Chapter 14: Defining Relationships

August 12, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“What are we having for dinner?” Lily asked when she showed up just after 6:00pm.

“I have a recipe for an Indian curry dish I got from a friend. Are you OK with that?”

“Sure!”

“Are your parents seeing a movie?”

“Yes, the 8:05pm showing of S.O.B. I checked the movie listings and it runs two hours and two minutes, so there is no way they can be home before 10:15pm. If it’s OK, I’ll stay until 10:00pm.”

“It’s OK. Shall we make dinner?”

She smiled and we reviewed the recipe that Gudia had written out, and Lily made the sauce while I chopped up the ingredients. We worked together and the meal turned out good, though not quite as good as when Gudia had made it. I wasn’t sure what I’d done differently, but that was something I could ask her when I saw her.

“This is really good!” Lily said.

“Not bad for a first try,” I replied.

“Not bad for any try! How was your barbecue?”

“I’ve never had ribs before, and they were awesome. The corn was passable, though, but I’m used to basically buying it from a farm stand within a few minutes of it being picked from the stalk!”

“You lived on a farm?”

“No, but in a rural area where there were lots of farms. I could walk to the farmstand and buy fresh corn and other stuff, but we mostly grew our own vegetables, but corn is a pain to try to grow in your backyard. I used to hunt, too.”

“Like with a gun?”

I chuckled, “No, with my bare hands! I’d run after the rabbits and catch them, and I would wrestle deer to the ground like a football linebacker tacking a running back!”

Lily giggled, “You’re silly!”

“I know guns are like some weird taboo here, but back home, pretty much everyone I knew had a gun, or multiple guns. I had a .22 which was good for rabbits and anything else that tried to eat our garden. I borrowed a bigger gun when I went deer hunting. Venison is really good, and so is rabbit. And it helped save on the grocery bill.”

“You ate everything you killed?”

“Rabbit always; deer, sometimes I sold the meat for money to buy stuff like new shoes when I needed them. We didn’t eat the raccoons or opossums that I shot for eating the garden.”

“You were really that poor that you had to hunt to be able to eat and buy stuff?”

“It was a way to help make ends meet,” I replied. “We always had enough food and clothes and a roof over our head. But everything else was a luxury. And anything we could do to stretch each dollar made a huge difference. I worked a lot, too.”

“Dad said you work for some kind of investment company?”

“Yes, but I think I told you I’m in the mailroom. It’s the bottom of a long ladder I intend to climb!”

“Who was that who picked you up in the Mercedes on Sunday?”

“My uncle Alec. That’s who I was living with before I rented this apartment from your dad. I have dinner with him on Sundays.”

“Does he work for the same company?”

“No. He’s a real estate investor. His wife is my mom’s sister. He got me the job.”

“Do you like it here so far?”

“I do. And that includes the pretty girl having dinner with me.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I do.”

“Thanks! You’re a sweetheart!”

“Thanks!”

We finished eating and Lily helped me clean up, then we put on the radio and she sat on the couch and I sat on the loveseat, each with a bottle of Coke.

“Do you drive?” I asked.

“Yes, I got my license, but I don’t get to drive very often. But I have a bike and the L and buses, so it’s not a big deal. It’s expensive to park downtown, and gas isn’t cheap. Do you plan to get a car?”

“Probably not for at least a year for the same reason, and so I can save and invest. My bike is much more practical right now.”

“What about a TV?” Lily asked.

“Eventually. I get a nice raise at the end of the month, but I’m also going to start sending my mom some money. I never watched a lot of TV at home.”

“You seem like you didn’t have a lot of free time.”

“I didn’t. I have more free time now than I’ve ever had. I have more friends now than I had at home, too.”

“But no girlfriend?”

“I’m dating, but I don’t have a steady girlfriend.”

“Do you want one?”

I decided, based on the tenor of our conversation, that I could be a bit silly.

“Is that an offer?” I asked.

“You’d want me as a girlfriend?”

“What would your parents say?”

“My mom would have a cow, even though you aren’t even a year older than me. My dad would probably be OK.”

“Is there a reason your mom is that way?”

“I think so, but it’s kind of a family secret. I wasn’t supposed to know, but my grandma said something that gave it away. I’ll tell you, but you can’t say anything to anyone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I have a half-sister somewhere. Mom got pregnant at fifteen and gave the baby up for adoption.”

“I’d say that explains it,” I replied. “She’s worried the same thing will happen to you.”

“Except I had health class and I know where the clinic is. If I was going to do that, I’d go on birth control pills. Nothing personal, but you can’t trust guys in that regard.”

“My mom got pregnant at age sixteen and had me at seventeen,” I replied. “I think she might agree with you. The Pill wasn’t an option for our moms.”

“The girls you’re dating, they aren’t serious?”

“I don’t think I’d call any of them girlfriends; I’m just dating. I’ve only been here just over two months.”

“Nobody would complain if you kissed me?”

“Besides your mom?” I smirked.

