“Now I’m gonna say something that offends most people. I’m gonna say this for two reasons. One, to see whether you are like most people — an unfortunate shape to find yourself in. And two, if you are like most people, I can at least have the pleasure of watching you puff up before I spin you outta here. Ready?”
Greg lowers his head slightly, scooping his jaw out in small acceptance. He pushes a scale of dried semen off his knee with the back of his thumb.
“OK. If you work out here it’s gonna be because you let two things happen. You’ll let me own you; and you’re gonna fall head over fuckin’ heels in love with me.”
Grant jabs a finger off his chin at Greg. The other hand gives a disgusted shake in the darkness above the lamp.
“I’m gonna tell you something now. Later, if you do a few things for me, I’ll show you what I’m talking about, OK?”
Greg feels a little roll of exhilaration. Grant detects it.
“OK. This is it. You know the world you live in? You know the one. Little things going on, urgent things, terrible true tales of human struggle, reasons to go on, reasons not to go on, blah, blah. The world you live in. Well, it’s only one of, say, about fifteen or so. And each one has a serious claim on you, a vested interest in your stupidity. In fact, your world is maintained in a very deliberate way by the fourteen that you’ll never encounter.”
Greg notices that his Higher Power is standing in the corner of the room. He looks frightened.
“You watch the news, right? OK, picture this now. There’s me on the screen saying, oh, I don’t know, ‘a home invasion last night’ — blah, blah. But I’m
Greg’s Higher Power looks over, impressed. Grant spreads his hands flat across the desk under the lamp.
“Now we’re going to go downstairs, into the basement. I want you to stand guard for me for a while. We’re going to do something criminal, uh? A little bit. Enough to make the tiny world gag. Ready?”
Greg looks over to his Higher Power, who shrugs and places his hand over his heart.
Greg sits in a chair in the basement leaning back against the wall. His Higher Power is distressed, pacing in front of the door that Grant has disappeared through. The Higher Power puts his ear to the door.
“What do you think he’s doing in there?”
Greg shrugs.
“What a show he puts on. Very dramatic individual. What do you think he was talking about?”
Greg looks up at the tall figure.
“I don’t know, why don’t you open the door and ask him?”
The Higher Power puts his hands under his chin and mouths “No.” Greg shrugs again, this time a little contemptuously. The Higher Power lays a hand on the door behind him and drums lightly with his fingers.
“OK, OK. Let’s find out what we’re getting ourselves into.”
He clicks open the door and as it falls ajar he steps clear. Greg can see Grant’s legs. He’s leaning against a file cabinet. The blond head of a teenage boy is working back and forth between the dangling ends of his undone belt. The long legs of a woman step in front, blocking the view. Her hands gather the back of her skirt, raising it across the bare cheeks of her ass. The Higher Power reaches in and pulls the door closed.
“Oh Christ, that’s all you need.”
Greg is obviously affected by this. His face is flushed, and his breath quickens. The Higher Power, knowing full well what does and doesn’t lie within the bounds of his control, gestures defeatedly to Greg’s hands — which are now descending purposefully into the top of his jeans. Greg leans, bent over in concentration, a gangster clutching his fatal wound. And when he expires, he looks up, his face soaked with sweat. Unable to make eye contact with his Higher Power, he asks, “Nobody came by, did they?”
The Higher Power, looking a little older now, smiles wearily and again mouths a silent “No” while absentmindedly waving a hand up and down the hall.
“I gotta say though Greg, there are people who’d disapprove of this. People you respect.”
