Chapter 20: A Very Different Approach

March 6, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

After we viewed the art on display, Deanna urged me to buy an abstract painting I liked. I decided it wasn't too expensive, so I made the purchase. The gallery owner wrapped it in brown paper, and once that was completed, Deanna and I left the gallery.

"May I make a suggestion?" she asked as we walked to my car.

"Sure."

"Create a budget for art and then purchase pieces you like that fit within your budget. Make it a regular thing, and in a few years, you'll have an interesting personal collection."

"Including yours?"

"I'm sure we can work out an arrangement!"

I carefully put the painting in the trunk, wrapping it in a blanket, and then we got into the car for the drive home.

"Tell me more about your friend," I said.

"So you're considering it? I figured your non-committal answer about seeing the art and talking later meant you were going to say 'no'."

"You just surprised me, though, all things being equal, I shouldn't really have been surprised. Because I was, I decided to temporize, see the art show, and then talk about it."

"You don't make snap decisions, do you?"

"My job involves making informed decisions, though often with incomplete information. But I gather all the information possible, analyze the situation, then make a decision based on levels of certainty and my assessment of the associated risk. When something surprising occurs, I do my best to allow the idea to settle in my head before I do anything."

"You decided fairly quickly to fuck me when I showed up at your house."

"Yes, but that fit the pattern Sophie had established and which Ivy had followed, so it wasn't that big of a surprise. And you had done the one key thing that made it clear we were on the same page."

"The bottle of Jack?"

"Yes. Once Sophie told me you'd bought the bottle, I was positive she wasn't playing a game or messing with you, and you were interesting."

"How so?"

"The whole 'starving, disinterested, disaffected artist' persona and the way you were dressed."

"Tattered clothes do it for you?" Deanna asked.

"I was intrigued and curious."

"And your curiosity was satisfied?"

"Yes," I replied. "I discovered a sexy body under the baggy, torn clothing. I totally get why you dress the way you do, which is a mix of a statement and of what you could afford to buy. With the new arrangement, do you plan to change?"

"I can dress up as well as the next girl! Believe it or not, I actually have dresses and skirts in my closet! But I like the ripped jeans and baggy sweatshirts because they're comfortable, and they also give off the message that I don't give a fuck about what anyone thinks."

"A luxury I don't have at work."

"Then you need to work someplace else!"

"Every place I could work and do my job has the same uniform," I replied.

"Then start your own company and do whatever you want, not what society wants."

"That might work for an artist, but clients expect to see their investment managers in suits and ties, and expensive ones at that. Perhaps, long-term, if I had enough of a client base, I could change that. Before then? I have to play the game by the rules."

"So follow the golden rule and make enough gold that YOU make the rules."

"Someday!" I replied. "But until then, I have to be a conformist, at least at work. But we got off topic."

"Cecilia has long, blonde hair, blue eyes, a great body, and is sweet as sugar. She's even more of a good girl than I was."

"And what makes you think she wants to be bad?" I asked.

"When I was in Milford over Christmas, she and I got together, and I told her all about my adventures in Chicago and why it was WAY more fun to be bad than good. We had some long conversations, and the last thing she said before I left to come back to Chicago was that she thought I'd made the right decision. When she called to let me know she was coming for a campus visit and to meet with her counselor, I asked if she wanted to get a head start on being bad. She does."

"And sight unseen?"

"I hadn't seen you before I showed up, and I already planned to fuck you based on what Sophie and Ivy had said about you. They didn't lie, so it was just a matter of you agreeing."

"Sure, but isn't it different with experience versus no experience?"

"I might have told her how awesome you were and that you'd rock her world. I think she got wet just from thinking about it!"

"When you say she was even more of a good girl, what do you mean?"

"She's never so much as played 'Spin the Bottle' or even held hands with a guy."

"You realize my concern there, right?"

"I didn't freak out, and I don't think she will."

"How about I agree to take it under advisement, and I'll meet her when she comes to Chicago?"

"Sure, though I have a backup option for her, too. She's going to do it, just as I did."

"Minus the booze and weed," I said. "No weed because that could cost me my securities licenses, and no booze because I don't want to fool around with someone who's drunk."

"Hold on! I thought the guys in your industry all did coke!"

"Many do, but getting caught with it and convicted can cost you your license. Granted, that's exceedingly rare, but it's not worth the risk. I hope it's not a deal breaker, but you can't bring weed into my house."

"As if I could afford it!" Deanna said with a laugh. "It was the guy's weed, not mine. I toked a bit in High School."

"So not quite the good girl you implied."

"I meant about sex, you doofus!" Deanna declared. "And you knew that!"

"I think most people would equate smoking pot with being a 'bad girl', not a 'good girl', though I didn't hang around with the stoners or Preps in High School to know for sure what they thought about each other."

