The Executor Part 23

"Tea's good."

"Goodbye, Eric."

"Wait, wait, wait wait ... All right, look. I'll show you, okay? Come to the front."

He hung up.

I could all too easily imagine opening the door to a flashing muzzle. Instead I went upstairs, to the TV room, which overlooked the porch below. He had struck a pose of expectancy, the pockets of his coat turned out.

I raised the window, causing him to glance up.

He wiggled the linings. "See?"

"Take off your coat," I said.

"It's cold, man."

"Take it off or I'm calling the cops."

He muttered inaudibly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Here." He took the coat off, flapped it around. "See? Come on, now."

I told him to take off his shirt.

"Aw, for f.u.c.k's sake, enough already."

"Do it."

He gritted his teeth and complied. He was emaciated, his skin waxy white. He spun around like a fashion model-I saw the tattoos: the buck and the a.s.sault rifle-then grabbed himself for warmth, shivering violently.

"f.u.c.k, dude, I'm gonna freeze to death."

Part of me wanted to shut the window and walk away. Let him bang: I would ignore him. Let him learn who he was dealing with. I was not a man to be trifled with, no ho ho, I was a man of means, and of greater patience than he. I was wiser, and stronger, and better, and he could learn to fend for himself for once. Another part of me, though-I can admit this now-another part of me was enjoying humiliating him. After everything he had done, he deserved to be humbled.

I said, "Your pants."

He turned out the pockets.

"Take them off."

"What?"

"Take off your pants."

"Here? What the h.e.l.l, man."

"Fine." I shut the window and stepped out of view.

Below, he began to yell. I counted to ten, then stepped back to the window.

"Fine," he said. "You win. Okay?"

He undid his fly and let his pants fall to his ankles, revealing old boxer shorts in a camouflage pattern. His legs were hairless, and though I was too far away to tell for certain, they appeared to be dappled with tiny black spots.

"Now open the f.u.c.king door," he yelled.

I closed the window and went downstairs. He stumbled across the porch, pulling on his clothing, crying out in surprise when the door bounced back on the chain.

"The f.u.c.k, f.u.c.k, dude." He kicked the doorframe. "You said you'd let me in." dude." He kicked the doorframe. "You said you'd let me in."

"I never said that."

He stared at me hatefully. "You're a f.u.c.kin a.s.shole, you know that?"

I started to close the door.

"Wait."

Silence.

"Apologize," I said.

Silence.

"I apologize," he said.

"Now say your piece and leave me alone."

His jaw bulged as he got control of himself. "All right ... all right, look. I've been thinking it over. I want to make a deal." He paused. "What do you think?"

"I don't have an opinion. You haven't said anything yet."

"Okay, so, fine, so, I'm getting to that. Now, I've been spending a lot of time on this. Like I told you before, I don't need the house. As far as I'm concerned, you take it."

"I already own the house. I don't need you to give it to me."

"I know. All right, I know. But-I mean. I'm telling you, it's fine with me. I don't want it. I'm not even going to try to ask for it."

"Terrific."

"Okay, so, but if you get the house, then I should get something, too. Fair is fair."

I said nothing.

"Right?"

"What do you want, Eric?"

"So if you get the house, and-let's not forget, it's a big house. Tons of stuff. So, I mean, it's only fair I should get the money."

"The money."

He nodded.

"As in all of it," I said.

He nodded again.

Now I really did laugh. "You're out of your mind."

"It's only fair," he said.

"And how do you figure that."

"The house, that's like a couple million right there. All her stuff. The books, I don't even know what they're worth."

"I'm not selling the books."

"Yeah, but you could if you wanted to."

"I don't want to."

"Well that's up to you," he said. "That's your choice."

"It sure is."

"But I mean there's other stuff, I know that for a fact. So, bottom line, you'll be fine, and anyway you don't need it like I do. Or- look. I'm willing to deal. How bout we say this. Ready? Okay, look. Let's say I give you half."

"You give me half." give me half."

"That's totally fair," he said.

"No, it isn't. It isn't even remotely fair. Let's get something straight: it's not yours to give away. The money's mine, Eric. That's your starting point for negotiations."

"So what. I get nothing? That's what you're telling me, I get nothing."

"She did leave you something. It's in the will. Have you read it?"

"How'm I supposed to do all that stuff she wants me to do? I can't, man, you know that."

"That's really too bad, then."

"I have learning learning disabilities." disabilities."

"You've said."

"Yeah, so, help me out here. This isn't fair and you know it."

"She thought it was."

"You have no idea, do you." He sounded weary; his face softened to match. It was a command performance. "She made my life h.e.l.l."

"I suppose she smacked you around."

"She did."

"I don't believe you."

"She-"

"And even if I did, it's got nothing to do with me, or the house, or the money."

"I'm broke."

"Sorry to hear it."

"That doesn't mean anything to you?"

"It means you should have spent what she gave you a little more prudently."

"Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?"

"What am I doing, Eric."

"You're taking everything."

"I'm not taking anything. She gave it to me. And frankly, after what you tried to do, coming back here and asking for handouts is unbelievable."

"I don't know what the f.u.c.k you're talking about."

"You know what you did."

"No," he said. "I don't know."

"Then that's your problem."

Silence.

"Stay warm," I said. I started to close the door.

He said, "How's the writing coming."

I shut the door and bolted it.