Conference Call

      Mr. D'Antoni was in a situation. He had to settle his accounts, only he didn't have enough cash to. He had to sell some of his newer properties, but he couldn't find a buyer. They wanted his core properties. They wanted his big moneymakers. And they wanted them for what he wanted to sell his distressed properties for.

     "So do we have a deal?" the head of the South Florida property company said.

     "I can't, I'm sorry. I can't sell these properties for what you're offering."
     "If you can't, you can't, but we're going to move on a project soon. Yours is definitely, our total highest priority, we want to do it so much. We see huge potential, we really like that block and we believe in the neighborhood it's in. But, you know, we can't just sit on the cash. We need returns. So we'll give you until the end of the day on Friday and then we're going to say, we'll withdraw the offer."
     Mr. D'Antoni really hated it. They were playing hardball with him, and there was literally no other options. They were the only buyer. They could have played even harder, and there was nothing he could have done about it. He needed cash. He couldn't borrow anything. He had only one thing to turn into cash and it was his block of Geary Street.

     Well, he decided, he would still hold on to a piece of it. He would still have some of it. And, who knew, maybe they would tired of the property and Federico would be in a better place in a couple years. He could have his properties back then. But if he couldn't settle, it was going to court, and if it went to court, he was going to be dealing with that instead of trying to salvage what he could from his assets.

     "Okay, let's meet again on Friday. Say 10 AM? What time is that on the East Coast. 1? Is that okay?"
     "Yes," the man said. "Friday. We're really excited."
     "Okay. Thank you. Talk to you Friday."
     When they hung up, he looked over at his lawyer.

     "You're really getting screwed on this deal."
     Mr. D'Antoni nodded, and rapped his cane. "These are hard times. Could get harder. No choice in the matter. Hold on and maybe things get worse."
     His lawyer nodded. In these situations, it was sometimes necessary to, like bad medicine, swallow it all in one drop.

Home

      As Mr. Drummel usually did, he arrived home to a late dinner and he and the wife would talk, usually not about work, but they couldn't avoid it that night.

     "I think I ought to call Santos."
     "Uh huh."
     "I think I ought to take it back."
     "How can you?"
     "Just take it back. Say it's okay. Say he can work when he wants."
     "You can't do that."
     "Why can't I? I can do it at any moment."
     "You can do that, but that will be the end of your business. You may as well just walk away from it."
     "It's just a hard time. It won't last forever."
     "But what if it does? You can't expect that things will turn around tomorrow or next week. You've got to be prepared for anything. Not only Santos that works there. You got twelve members of your staff, including your wife and your son, kids, yeah college kids, but they're surviving based on the ten twelve hours a week. They're eating something better than ramen at night because your business is doing okay."

     "Yeah, but I got to admit it: I just can't do it anymore. I can't do it without him. I'm tired. I'm old."
     "Why can't Rafael do it?"
     "You know what you got in Rafael."
     "Have you ever tried? Did you approach him like you approach Santos. Tell him what he has to do? Tell him what he's not doing? You and Santos treat him like a child. He's not a child. He's a grown man. With kids, a wife. You tell him what he's got to do, well then that's what he's got to do, right?"
     "Yeah," he said, but he didn't feel it was realistic.

     "Hire somebody else, then. You don't have it on staff, then you hire for it."
     "Yeah. But I could just call Santos, maybe we could negotiate."
     "You did negotiate. He has a job and you have a business."
     He nodded, and then went back to his food.

     "I guess you're right, dear. I guess you're right."

The Other End of the Call

      "What should I do?" Esteban asked his father.

     "I don't know. Go to work I guess."
     "You think I should?"
     "You might as well. This is between me and him."
     Esteban didn't know whether to go to school or not. He didn't know whether to go to work or not. He didn't know whether to stay in San Francisco or not. It felt like a fever dream, and he didn't see it getting any better.

