Dog Training The American Male Part 24

"Yo dude, you still-"

"Click on START . . . then RUN-"

"Where's RUN? Oh, wait, I see it. Now what?"

"Type in capital C, colon, then capital R, T, forward slash-"

"Wait, what comes after the C?"

"Colon."

"That's the thing with two dots, right? h.e.l.lo? Yo, pal, you still there?"

Jacob was gone-the toggle switches in his brain having flipped from down to up, all rational thought drowning beneath a tidal wave of anxiety as he ripped the headphones from his ears and tossed them at the cheerleader calendar hanging crooked on the cubby wall.

He found himself outside, the spots in his vision partially blinding him, causing his heart to race faster. He managed to locate the Volkswagen van. Keying in, he started the engine, not to drive (he still couldn't see), just to power the A/C, which hadn't run cold since the unit began leaking Freon six months ago. He crawled in back, feeling the thick brown s.h.a.g carpet beneath him as he collapsed face-first on a down pillow. He rolled over onto his back, hot and sweating in the airless metal box, suffering and suffocating-hyperventilating thoughts at the moment still too frightening to consider as the migraine stabbed him in the left eye.

Trapped in purgatory, desperate to keep from falling into his own private h.e.l.l, he felt for the battery-operated fan, purchased a year ago when he was forced to live in his vehicle, out of work, out of money, out of options.

The breeze momentarily restored his sanity.

The rumble in his gut shattered it.

Sliding open the side door, he leaned out and puked, the ferocity of the act igniting every blood vessel in his head as his brain sought to restore equilibrium.

He finished, slammed the door closed, and searched the back of the van, desperate to quench the burning sensation in his esophagus. Locating a long-forgotten bottle of water, he swished the hot remains in his mouth before swallowing, then laid back down, his body trembling until finally, mercifully, he pa.s.sed out.

Several hours later, he stirred in his sauna refuge to Sanjay banging on the side of the van. The migraine had pa.s.sed, leaving him with a dull hangover.

"Jacob, come inside please. My uncle wishes to speak with you."

"YOU'RE FIRED." AMIR Patel delivered the news from behind his immaculate desk.

"Please don't fire me, Mr. Patel. I just had a bad morning."

"A bad morning? My friend, you are in a state of denial. You hate your job, you hate your co-workers, you speak with disrespect to our clients, and from observing the way in which you live, I imagine you are at the top of your own s.h.i.t list. I like you, Jacob, but what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. What does the elephant say?"

"The elephant says you are an a.s.shole." Patel shook his head, as if to settle an internal debate. "Answer my questions, and do not lie to me. Are you self-medicating?"

"No."

"Drinking?"

"Occasionally."

"Are you seeing a therapist?"

"Sort of. She's not treating me; we're just renting a house together. She's my girlfriend."

"Apologize."

"For what?"

"It doesn't matter. Apologize, start seeing a therapist, get on an exercise regimen, speak to a medical doctor about prescribing an anti-depressant, then come see me next week, dressed in a white collared shirt, black slacks, and matching dress shoes. If you've done everything I asked I'll start you out on service calls using one of our company vans. It's less money, but it's a job. You can thank the elephant if you get that far."

THE WAITING ROOM at the gynecology center was packed with women, Dr. Cope running an hour behind schedule. Wanda grabbed the next chart from the receptionist and opened the door, calling out, "Cory Verdoliva?"

The forty-eight-year-old mother of two gathered her belongings, wondering how long she'd have to wait in the exam room.

Wanda handed the brunette a plastic cup and clean dressing gown. "Bathroom's on the right. Pee in the cup, leave it in the cupboard, then wait in room three and get into this gown, Dr. Cope will be right with you."

Wanda was about to close the door when she spotted Jacob entering the waiting room. "d.a.m.n, boy. You look like two miles of bad road."

"I need to see Vin."

"Go wait in his office; I'll let him know you're here."

Another patient grabbed the door before Wanda could close it. "Nurse, I've been waiting an hour. How much longer will it be?"

"Not long, Ms. Kirsten."

"Not long? How many more hours is not long? I am so tired of doctors over-booking their schedules."

"Yeah, it sucks, don't it."

"Is that your response?"

"Well, I could tell you the insurance companies ain't payin' like they're supposed to, forcing doctors to book more patients just so they can afford their malpractice insurance, but you don't really care about the why, ya'll just want to b.i.t.c.h and maybe extract a little payback for those of us making you wait."

"It just seems like things are moving extra slow today."

"Well, we ain't given pedicures back there. We're knee-deep in smelly, leaky, yeast-infected v.a.g.i.n.as. Ya'll want speed? Get your pootie tuned up at Jiffy-Lube. Otherwise, sit your cute little a.s.s down and wait 'til I call you."

JACOB ENTERED HIS brother's office. Vincent Cope's desk was covered with stacks of medical files, his two walls with Samurai swords and martial arts weaponry. A suit of j.a.panese armor adorned a human skeleton.

d.a.m.n. Yoko would love this s.h.i.t.

Jacob removed a short sword from its perch, recognizing it as a blade used by Samurai to commit Seppuku, a ritual suicide that involved gutting the stomach. Situating himself on the edge of his brother's desk, pressing the tip of the steel blade against his shirt-covered belly, he imagined himself as a depressed Samurai warrior, about to meet his death- -when the door suddenly flew open and Ruby Kleinhenz rushed in, her naked features flirting with the front of her half-b.u.t.toned patient's gown.

Startled, Jacob stabbed himself with the blade, the jolting pain causing him to knock over the skeleton clad in its ancient suit of j.a.panese armor.

"Jacob, are you okay?"

"Fine . . . good."

"You're bleeding."

"Huh?" He looked down at the specks of blood spreading across his tee-shirt. "It's okay, just a flesh wound. Why are . . . what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting to see your brother in the exam room across the hall when I saw you come in."

