Councilman Franklin Potts said Cheatworth felt “real crummy” about bringing disgrace upon the city. “Just last weekend he said, ‘Frankie, I know I did wrong, and now it’s between me and my Savior.'”
The former mayor had told friends he “found the Lord” during his 22 days behind bars…
Off we go. I knock out fourteen inches by the time Emma emerges from the midmorning editors’ meeting. I expect a fuss but she seems distracted. After skimming the story, all she says is: “Let’s lose the tumor, Jack. Say they found an ‘abnormality’ in his lungs.”
“Fine by me.” I am elated yet suspicious.
In a discouraged tone Emma says: “You’re going to love this—Old Man Polk went home from the hospital this morning.”
“Figures.”
“His doctors say it’s miraculous.”
“Had me fooled,” I admit. “He looked truly awful.”
“How was the interview?”
“Pretty interesting, actually.” The understatement of the year. Emma would keel over if she knew everything.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” she says. “You want to have lunch?”
Thanks to Jay Burns, I feel like someone took a baseball bat to my shins. I hobble to the Sports department, snatch Juan away from his desk and lead him downstairs to the cafeteria. I buy him a bagel and commandeer a table in a corner, where nobody can hear us.
“Couple things,” I say. “First, you told Emma about my dead lizard.”
“It was a secret? Man, I’ve been telling everybody.”
“This is important—can you remember how the subject came up? Where you were, what you were doing… ”
Juan furrows his brow in mock concentration. “The subject of lizards, or the subject of you?”
“This is not funny. You think this is funny? This is my career you’re messing with.”
“No offense, Jack, but—”
“Don’t say it!”
With unnerving precision, Juan slices his bagel into perfect halves. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to mention Colonel Tom. But it’s a helluva story, you’ve got to admit.”
“And you’ve got better ones to tell,” I say pointedly, “about yourself. You’ve got the kind of stories they make movies of, Juan.”
His deep brown eyes flicker. “Yeah, well, maybe Emma’s not all that fascinated with my life history. Half the time we end up talking about you.”
I knew it. The shrew!
“She wants dirt,” I explain to Juan. “She’s building a case to nail me—see, the annual employee reviews are due soon… ”
In Juan’s expression I see the obvious but lacerating query, the one he’s given up asking: What more can they do to you, Jack?
I float my latest theory: “She’s trying to get me transferred, I’ll bet, to Features or maybe the Business desk. What else did you tell her?”
“Nothing she can use against you. Promise.”
“Don’t be so sure. She’s trickier than she looks.”
“No she’s not,” Juan says.
“Listen to you!”
“A dead-lizard popsicle is not grounds for demotion.”
“The offense of moral turpitude, my friend, is open to ruthless interpretation. Don’t be so naive.”
“Well, I think you’re wrong about Emma.”
I practically yowl with derision.
Juan coolly lathers a bagel slice. “Based on my knowledge of women—which is considerably more current than yours, Jack—I think you’re mistaken. Emma’s not out to destroy you. It’s just that you’re a problem in her life right now and she’s trying to figure you out.”
This is too much. How can I argue about women with a guy who’s dating (in addition to my editor) a surgeon, a skater and a cheerleader? I lean across the table and whisper: “She asked me to lunch.”
“So? Maybe she’s trying to make peace.”
“No way. It’s gotta be a trap,” I say. “You’ve heard of a Trojan horse. This is Trojan pussy.”
Juan has the most impeccable manners of any newspaper writer I’ve ever met. The bagel is gone and not a single crumb is on the table, not a speck of cream cheese on his cheeks.
“Did you know,” he says, “that she never took so much as an aspirin until you started working for her? Now it’s two Valiums a day, sometimes more.”
“She’s in the wrong line of work, Juan. I’m trying to show her the way out.” The pill-popping business makes me feel guilty; rotten, in fact. “I don’t want to do lunch with her because I’ve got to keep a distance. For her own sake, I’ve got to stay surly and unapproachable.” Juan smiles skeptically. “Sergeant Tagger’s version of tough love?”