     "Okay, then. Will I see you tomorrow?"
     "No," his father said, very sure of it, but Esteban had a feeling he'd think better of it tomorrow.

     I mean, he had to, right? He had to show up tomorrow or else he'd be fired, and that would be it, that would be the end of everything he had built up in his life over the last twenty years. Every penny he still had, every bit of his effort and energy.

     But he wouldn't tell his dad that. He just hoped his dad would know.

     "What will happen to the house?" Esteban said.

     "I don't know," his father said. "I don't know what happens with anything. But don't worry about it. Go to school. Go to work. Do your thing. You graduate from high school, you put some money in your pocket, that's it. That's everything. Don't worry about the rest."
     But the truth was, Santos was on the other end of the phone crying. He felt it. The whole of his effort and energy for the whole of his life had been for just about nothing.

Rude Arrival

 

           Damien came up the stairs with his usual expectation of me-time. 

     His dad called up the stairs.

     "Grab an apron," Damien's dad said to him gruffly.    

     He never talked to his son like that. Well, when it came to doing something his mother asked him, he did, but never about anything Damien needed to do.

     Damien was bewildered, but did as he was told and ran down the stairs to catch up to his dad.

     So much of the load was still being worked through, and it didn't look like Rafael was making much headway, although he was making intimations like he meant to leave.

     His hopes were dashed when Mr. Drummel asked him if he could stay until close.

     "No problem," Mr. Drummel said, although his eyes looked downcast when he agreed to it.

     Damien started working on the load, realizing as time went on that Rafael was making things worse, not better, and he wasn't rotating stock properly, shoving product on the shelf so it got damaged, and so on. Maybe he was just tired, Damien thought, as he looked like he had been working without a break since six.

     But still, Damien thought. This guy is a mess.

     He made sure later to check in with his dad.

     "What's up with Rafael?"
     "What do you mean?" Mr. Drummel said.

     "Guy's a mess."
     "Must have been a long day."
     "Sure, but still--"
     "We don't have the luxury right now of being picky," he barked at his son.

     Damien nodded, but said nothing.

     "You should get on home," his dad said. "You've got school tomorrow."
     He nodded again.

     "Dad," he said. "I'm sorry, dad."

     His dad looked up with his wide eyes that were usually covered by his grizzled eyelids.
     "Don't worry about it. I'll see you at home."
     Damien nodded, but he had no intention of going home. He had a date with Candy later, and he was hoping things would go very well for him.

     He felt like a real man. Working all day, and going to his woman at night.

     But he didn't want to get sucked in. He wanted to go to Arizona in the fall and he wasn't going to maintain this relationship.

     Oh shit, he realized. I forgot to ask dad about the advance.

     Oh well, he thought, she'll understand.

Power

      It was very simple to Santos. There was absolutely no way he could save his house with the pay he was being offered. He could refinance his house and stay in his home, but the payment would be almost $4,000 a month. His wife made about $2,500. If he didn't make at least as much, he wouldn't have enough to get to and from work, and that was leaving alone eating.

     If Esteban had a job and gave over everything, they could just survive. But Esteban had just two shift a week now, and it looked like they may lay him off entirely. He was talking about getting another job, but it just appeared like there was no way.

     Unless he held out for more. Unless he stood his ground and said him and Esteban would get paid or they would walk out.

     Labor militancy had always seemed the parvenu of the lazy and incompetent, and, above all, privileged. He had never been represented by a union, and he had previously never had a desire to. But now, things were different. Representation would change the ability of management to make one-sided decisions, and, because he was not represented by one, he had no recourse.

     The owners could claim poverty and that was that.

     Well, he decided, since there's only one way, he had to do what he had to do. He picked up the phone and he called Mr. Drummel.

     "Hello?"

     "Yes, Mr. Drummel, it's Santos."
     "What is it?"
     "I'm not coming into work today."
     "Oh, no, what happened? Did you break down?"
     "No. My car is fine. I'm fine. I'm just not coming into work today."
     Mr. Drummel on the other end of the line felt a shiver go down his spine.

