Nice Job

153.

CHAPTER SIX

Should I live to see my one-hundredth birthday, I seriously doubt I will ever be as shocked as I was by the dramatic conclusion to his short speech. Widely regarded as a gentleman’s gentleman, wise, staid and objective, to be on the business end of his explosively incendiary expletive, was perhaps even more of a good-to-go message than I was ready for. I believe I can also speak for Julie and Harlan on that as well. Up until that point the sauciest language I have ever heard fly off his lips was a gosh darn. In accordance with this, I believe it should be included along with such classics as “One small step for mankind,” “I have but one life to live,” and “I shall return.” It was, and remains just a few hours later, a historical christening for the ages.

“Let’s light this firecracker with a fucking blowtorch.”

The music is still ringing sweetly in my ears. 

Elated, overjoyed yet somewhat pensive, I grant forty-eight hours of liberty to the crew. They have earned it and I tell them so, adding a few congratulatory adjectives — but no profanity. The four of us will go our separate ways, they have seen heard enough from me to last through summer and everyone needs personal time. 

I flip a mental coin, heads I stay in the city to triple-check the document for errors and omissions, and tails I fly like a crow back to the solitude of the cabin for a day and a half. 

Coin. Thumb. Toss. Catch. Peek. Tails. 

“See you all on Wednesday, same time, same place. You know where to find me between now and then.”

On the Interstate back in a rental car I grab a fresh burner and call The Queen. 

“Got some good news,” I understate.

“That cheap spy video of yours went viral?”

“Better. TOM bought the plan without reservation. We’re a go.”

On the other end the line was so still I thought I heard an ant piss on cotton. 

“You there?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the deal?”

“This is some big-time shit, I might be a little nervous about some of the more intricate parts all perfectly fitting together at exactly the right time and in the right place, ya know?” 

“I do.”

Continuing, “We all go through buyers remorse when a new operation kicks-off. Trust me, I went over the plan a hundred times, and yes, there are some rough spots, but nothing we don’t have solid options to launch should the need arise. Relax. You did a fine job with this, it’s a beautiful piece of creative work. We are all taking two days off, you should do the same. We meet again Wednesday at ten. I am heading to the cabin for some R&R myself. It has been a grind.”

I hear her take a deep breath.

“Be brave my young friend, you got this.”

I hear her exhale.

“Know what TOM said to OK the plan?”

“Huh?”

“He said, ‘Let’s light this firecracker with a fucking blowtorch.’”

“Stop.”

“Really.”

“He said that?”

“He did.”

I hear genuine laughter. The kind that fixes any ill. The kind that forgives and forgets. The kind that bonds. I start also. 

“Talk Wednesday, get some rest.”

“Hey,” she says with a lingering chortle, “nice job.”