"I meant, why are you in here? In my brother's private office . . . naked."

"It's been three weeks since my surgery; I just wanted your opinion." She lifted the front of her gown, exposing her shaved v.a.g.i.n.a. "Didn't your brother do a great job on my l.a.b.i.a?"

Jacob felt the blood rushing from his face as his fingers pressed the torn tee-shirt against his stab wound. "Uh, great."

Vincent entered in a huff. "Jacob, what the h.e.l.l are you doing in here . . . Ruby? Pull your gown down and get back to your room, you lunatic. Ah, h.e.l.l, look at my Samurai armor-and you dislocated Red Skeleton's collar bone!" He rushed to aid the fallen icon, noticing his brother's pale complexion. "Jacob . . . are you bleeding?"

"Yes, please . . ."

Jacob's eyes rolled up-Vin catching him as he fainted.

LOVE HURTS.

Jacob opened his eyes. He was lying on an exam table, his lower belly in agony. Through his delirium, he could make out his older brother washing his hands at the sink . . . scrubbing up for major surgery?

"Vin? Vinnie . . ."

"Hey t.u.r.d-blossom, didn't Dad teach you anything? Suicide comes after you get married."

"Sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Just tell me the truth . . . how bad is it? Did I slice open the intestine? Will I have to wear a colostomy bag like Dad?"

Vin peeled open a bandage and adhered it to Jacob's wound. "Four st.i.tches. It only needed two but I'm a Zorro fanatic. See me in a week and I'll take them out. Or we could let Ruby bite them off for you?"

"That'd be funny if I didn't think she'd do it. The woman's insane."

"She's not insane, she's in pain. Her ex hurt her pretty badly, now she's trying to bury the last thirty years by reinventing herself. Having s.e.x with younger men makes her feel alive again while allowing her to maintain control."

"You sound like Nancy. Maybe it's love? The fact that I'm young and adorable . . . it's a curse."

"Right. The woman probably has a thing for Panda bears. Don't be surprised if she wants you to wear a stuffed animal costume on your next gig."

"Joke if you must, Vincent, but this is a serious problem. Thanks to you, Nancy knows Ruby wants me s.e.xually. It's affecting our relationship."

"Just tell Ruby you're not interested." Vin saw the look on his brother's face. "Uh-oh. Don't tell me you tapped that reconstructed glory hole?"

"No."

"But you're tempted. You're thinking about it."

"Ruby's not the only one trying to reinvent herself." Jacob winced as he struggled to sit up. "I had a meltdown this morning at work. I'll probably lose my job; at the very least I'll be demoted. Meanwhile, Ruby has some serious contacts in the entertainment industry, plus a gig coming up in a few weeks that can pay off all my debt."

"And the job's yours, but only if you play ball."

"So it would seem. What do I do, Vin? I don't want to cheat on Nancy, but I'm behind a month on my share of the bills. If Nancy finds out I can't pay the rent again she may throw me out. I don't want to hurt her-she's a good woman."

"Far better than you deserve. My advice-don't mention anything to Nancy about Ruby or any details about your stand-up gigs. If you cheat on her and she finds out, she won't just throw you out, she'll castrate you."

DOG TRAINING THE AMERICAN MALE.

LESSON TEN: NEUTERING YOUR PET.

"It won't hurt," Nancy said, pouring herself another gla.s.s of lemonade. "They'll put you under, snip-snip, and you wake-up with a small bandage on your p.e.n.i.s. No big deal."

"It's far less invasive than breast implants," Helen added. "Plus there's the added benefits. For instance, you'll never have to worry about getting cancer of the p.e.n.i.s. Plus, adult circ.u.mcision also adds a large degree of protection against AIDS. You can never be too careful."

Truman Cabot glanced at the two younger women seated across from him on his third floor balcony. "Maybe it's no big deal to you ladies, but it's my p.e.n.i.s. After nearly eighty-three years, I've grown attached to it-all of it."

"It's just the foreskin," Nancy said. "Trust us, women prefer men without that annoying skin cape. Your p.e.n.i.s will smell a lot better and it'll look great."

"Oh, G.o.d, it'll look amazing," Helen agreed enthusiastically. "We'll practically have to beat my mother-in-law off with a stick just to keep her from . . . you know-grabbing you."

"You're sure the G.o.ddess said she prefers men without a foreskin?"

"Absolutely."

"What else could it be?"

He glanced three stories below to the pool deck where Carmella Cope was part of a foursome playing Gin Rummy. Using his hi-powered binoculars he managed a quick view of C.C. Rider's sun tan oiled cleavage.

"Call the doctor, set it up. Soon as possible."

"Just one tiny little thing," Nancy said, scrunching up her face. "It's probably better if we don't mention this to your daughter."

Helen nodded. "Not a good idea, you being eighty-two and all. She'd probably object to any kind of elective surgery at your age. Not that there's any danger in this-there's not."

"Are you kidding?" Cabot said, "Do you know what Olivia bought me last year for my birthday? Sky diving lessons! My step-daughter's in favor of anything that expedites her inheritance."

JACOB COPE ENTERED his home, having spent the last few hours of daylight at the beach, contemplating his life. "Nancy, I'm home."

He placed the newspaper on the shelf by the hall mirror and kicked off his sandals, leaving traces of sand by the front door. His bladder ready to burst, he ducked into the hall bathroom, lifted the lid and seat and urinated. Flushed. Rinsed his hands. Bypa.s.sing the neatly-folded hand towel on the rack, he used his shirt to dry his hands, mindful of his bandaged belly.

"Nance?"

"In the kitchen."

He found her at the table, working at her laptop. "How was work?" she asked without looking up, her voice inflection a telltale bit too high.