“I meant whoever it is you’re dating, you dope!”

“Nobody has any claims on me,” I replied.

“So if I came and sat on your lap, would you kiss me?”

“I’d like that very much,” I replied.

She smiled, set down her Coke and sat down in my lap. I put my arms around her waist and she put hers around my neck, and we exchanged a soft kiss, just pressing our lips together. We shared three more simple kisses, then Lily put her head on my shoulder and snuggled close. We cuddled for about twenty minutes before she got up to use the bathroom, and when she came back, she sat down on the loveseat again.

We spent the remaining hour talking, and when she left to go to the house, we exchanged one more soft kiss. I watched from the door of the apartment as she walked down the stairs, across the driveway, and to the door. She turned, waved, and after I waved back, she went into the house.

August 13, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“Hi,” Rachel said, coming over to where I was sitting eating my lunch on Thursday.

“Hi.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

I shook my head, “No, not at all.”

She sat down and opened her lunch bag.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m fine. You?”

“I’m fine. I apologize for not talking to you until now.”

“You don’t owe me an apology,” I replied. “You needed time to think.”

“I have been, but it’s really difficult because I like you and want to spend time with you, but I’m afraid of what happens in the future. I don’t have any answers, really, but could we still eat lunch together?”

“Yes, of course. There’s no reason we can’t be friends. I take it dinner tomorrow evening is off?”

“I think that’s for the best, at least for now.”

“I am sorry,” I replied.

“Me, too.”

We finished our lunches and went back into the building, taking separate elevators up to the Spurgeon offices. I was glad that Rachel had come talk to me, but I honestly could not imagine a solution to the gulf between us. I could be her friend, but more than that would take, I chuckled at the thought — an Act of God.

As I thought about the girls I was seeing, I realized that Teresa was the least complicated — we enjoyed spending time together and enjoyed screwing, and neither of us was worrying about anything beyond that. I’d asked her on Sunday morning about ‘us’, and she’d replied that we were just having fun together and that it would be silly to worry about anything else for a long time. I’d asked her what she’d expected of me, and her answer had led directly to the ‘bonus’ fuck on Sunday morning.

The situation with Gudia was somewhere between Rachel and Teresa — there were things we’d need to work out, but they could be worked out, and compromises were certainly possible. Things with her parents might be touchy, but in the end, it wasn’t her parents I was interested in. Ultimately, Gudia would have to define that relationship in a way which she, they, and I could accept. I wasn’t averse to adapting myself to her culture, but I also had no intention of becoming a slave to it.

Then there was Lily, who sent all the signs and gave off all the vibes of being very interested in me. I was interested in her, too, but given that I was renting from her parents, the fact that she wouldn’t be eighteen until October, and that she’s said that she had never dated, I knew I should exercise more caution. Having dinner together on Wednesday, and exchanging several kisses, put me in a potentially precarious situation, but I’d enjoyed the evening, and the kisses, and she’d felt really good in my arms.

Work kept me busy all afternoon, and when I clocked out, I changed into my biking clothes, retrieved my bike from the loading dock, and rode home. After locking my bike in the garage, I climbed the stairs, went into my apartment, then started my usual routine — shower, fresh clothes, dinner, and then studying and reading The Wall Street Journal. Just before 9:00pm, I set aside the newspaper and called Gudia.

“How about we keep it simple,” she said after we chatted briefly. “Dinner at David’s on Halsted Street? And split the check? I’ll pick you up.”

“6:30pm work? That gives me time to bike home, shower, dress, and relax for a bit.”

“Sure! See you tomorrow at 6:30pm!”

We said ‘goodbye’, I hung up, and returned to my newspaper.

August 14, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

On Friday afternoon, Charlotte turned in her resignation, something which didn’t come as a surprise to me. What also didn’t come as a surprise to me was that she was asked to leave immediately. She, on the other hand, was pissed because she’d intended to give two-weeks’ notice. I asked Nick about that after she’d left.

“In Illinois,” he explained, “employment is ‘at will’, which means you can quit without notice and a company can terminate you without notice, unless there is a contract of some kind involved. Some places will let you work out your two weeks, others will ask you to leave. It just depends. Here, we can’t risk having someone around after they quit. The Suits all have contracts which specify what happens.”

“Speaking of Suits, I read in the Tribune this morning that Gilham had been charged with securities fraud by the SEC.”

‘Yeah. They busted him at his condo last night. He’ll be out of the lockup today, I’m sure.”

“What happens here?”

“You’ll see a memo, probably Monday, about an SEC investigation. There will be Feds running around here talking to people. Somebody in legal will be with you if they talk to you, but I can’t imagine they will. Usually they leave us completely alone.”

“Usually?”

“According to Mr. Nelson, there was an audit a couple of years ago where they literally talked to everyone, including the mailroom guys. But that’s really rare because none of us have SEC licenses nor are we involved in any way.”

“How long before they replace Charlotte?”

