred trans-generational city worker. A 40 year old virgin, red-headed and pudgy no doubt. And, against his wants and wishes, Mark is her sole priority. He very nearly despises her. Moments like this Sari’s words ring in his brain, ‘Marcy is a nice, lonely lady and it makes her feel good to help you in any way she can. Be kind.’ Goddamn Sari and her need to always be sunshine. ‘It is why I love her so much,’ his heart skips a beat. This thought of Sari instantly turns Mark’s frown upside down.

“No thanks Marcy. Just gonna settle into the day. Thanks.” Mark glides past her desk towards his office.

“So Mark, do you know what today is?” Marcy lures.

Mark pivots, thinking…oh shit, is it national secretary’s day? ‘Well at least let me take my coat off Marcy! Then I am sure my calendar will remind me.’ He silently huffs and puffs.

“What is today, Marcy?” Mark decides to play her game but hopes she cannot see his gritted teeth.

“It is officially six months to the day until your wedding!” Sing songs Marcy. “I am surprised Sari didn’t mention it first thing this morning!”

Mark surveys Marcy. Is she serious? Does she actually think Sari is being in any way thoughtless about something this asinine. ‘Lord help me,” he rolls his eyes.

“Huh, no she didn’t mention it Marcy. Oh no! Do you think she is having second thoughts?” He cannot resist a little teasing. His deliberate ridicule evokes another stored Sari piece of advice…’Karma is a bitch.’

“Oh Mark.” Her face glows at the opportunity to voice her opinion. “Absolutely not. Not Sari. No way Jose. She is probably just busy with her neat new job.” Marcy nods and appears satisfied to have offered reassurance on the subject.

“You are probably right. What a relief.” With that, Mark sighs and, at last, totters off to the privacy of his own office.

Office box rather. It is no secret, at least not to Mark, this office was designed solely to have a secluded place with a door to hide from Marcy types and more importantly, file storage. It is windowless and barren. A story of a man and his file cabinets, he quips. In such a small space, every item must have a distinctive home, otherwise, it would look like the disaster known as his childhood bedroom. As he hangs his coat on the usual hanger and stacks his bags in the usual corner Marcy buzzes him.

“Hi Mark. I hope you are settling in nicely to your day. Mr. Jacobsen, from the jail, is on the line. Shall I patch him through?”

Oh boy, Mark braces himself, it is never good news when a call comes from the Cook County Detention Center. Especially not this early!

“Yes, thank you Marcy.” Showtime. “Hiya Pete. What can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. So I’ll get right to it. Ed Hayes was released yesterday and has failed to check in with his parole officer. Which is a violation and will land his ass right back here unless…”

Mark stopped listening. His heart is racing. His skin prickles from his toes to the top of his head.

“What are you telling me Pete!?!” Mark curtly grills.

“I am saying.,,” Pete proceeds to over enunciate but again Mark unthinkingly ignores his words.

“No Pete, do not repeat. Just answer. Are you telling me you released Ed Hayes WITHOUT consulting my office? I am his counsel for fuck’s sake!” Blood rushes to his head from every pulsating vein in his body.

“Take a breath Mark. You’ve been his attorney for what 3 years or some shit. He served his sentence and paid his debt to…” Pete purposely conveys his annoyance. His office acted appropriately. Furthermore, Pete cannot tolerate lawyers or layman, for that matter, judging convicts who have served their time. Pete wholeheartedly believes in rehabilitation. Even when a parolee has a minor hiccup such as Ed Hayes has.

“Oh shut the fuck up Pete! So he is on the goddamn fucking street? This minute? Right now? Christ!” Mark slams the phone down. “FUCK!” With full force he pounds his fist into his desk.

Mark’s office door flies open.

“Is everything…o….k…??”

“Out Marcy! OUT!” Marcy’s body is visibly shaken by Mark’s outburst. Marcy immediately diverts her eyes and shirks out the way she entered.

Mark reaches for the phone. His fingers quiver on the dial pad. He should have been informed of Ed Hayes’ release. Due to this heinous negligence Ed Hayes is on the street without supervision.

“Aunt Clara, it’s Mark. Call me as soon as you can. Ed Hayes has been released.”

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