"Ever try it?"

"No, for the same reason you don't have any — I couldn't have afforded it. And once I came to Chicago, I was focused on my securities licenses and the need to avoid any kind of illegal behavior."

"You drink, right?"

"Alcohol violations in Chicago are citations, not crimes. They bust the people who sell it to underage kids or serve it to them, not mere possession by somebody over eighteen. And even if I was served, so long as I didn't show a fake ID, it would be a citation for me, and the bartender, or whomever, would be at risk. That's why I usually drink only at my house or in a specific bar in Bridgeport owned by a cop who's the uncle of a friend, who lets us drink so long as we behave."

"A cop owning a bar who lets you drink underage? That sounds like a sweet deal!"

"It is. But it'll only matter for another eight months because I turn twenty-one in November. What did you want to do about dinner?"

"Could we order Chinese?"

"Sure."

"I know what I want for dessert!"

"What's that?" I asked, having a reasonably good idea.

"Cum!"

"Can I ask you about that?"

"What about it?"

"Do you like that, or do you do it because you think I like it?"

"You do like it, right?"

"Yes."

"Me, too. I'm happy if you cum in me while we're fucking, but I really like when you finish in my mouth. I prefer it, actually, because I know it totally gets you off and also because I love how it tastes, and I love the feel of you pulsing in my mouth. I promise to swallow, though."

"Do what gets you off," I said. "I can deal with it."

"Does that apply to the other thing we discussed?"

"Let's rent the movie next weekend as we discussed, then talk about it."

"OK."

March 7, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday afternoon, Bill Wyatt called to let me know that the inspection had been completed on the house, and everything was in order, including the new boiler for the forced hot water heating system.

"The closing is on the 18th, as we discussed, at 8:00am. The title company will call your attorney on the 16th with the amount you need in the form of a cashier's check or wire transfer."

"It'll be a wire transfer. According to our accountant here, I need the escrow account number and they'll transfer the funds to that account the afternoon of the 17th."

"OK. I'll make sure they give that to your attorney, along with all the documents for his approval. It's all standard, so I can't imagine he'll have any objections."

"He's an attorney, and from what I've seen, all they do is object!"

Mr. Wyatt laughed, "You might have a point! Is there anything else you need from me before the closing?"

"Not that I can think of," I replied. "I very much appreciate your help."

"You're welcome! It was my pleasure, and I'm sure we'll do business together again. And please, if you know anyone in the market for a home or residential investment property, send them my way."

"I will. Thanks."

After I ended the call, I completed the weekly currency market analysis I prepared each Monday and gave it to Mr. Matheson, then returned to my desk to call my friends to see if they knew anyone who was likely to be in the Washington administration. I basically struck out, with Nelson, Gary, and Jeri all pointing out that Marcia was a lock for a job. Pete had nobody to suggest either, and his comment was that nobody had any idea who would fill the roles at the level where I could regularly interact.

"What you really need," Pete said, "is an alderman or one of the Mayor's deputies, but you'll need to seriously cultivate a relationship like that. The only quick way to do that is to make friends with certain shadier characters."

"I know some," I chuckled. "One of their crew has basically held us up twice now; once when we moved, and once when we expanded."

"If the unions are involved, the Wise Guys are sure to be there!"

"I'd prefer to avoid those kinds of friendships, so I'll work at the aide level, at least for now."

"Find out who your Ward Committeeman is and make friends with him. All that will take is a reasonable campaign contribution and perhaps a few hours of your time every week. All legal and above board, and you'll work your way up to befriending an Alderman, and then you'll have all the legal inside poop that you could possibly want. All for a few thousand in campaign cash in the right pockets."

"That's legal?"

"Check with Nelson, but so long as there is no specific quid pro quo, it's kosher. That's how this city works, at least on the side, away from the guys whose names end in vowels."

"MY name ends in a vowel!" I protested with a chuckle.

"Not one that's pronounced! It's Kane, not Kaney or Kanye! You're not an Andretti or a Coppola or a Lombardo or a Gotti!"

"Capone?" I suggested.

"Smart ass!" Pete said, laughing. "I guarantee you the Old Country pronunciation was 'Capony' or something similar. Are you Irish, English, or Scotts?"

"No clue. Why?"

"Your last name is clearly from Great Britain, but the origin is different depending on your ancestry. Mine, 'Mueller', is about as German as they come. Anyway, we should get together for drinks between dinners."

"I turn twenty-one in November."

"Holy shit! I thought you were older!"

"I know a place that will serve me. I'm pretty busy for the rest of the month with closing on the new house, doing some renovations, and moving, so let's talk at Jeri's dinner on the 29th and take it from there."

"Sounds good."

