Jack turned to face him, affronted. “Excuse you. I’m not done here.”
“Yeah, you are,” said the employee, scowling. “Find somewhere to sleep tonight, you bum. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait, what?” said Jack. The room started to spin. The ache between his eyes grew infinitely more pronounced.
“I said,get out of here! I can’t help you. Leave, or I’ll ban you altogether.”
Unsure what else to do, Jack lifted his suitcase and left. An elderly couple by the door backed away as he approached.
“Excuse me,” Jack began in his best customer service voice—the one that appeased even the angriest customers. “Can you please tell me the date?”
The man stepped in front of his wife. Prominent jowls flapped as he spoke, “Don’t come near us.”
Jack tried to smile. “I only want to know the date.”
“He’s mad,” whispered the woman, clutching her purse with one hand, her husband’s sleeve with the other.
“You can’t cause a scene in front of my wife,” said the old man, shaking his head. “She’s very frail.”
Jack stepped back. “I see. Please excuse me and my, um, my madness.” He laughed at that, something between a tomcat’s yowl and a cackle, and thought that maybe they were right to call him mad.
The couple hurried away.
Jack found a payphone outside. Coins were stacked on the ledge beneath. He let out a sigh of relief. Nothing was going right, but at least he could call work and explain the situation. Maybe they could help him get another night at the hotel. After all, none of this was his fault.
Hands shaking, he dialed the number to the office. Held his breath as it rang.
“Grover, Rowell, and Thursday,” chirped a cheerful voice. “This is Kathleen speaking. How may I help you?”
Jack let out a sigh of relief.Good. A tall, thickset woman with graying hair and owlishly round glasses, Kathy was friendly, if a little gruff. “Hey, Kathy, it’s Jack Hazel. Listen, I’m calling from the train station?—”
“Oh,” said Kathy in a strange voice. In the background, papers shuffled. A copier beeped. “I see. Jack, hold on a minute. I need to transfer you to Mr. Rowell.”
“Oh, you don’t need to bother Dan,” said Jack hurriedly. “It’s just a little problem with the train ticket. I’m sure Francine can help me.”
“Jack,” said Kathy, so sternly that he could acutely imagine the way her mouth formed his name like a swear. “Dan said to patch you through to him if you called. Now, I don’t think he’s very happy. I think you should know that, alright? Hang on.”
“What?” Jack choked, struggling to comprehend her words. What had he done wrong?
But it was too late. The line rang.
Dan hated inconvenience. Maybe he was already aware of the situation with the ticket. Or maybe the foreman had called and complained that Jack had no idea what he was doing.
A click. “Jack Hazel,” boomed a familiar voice. “I was wondering if you’d have the audacity to call, or if we’d just never see you again.”
“I—What?” said Jack weakly, twirling the phone cord around his finger. “What’s wrong?”
“What’swrong?” Dan laughed, long and loud. Jack pictured him all too clearly, sitting behind his massive desk, a cigar in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other, phone clenched between shoulder and jowls, tie loose after a long afternoon with his secretary. “Hey, Frannie! Get a load of this! Idiot wants to know what’s fucking wrong!”
Jack winced. “Please, I’m really confused right now. If you could just tell me what I did?—”
“You’re confused?You’reconfused? How do you think I feel? I had everything arranged. All you had to do was show up, and you couldn’t even do that. And now you’re calling me like you don’t know what you did? You didn’t fucking do the audit, Jack!”
“What do you mean?” Jack demanded. “I was there all day yesterday!”
“Yesterday? Jack, you weren’t even in town until yesterday evening. Don’t give me that shit.” Dan sighed. Or maybe he’d just exhaled cigar smoke. Over the phone, it was impossible to know. “Listen, you’re fired, but I don’t wanna ruin your life. I’ll give you a good reference, I won’t tell anyone you fucked up. I know you’ve got some, uh, problems. I’m a progressive guy. I don’t think they’re your fault. But I can’t trust you. You didn’t do the audit; you called and lied to me. It’s not good, Jackie.”
“But I did the audit,” Jack protested. “I went in, and I met with Henry—who was hugely unpleasant, by the way—andthen I had to wait for the afternoon foreman to come in and give me the paperwork we needed. Ididthe audit. I swear I did.”
