It's Just Money
The Squat. Early August 1995.
Squat phone rings twice, Kid doesn’t answer. It stops.
Squat phone rings twice, Kid doesn’t answer. It stops.
Squat phone rings twice, Kid answers.
“What do you want, Tiny?”
“They taught you my code already?” Tiny’s voice, Kid could hear The News in the background.
“Easy code. Be easier if we had an intercom.” Kid pondered. “Does this building have pneumatic tubes?”
“Shut up and bring Jerk with you downstairs.”
Door opens, bell rings.
“Tiny.” Jerk was still yawning and made his way to pour himself a cup of The News’ coffee. It was too early for anything except reading.
“Sandwich delivery.” Tiny announced it like a bill come due.
Jerk was about to pour sugar in his cup when he stopped, looked at Tiny.
“Special order?”
“Yeah. A number seven.” Tiny extracted himself from his throne. “Finish making your coffee, watch the counter.”
Jerk did as he was told.
Kid could feel the energy in the air. “Can I… Can I watch you make it?”
“Sure Kiddo, was hoping you’d ask.” Kid was about to be initiated.
Tiny didn’t look for a hairnet for his curly mop of salt and pepper hair, but he washed his hands for 30 seconds in the prep sink and had Kid do the same.
“Kiddo, can you grab some kaiser rolls, I need one for this sandwich.” Kid ran to grab them. Tiny went into the display case, barely above freezing, and got the prosciutto, salami, and honey ham. Tiny cut off 5 slices of each, discarding the first four. He placed the slices in one frying pan and started the heat. “Get a dozen eggs from the grocery cooler.” He commanded Kid while he grabbed another frying pan. Kid went in that direction, Tiny calling after. “American cheese too! The cheap stuff!”
Tiny had the meat sizzling in one pan and butter in another before Kid could get there and back. “Rolls, eggs, and cheese!”
“Cut the roll in half and butter it, one half turn of the pepper grinder on each side.” Tiny commanded. Kid obeyed.
Tiny grabbed the biggest egg of the dozen and cracked it into the waiting butter. As it fried, he ground pepper on top: one complete turn, then a second. He waited a little more before putting a slice of cheese on top of the egg, sliding the sizzling meat on top of that, and another slice of cheese on top of everything. In the second frying pan, he put the kaiser roll Kid had prepared face down in the sizzling oil and fat from the meat.
“I should have had more breakfast.” Kid said, trying not to drool as Tiny assembled the sandwich.
Tiny laughed. “Get yourself some Donut Tyme on the way.” Everything was neatly stacked into a sandwich, save the top of the kaiser roll. “Now, the secret.”
Tiny winked and made ‘shh’ motion at Kid. He grabbed a small plastic bottle of lime juice from the fridge and shook it. The bottle opened with a pop, crusty with dried juice. Tiny squirted a small amount on top of the meat before setting the rest of the bun on top. He leaned over to Kid and whispered. “The acid cuts the fat, and the citrus bite contrasts the flavors of the meats.”
He put the sandwich in wax paper, wrapped tight, and then sliced it in half. “You have to let it breathe, or it gets soggy.” Finally, he placed another layer of wax paper around it, more a sleeve than a wrap.
Tiny carried the sandwich out. Jerk let Tiny in behind the counter. Tiny wrote out the slip, placed the sandwich in a bag. He stapled the bag shut over the slip, before handing it to Jerk.
“City Hall. Third floor. McNally.” Jerk nodded and took the bag. “Cash only.”
As they walked, Kid peeked at the slip stapled to the outside. “Thirteen hundred twenty-nine dollars and sixteen cents? For a sandwich?” They weren’t questions. “McNally’s a councilman?” That was.
“City Comptroller.” Jerk corrected Kid.
“Tiny’s blackmailing the city’s Comptroller?”
Jerk stopped. Kid too. Jerk held up the bag. “We are delivering a sandwich!”
Jerk started walking. Kid caught up.
“A thirteen hundred dollar sandwich.” Kid was undeterred. “It didn’t smell that good.”
