The Clown Chronicles (Part Three)

Young Leah's saga of clownhood continues.......

I was ten minutes early for work the following morning, a fact that was partly attributable to anticipation of Jeff's gift. Jeff winked as I approached the dressing table, and a feeling of joy almost overwhelmed me. The job would be considerably more bearable with the ingestion of THC, a drug that had seen me through many difficult times. I could hear the boss ranting into the telephone within the confines of his private office. He seemed to be having considerable difficulty instructing one of his New York flunkies in the intricacies of financial management. “No, no, no!” he shrieked. “I told you many times—do NOT put the funds into account number 63547! Put the funds into the OTHER account! Jesus Christ!” There was the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting a table, and then his voice abruptly became calm, and placating. “I understand that it is hard to keep track of such a large allotment of funds. I have every confidence in you. If you let me down, however, keep in mind that I can and will destroy you.”

Jeff stared at me, his eyes huge. “I think we had better put our makeup on fast, and get the hell out of here before he starts in on us” he said. “But where's Will?” I asked plaintively. “This job is going to be impossible without him.” Jeff shook his head, dislodging a shower of red glitter. “I don't think Will is coming back” he said.

At nine-fifteen, we came to the sad conclusion that Jeff was correct, Will had abandoned us. With great sorrow, we piled the stacks of catalogs into a cart and prepared to begin our trek to Michigan Avenue. The boss stayed inside his office for the entire time, although I could hear him clearly. Since his earlier outburst, his mood had shifted dramatically. He emitted a long, cackling laugh similar to that of a cartoon villain. “Yes, yes!” he cried out. “That's a brilliant idea—just brilliant! Money is seductive, isn't it?”

Jeff shook his head. “He has absolutely no idea what a caricature of himself he is” he whispered. At that moment, the office door opened, and our boss stepped into the room. Ignoring Jeff completely, he gestured towards me. “I think I made it extremely clear to you that you are to smile for the entire time that you are on the street” he said, barely restraining his fury and contempt. “I drove past yesterday afternoon, and I noticed that not only were you negligent in your failure to smile at potential customers, you actually appeared to be extremely unhappy. This, of course, is unacceptable.”

“I was smiling” I said. To my irritation, I noted a hint of a whine in my voice, like a three year old trying to explain to her mother why she'd broken a plate. “Probably I was just tired at that moment.” The boss waved his hand at me dismissively. “There is no excuse” he said simply. “Don't let it happen again. The two of you may go now.” He retreated to his office, shutting the door behind him.

“Where's that joint?” I asked, as soon as we reached the street. “Don't worry, I've got it in my wallet” Jeff assured me. “I won't have any trouble finding it. There's nothing else in there.” We ambled down the street, pushing the cart. “I know of a secluded spot where we can fire it up” Jeff said. “There's a building a couple of blocks from here that has a little wooded area next to it. No one ever goes there. We'll have complete privacy.”

After a few minutes, we arrived at a slanted glass building that had tinted silver windows. It stood approximately thirty stories high. Small, manicured bushes surrounded it like bits of stubble. In an attempt to create a bucolic setting, landscapers had arranged two iron park benches and a tiny tulip garden in a semi-circle, several feet from the building. There was no one else in sight. Jeff took my hand and led me to the side of the building, away from the wind. He leaned against the window and lit the joint. “Isn't this a great place?” he asked. “Don't worry, this building has reflective glass, so no one can see us.”

What a strange grip upon reality Jeff had—he felt certain that, since we were unable to see into the building, no one would be able to look out of the building and see us, either. I didn't ponder this too deeply, however. I leaned against the building, inhaled the smoke into my lungs, exhaled with a relaxed sigh. “Isn't this a bank?” I asked, rhetorically.

Jeff shrugged. “It's some kind of bastion of corporate America” he said. “They're all the same.” He accepted the joint, inhaled deeply. “This is pretty good stuff. There's much more where this came from. I'll bring a joint to work every day.”

Suddenly, I had a sense that we were no longer alone. A man was walking around the corner of the building, making his way directly towards us. “Jeff, put out the joint” I hissed. “We've been spotted.” Jeff rubbed the tip of the joint on the glass behind him, and stuffed it into the pocket of his baggy pants. “I'll handle this” he said.

The man drew closer, and I could see that he was the security guard, with a navy blue polyester uniform and a gun tethered to his hip. The guard's face was pale and covered with old acne scars. He appeared to be only slightly older than we were. He kept walking until he stood only a few feet in front of us, and smiled malevolently. “Good morning” he said. “What's up?”

Jeff assumed an expression of nonchalance, glancing briefly skyward, and then directly at the man. “Not much” he said. “Just enjoying the morning.”

“Just enjoying the morning, huh?” the guard asked. He reminded me of a gunfighter, taunting his adversary a minute before firing a bullet into his chest. “Well, isn't that nice.” He appeared amused, but completely in control. I had a sudden bird's eye vision of how we looked to him—two clowns, in full make-up, smoking a joint while leaning against a bank building on a pleasant Tuesday morning.

The guard paused for effect, then continued mercilessly. “Hey, someone in the bank told me that you two were smoking reefer out here. That wouldn't happen to be true, would it?”

“Of course not” Jeff replied, with a hint of scorn in his voice. “We wouldn't do such a thing.”

“Wouldn't do such a thing, huh?” the guard said. Jeff shook his head. There was a heavy pause, as we waited to see who would make the next move. The guard grinned hugely, but there was no mirth in his expression. “I don't want to pressure you or anything” he said. “But why don't the two of you get the fuck out of here.”

“We certainly will. Thank you very much” Jeff replied pleasantly. We pushed away from the wall and rapidly walked away from the bank, without looking back.

To be continued........