Night of the Living Debt Part II

“So how was your vacation?” Roy Baumann Jr. asked.

“Eh.” Duane knew that Roy traveled constantly. Two semesters abroad, 4 honey moons with three different women, each to a different place. Travel for work. Two vacations a year. And he still acted like a little kid. Roy never stopped talking about any of it. Where he went last time. Where he’d go next. Why everyone else was wrong to go to the Cape, the Grand Canyon, Hawaii, the Parthenon, the Great Wall or anywhere else they chose to go because he’d undoubtedly been there (twice) and realized it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Life would be nice, thought Duane, if I were the CEO’s son. But Duane had worked hard for everything he’d ever had. He slowly crawled his way up the ladder. When elbow grease and connections weren’t enough, cheating, lying, and blackmailing had pushed the odds in his favor. However, if he was ever going to have the luxury that Roy Baumann Jr. of Baumann, Baumann and Sons, the city’s largest importer of fancy European cigars and foodstuffs had, he couldn’t waste time on idle chatter. Any indication that he’d tolerate a conversation with Roy could set him back on his current project by a week.

“So why Reno? I went there once. No, twice. Once with Julia and once…twice with Cindy. So three times, I guess. Anyway, Cindy. My little Cinderella. My princess. What a woman. What a whore. She was right about Reno, though. I only took her the second time to annoy her. You know what she said to me? She said ‘What can you possibly do in Reno you can’t do better in Vegas?’” It was classic Roy. His fat cheeks practically blotted out his eyes as he smiled at his companion, causing Duane to feel a little nauseous. Duane was not pleased with that. He didn’t care to risk losing his expensive lunch. Duane had always been a quick learner, though. As a kid, his family was very fond of telling him about the Boy that Cried Wolf. He wasn’t sure why they’d been so fond of that particular tale, but the story had taught him that being honest at select moments was just as crucial, enjoyable, and underhanded as lying at others. When it’s unbelievable, honesty is the best weapon one can have.

“I shot a man just to watch him die.” Duane told his boss in a level voice, staring deeply into the celery of his tuna salad, contemplating the great mysteries of overpriced Manhattan delis.

“Oh.” Roy Baumann Jr. of Baumann, Baumann and Sons responded. “Sounds fun.” Duane tossed him his salesman smile and turned his attention back to his lunch, tearing a large bite out almost immediately and smiling, satisfied in the knowledge that he’d be able to enjoy his customary twelve dollar tuna sandwich without interruption for once. He even felt a small, almost orgasmic shiver when he looked back at Roy Baumann Jr. and estimated from the look on the other man’s face that Roy wouldn’t bother him at least until they were halfway back to the office. A small victory, perhaps. But he won, as he always did. That was the important thing.
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