“Between you and me, Mr. Nelson was going to can her at the end of the month, so he has a couple of names already. If one of them can start Monday, they’ll be here, otherwise it’ll be a week. They hate bringing people in mid-week because of orientation.”

“Do you usually have this kind of turnover?”

“Most people only stay six months or so; more than a year is pretty uncommon. Too many people don’t want to follow the rules and simply do what they’re told. I did and that got me this role. If I wasn’t going to law school and I wanted to stick it out for another five or six years, I could have Mr. Nelson’s job when he retires, and it pays pretty well. Not as well as the Suits, of course, but they need to pay to have a good person managing the mailroom, maintenance, and security. If you wanted, you could go that route, assuming you keep your shit together.”

“I’m much more interested in the kind of money the Suits make!”

“You can make a pile, but a lot of those guys burn out. Think about all the Suits, and tell me something important.”

I thought about it and realized there were only one or two guys I would call ‘old’ — almost all of them were in their thirties.

“They’re young.”

“Exactly. A few guys are in their fifties, but at some point, the stress just grinds you down. A lot of heart attacks, a lot of divorces, a lot of drugs and alcohol. I thought about it, but law school is a walk in the park compared to what those guys put up with every day. You clock out at 5:00pm, but I’m sure you know some of these guys are here from 5:00am until 10:00pm, sometimes later. All chasing their fortune, trying to get an edge.”

“Then I’ll just have to be better than the rest of them!” I grinned.

Nick laughed, “If I had a buck for every person who said that, I wouldn’t have to work to pay for law school!”

We were interrupted by one of the pretty girls from Personnel who handed me an envelope which she said contained my brokerage account information. I thanked her, then quickly opened the envelope.

“Playing the game already?” Nick asked.

“Starting simple — non-callable, tax-free municipal bonds.”

Nick grinned, “You’ve caught the bug. Good luck!”

I nodded and went to my workstation and dialed the number for Mr. Steinem. I gave my name and account number and explained that I wanted to invest $500 in a fund that held non-callable, tax-free municipal bonds. He made a suggestion of a fund and explained the basic details. It matched what my uncle had told me, so I told him to go ahead. I heard keys clicking on his terminal.

“OK, Kid, you own it,” he said. “Anything else?”

“That’s it for now.”

He hung up without another word, and I went back to work. Just before it was time to clock out, Mr. Nelson came into the mailroom.

“O’Malley’s replacement will be here Monday. A guy named Harry Foulkes. A bit older than our usual mailroom guys at twenty-three, but he’s a special request from Murray Matheson. The odds are ten to one that he’s a runner in six months or less, and an assistant trader in two years.”

“That fast?” I asked.

Mr. Nelson smiled, “Connections, Kane; big-time connections. You started cultivating Matheson and if you show him you’ve got the chops, he’ll bring you along the same way. Nothing personal, but I hope it’s a few years from now. I need someone to replace Boyne next Summer and you’re him.”

“Yes, Boss!” I replied. “But why not hire him directly?”

“No experience. Even Matheson being buddies with the Big Boss won’t help there. But six months here, then a runner for a year or so, and boom, he’s in like Flynn. Anyway, he’ll be here after orientation on Monday and you’ll show him the ropes.”

“Yes, Boss!” I replied.

He left, and about ten minutes later I clocked out and headed home. Gudia arrived about ten minutes early, but I was ready, so after exchanging a chaste hug, we walked to her car for the short drive to David’s Governor’s Table in Bridgeport.

“This is where the Daley Machine used to do all their deals,” Gudia said as we sat down. “But Jane Byrne was never part of that group. She became Mayor because of the huge blizzard in ‘79. Mayor Bilandic couldn’t get the streets cleared quickly.”

“Our schools were closed for two weeks,” I replied. “The roads were so bad that the buses couldn’t run.”

“But you lived out in the country, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you were prepared?”

I nodded, “When the storm was forecast, we bought extra groceries because we knew what could happen. The road we live on has lots of low spots and they filled with snow.”

“City people don’t do that. They figure the snow will be gone in a few hours, or a day at most.”

I shook my head, “I’ve heard all kinds of things like that which make no sense. We didn’t have electricity for the first week and all that meant was no TV. Our well had a small generator, and we had a fireplace, so we lit a fire, lit a Coleman lantern and some candles, and got on with life. We could cook with propane and have hot water, too. Worst case, my friend Bev’s family had a generator which could run everything in their house, so we could have gone there.”

“A week without power in the city would lead to thousands of deaths, easily. What about tornadoes?”

“All the time, but never too close. I’ve seen them, but always at a distance.”

“What would you do?”

“Go into the root cellar. That’s where we kept our firewood and stored potatoes, carrots, and whatever stuff my mom and I canned from our garden.”

“Canned? Like aluminum cans?”

“No, mason jars. They’re glass jars with metal lids, but it’s still called canning. Of course, I knew some guys who used them to store moonshine, too.”

“What’s that like?” she asked.

I chuckled, “I tried it once. It’s like drinking a mix of gasoline, turpentine, and battery acid!”