Lloyd's Angel Ch. 11

We spread her ashes in the winter-bare flower garden in front of the Center, near her parents'. They already had a different name painted on the curb in her parking spot. I felt old beyond my years, and used up.

I tried to go back to the house, but it was filled with memories of our life together. I spent Thanksgiving sitting at an empty table, looking at the empty seat that belonged to Alex and the woven placemats Lloyd Jr. had made one year at camp. The can of chili beans was like ashes in my mouth. I knew I couldn't do it any longer.

The realtor thought I was crazy, but I sold the house and everything in it and found a small apartment on the other side of town. I filled it in a one-day shopping spree at the clearance center, and settled in to hibernate.

Danny wouldn't let me. "Hibernate, my ass! You came here to die, Lloyd, and I think it's a pretty piss-poor plan. Think of a better one, okay?" He'd be back a week or so later. "Do you think Alexandra would be impressed by this?" He kept it up all winter.

Finally, he got to me in the spring. "Look, Lloyd, I could really use your help at the club. It hasn't been the same without you." It belatedly occurred to me that the entire affair had to have been hard on him too, and he'd had to deal with his business the entire time -- even if it was a little nontraditional. I suspected he was just feeding me lines until he found one that worked, but the result was the same.

There were a few old girls, who treated me like a grandfather, and a bunch of new ones, who treated me like a dinosaur, and Danny must have told them I was made of spun glass or something. We made our way through the welcoming crowd, and Danny showed me into the remodeled office he'd set aside for me.

"So, what's the catch?" I asked, as I tried out the leather chair. It was pretty comfortable.

"No catch," Danny assured me. It was when he looked the most innocent that I was most on my guard. "Just camp here for a few hours each night. Get out of your Cave of Atonement regularly, okay?" The concern in his voice softened the barb. "Maybe fix problems, once in a while."

The office was quiet; it could have used a little music, to make it more welcoming. I supposed I could spring for a CD player or something. "Come on, Danny. What kind of problems?"

"Little stuff." He shrugged defensively. "Some of the new girls, they aren't the same. They get a little rowdy, or there's a misunderstanding. You know. Heck, you're the psych major -- I just know how to make money."

"Go bullshit somebody who doesn't know you, Danny," I laughed. It had been a long time since I'd done that, and it felt good. "Yeah, okay, I'll do it. But you'd better throw in a clothing allowance unless you want to see me wearing sweats all the time."

"Done!" he cried, offering a handshake to seal the bargain. It was all a sop, anyway; we hadn't discussed money and I had a one-third interest in the club already. I realized I was willing to let him win one, and rejoin the human race.

Things settled down pretty quickly. Matters weren't as bad as Danny had suggested, and practical experience and a little gravitas were sufficient to do the job without resorting to any of my tricks. I'd sworn off them, anyway. Women, too, which the girls somehow figured out quickly enough without anything ever being said.

I liked to look as much as the next guy, but most of them could have been my granddaughters, and besides, I'd promised Alexandra. Maybe she hadn't meant it to last in the event I'd been so careless as to let her die without me, but I was going to take it that way. If it was just fear of being hurt again, well, it was the same difference.

By the time summer rolled around, I was comfortably ensconced and thinking about getting a day job. I'd recovered enough to find sitting around my apartment boring; God help me if I watched any daytime TV. Also, frankly, Home Run didn't by its nature draw the cream of society and I was itching to be around normal people for a change.

The brainstorm came when I was walking at the mall and caught sight of this overweight guy in a security uniform confronting some kid. I told myself I could do the job as well as he, and get paid for walking around the mall, to boot.

Danny had trouble taking the idea seriously when I broached it to him. "You're yanking my chain, right? Jesus, Lloyd, why don't you go teach at the University? You could look at the coeds and be only slightly overqualified instead of grossly overqualified. A brain-dead monkey could do that job!" He flinched. "Ah, sorry about that."

I waved off the apology. "I feel like a brain-dead monkey. Look, can you help me, or not?"

Of course, the interview he sent me out for wasn't at that mall. It wasn't even at the upscale mall out in the 'burbs. It was at the high-class flagship department store that anchored the upscale mall. If I'd really been dependent on a wage, I'd probably have had to work a month to buy a shirt in that place.

It was clear when I walked into the interview that I already had the job. Danny obviously had lots of friends in high places. "So, you do plainclothes work?" the interviewer asked, apparently intent on checking off boxes as quickly as possible.

"Yeah," I answered. I had to give Danny credit; I wouldn't even have to wear one of those stupid uniforms.

"You know how to deal with people? Customer service?" He looked at me with a little concern. "Customer relations are very important here. You gotta handle the guests nicely."

I thought about telling him I had a Ph.D. in organizational psychology, a couple decades in counseling and practice, and effectively was the customer service manager for an illegal brothel. I settled for smiling and telling him, "Yeah, I know how to get along and play nice with others."

He didn't look all that reassured, but stuck with the script. "Well, then, welcome aboard, Mr. Parker! My admin will give you the forms and get you set up for new hire training. Can you start next week?"

That was the start of two modestly enjoyable years that accomplished nothing much beyond keeping me moving, fit, and busy enough to have little time to brood. Perhaps I was just marking time, waiting for my life to change -- if so, I didn't recognize the change when it happened.