We said 'goodbye' and I hung up, convinced I had no choice but to call Marcia, but that was a conversation I didn't want to have in the office, so it would have to wait until I could call from home. I had no idea how it would go or what I might have to do to resurrect the relationship, but I had my marching orders, so I needed to find a way.

At the end of the day, I left the office and headed to Violet's house for dinner, then walked her to class before heading to the lecture hall for my math class. I was surprised to see Troy standing by the door to the building, and when he waved, I walked over to him.

"I know it's probably none of my business," Troy said, "but Teri was pretty upset when she came into the house yesterday."

I had to be very careful not to reveal any confidences, but I also felt I couldn't refuse to say anything.

"We had a difference of opinion on a way forward," I said.

"May I stick my nose where it probably doesn't belong?"

"Everyone is entitled to say their piece," I said. "But I may not be able to answer in a satisfactory way, and I have to keep my own counsel. That said, you won't upset me."

"First, I need to tell you something in complete confidence so you understand the context."

"I'm not sure you should," I said.

"Teri and I are very close, as I'm sure you can imagine, and I care a lot about her, and sometimes that means taking risks."

"Your call," I said.

"When my parents asked her about you last week, she was absolutely gushing with excitement and even said she thought you might be 'the guy' and that she wanted to invite you to dinner to meet Mom and Dad. Did you know any of that?"

"No, but I could infer that she was at least very interested."

"We only have a couple of minutes before class, but I think I can maybe explain."

I wondered about that, given the source of our disagreement.

"Are you sure you should?" I asked.

"I love my sister, so yes," Troy said firmly. "She confided in me about your disagreement, and I'm responsible."

"How could you be responsible?" I asked.

"When we were fifteen, I slept with Teri's best friend. It was both our first times, and we weren't careful. Her friend ended up having an abortion because there was no way at fifteen we were going to have a kid. Teri was upset with me for a bunch of reasons, including having sex with her best friend and for the abortion, and she swore she'd never, ever put herself in that position."

Which explained a lot, but didn't really change things in my mind because, in the end, the results would still be the same, and I couldn't make the commitment Teri wanted me to make, and it would likely be several years before I'd be ready. Troy's information certainly put a very fine point on why she'd been so adamant about her position and explained why it wasn't religious, as she'd said.

"I get it," I said. "But I'm not sure what I can do about it."

"I don't know either, except to suggest you talk to her."

"She wasn't exactly in a talking mood when I dropped her at home."

"I know, but now that she's had time to think about it, she might be receptive to talking to you."

"We need to get inside, and I'll say 'hi' to her, but the ball is really in her court because she told me she didn't want to go out again."

"I'd wager," he said as we walked into the building, "that if you ask in a few weeks, she'll say 'yes'. I know that doesn't resolve the problem, but I don't think you should give up."

I nodded, and when we went to sit down, I said 'hi' to Teri, who said 'hi' back, but then the lecture started. At the end of class, I said 'goodnight' to them, and Teri acknowledged me before I left to join Violet at the diner for our usual pie and coffee. I walked her home, and after she was safely in the house, I walked back to my car and drove to Loyola to pick up Keiko.

March 8, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Tuesday morning, I took Keiko back to her dorm at Loyola, agreed we'd get together the following Monday, then headed to the office for another day as a financial analyst. Not much was happening in the world, and most of the action was basic arbitrage, as well as managing futures contracts for customers who had international settlements that had to be made in various currencies.

On Tuesday evening, Anna and I left the office together and, at my suggestion, headed to Eli's. We had to wait for a table, so we went to the bar, and as Beth had suggested, they served me a bourbon without asking for ID. It was, in my estimation, a combination of the suit I was wearing, the gorgeous blonde with me, and the Amex card I set on the bar in front of me before ordering that caused the barman not to even look inquisitorially at me.

"What do you find as the biggest differences between Sweden and here?" I asked.

"Your taxes are much lower, and your shops are open at much more convenient times, but your entire country is so uptight compared to Sweden where people are «lagom», which I think is best translated as 'mellow'. And your country is very religious, though I don't think you are."

"I'm not. Are you?"

"No. I was a member of the State Church of Sweden, which is Lutheran, but I'm not religious in any way. I was baptized and confirmed, but pretty much everyone does that, whether they believe or not, because it's the tradition. I think maybe ten percent of the people I knew went to church at any time other than for baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and funerals. I had an aunt who went on Christmas and Easter, but my parents didn't even do that."

"Do you believe in god?"

"I'm agnostic," Anna said. "I have no idea, but the rituals are very typically Swedish, so we do them, like having strawberries for Midsommer and a «julbord» at Christmas. That's a special «smörgåsbord» for Christmas, but not like an American 'all you can eat' buffet. It's more about delicacies and special treats than huge helpings of staple foods. And Christian Swedes all celebrate Midsommer with the pole and ribbons and dancing, following the pagan traditions. Are you baptized?"