Jerk stopped again. Kid screeched to a halt. Jerk offered the bag. “You want to know why this sandwich costs as much as it does? Go back and ask Tiny, or you can hand it off to Comptroller McNally and ask him.”
Kid held up their hands. Backing away. “I was just curious.”
“Don’t get curious, curious people don’t deliver sandwiches. Doesn’t matter how much it costs, it’s just money.” Jerk resumed walking. He didn’t want the sandwich to get too cold. They were almost to City Hall.
McNally had a secretary. The secretary was named Ms Dunworth. Ms Dunworth was expecting them.
“Jerk!” She was grandmotherly, with half glasses, a pea green cardigan, and a tea stained smile. She considered the enigma of Kid. “And who’s this? You’re always a loner!”
“Kid.” Kid gave a small wave, doing that thing Jerk noticed where they shrink a little.
“And I’m Ms Dunworth.” She smiled again. It could brighten an abyss, tea-stains and all. “Well now that introductions are finished, Comptroller McNally told me to call when you were here!”
She picked up the receiver on her phone and pressed one of the square clear pillars. It lit up. Kid could hear the phone ring in the other room. A muffled male voice on the phone followed the muffled voice behind the door by a split second. “Yes, Comptroller McNally, they just arrived. I’ll bring them in.” She stood. Brown pencil skirt. Sensible shoes. Looked like everyone’s favorite teacher.
She opened the door, smiled, and they walked through. It clicked shut behind them.
McNally’s office was wood panelled with built-in shelves filled with books on accounting and finance. His desk dominated it, with two large leather chairs in front. A projection of his power. It hadn’t changed in the decade Jerk had been coming to it.
“Jerk, let’s see that sandwich. Jerk’s friend–” He gestured at the left chair. “–take a seat.” Kid instantly and correctly determined it was not a request and sat down in the left chair.
Jerk handed him the bag. “Price is on the slip.”
McNally looked at the slip. “Well worth the value I’ll receive, I’m sure.” His smile was too wide. He opened a drawer and pulled out a cash box, carefully counting out what he owed. He paid in a mix of twenties, fives, and ones, placing the 16 cents alongside it. Jerk took the cash, counted it out. Handed it to Kid to count too. Kid didn’t understand what they were seeing but knew what they were supposed to do.
“I hope you’ll both join me while I eat it?” McNally smiled that too-wide smile at Jerk and gestured at the right chair.
McNally took the sandwich and napkins out of the bag and began unwrapping it like a grandmother who wants to save the wrapping paper. He folded and saved the layers, placing them in his desk, out of sight. He used the paper bag as his plate. The comptroller picked up the sandwich with both hands and stopped, putting it back down.
“I should not start on this without having a glass of water ready.” He filled his glass from the pitcher on his desk before taking hold of the sandwich again.
His first bite was easily a quarter of the sandwich. It was too much for his mouth, but he chewed anyway. “Mmmm” His eyes rolled in his head and his head lolled a little. The cheese, the roll, and the meat must have been a massive wad he was chewing. He might have had trouble swallowing, if he didn’t take a huge swing of water with it. He took another bite, nearly as large. “Mfth dth toe gof!” He leaned his chair back gleefully.
McNally was oblivious to them. Kid questioned Jerk with their eyes, Jerk shrugged the same way.
McNally’s chair tilted forward, and he grabbed his glass of water to wash down the second bite, slamming down the empty glass and refilling it with one hand while he shoved the sandwich into his face again for another encounter with the other. “Toe gof!”
“What. The. Hell.” Was the first thing Kid said when they got to the street. They sucked on a peppermint candy Ms Dunworth had offered them as they left.
Jerk shrugged. “Sandwich delivery.”
“That smelled like a blackmail, but he acted like we delivered him the Holy Grail.”
“It’s just money.” Jerk repeated that to himself a lot during situations like this. “Sandwich delivery.” He started heading back towards The News, wad of money in his pocket.
“‘It’s just money.’” Kid repeated, following behind and not sounding convinced.