     "You mean you quit?" Mr. Drummel said. 

     He'd been through this a million times with the cashier girls. They would work a week or two and then decide it wasn't for them, or they would work for several months and call and make ridiculous demands, probably because of a sudden cash crush due to drugs.

     He'd never caved before, and he wasn't going to cave now. But he never thought Santos would do such a thing. Never. He had all the respect in the world for Santos before.

     "Why should I quit, man? What have I done?"

     "Well you don't want to work. What do I call that?"
     "Well, Mr. Drummel, I can't step foot through that door being treated like I am by you and your family, so you decide what you have to do."
     "I don't have to do anything," Mr. Drummel said. "That's what at-will employment means. I have been very good to your family over the years. My God, we pay you a fortune."
     "I never heard you complain while we were making money."

     "I'm not having this conversation with you," Mr. Drummel said. "I have a position for you, if you want it, but the terms aren't going to change. If we get busier, I will give you more hours. As business is now, I can't. If you're willing to throw away what hours I can give you because I can't give you everything then so be it. I'll miss you, but we will manage without you, if we have to."
     Nr. Drummel was giving himself a pep talk. He could feel his bones creaking just thinking about doing the load by himself.

     "Well, do it then," Santos said and hung up the phone.

     Santos could feel the blood in his head beating. He felt good, but as time wore on, he felt less good.

     "I'm making the right decision," he told himself.

     Mr. Drummel on the other side said the same thing, and went out to help Rafael with the load.

     

In Rafael's House

      When Rafael came home with the news that his hours had been cut, his wife got very offended.

     "Papi," she said. "You think I'm going to love you any less because there's a little less money? You must think so little of me, or you must not remember where we came from, what things were like way back when."
     "I know, mami, but think about it. Think of all the things we won't be able to do."

     "We going to be able to eat?"
     "Well, yeah."
     "We going to be able to make rent?"
     "Yeah, of course."
     "Then what we need?"
     "Nice things."
     "There will be time for that, papi. There will be time for that."
     He smiled. "You're right, mami. We're going to be fine."
     "Better than fine, papi, and you know what? This is going to be the beginning of something big for us, I bet you. I bet you even though this seems like trouble, that it will end up being a big opportunity for us instead."
     "You think?"
     "No, papi. I know it."
     Rafael smiled. He had a good woman. He really did.

     "This mean we won't celebrate my birthday?" little David said.

     "No, no," Rosarita assured him. 

     "We going to celebrate your birthday in style!" Rafael said. "Don't you worry. You're going to have the best birthday of your life!"
     David giggled a little.

     What a wonderful thing it was to have family at a time like this one!

A Sudden Romance

     The thrill of a first kiss can never be diminished, except by shame afterward, if it represented a total loss of control, and the end result is a lover you can't stand to look at. But after Candy kissed Damien, she felt none of that. Damien felt none of that. Candy needed someone like Damien, someone with no cares. Damien needed Candy, someone with whom he'd be able to do everything he hoped, without the teenage awkwardness of convincing.

     They lie in the back of his car, looking at each other with knowing eyes, and kissing each other gently, before Candy spoke.

     "I'm in kind of a difficult situation with my boyfriend," she said.

     "Yes," Damien said.

     She sat up in the seat, coming back in her mind to the situation at her home.

     "I don't think I've gotten rid of him completely."
     "No," Damien agreed.

     "And then there's the rent, which will be due soon."
      Damien nodded.

     "Do you think..."
     "What?"
     "Do you think there's any chance your dad would advance me the money from my first check?"

     "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't he?"
     "I don't know. He doesn't know me."
     "He would, if you explained it to him. You need to make rent."

     He looked kind of disinterested in the whole thing, which concerned Candy, as she thought he might take an interest in, even chip in, but he was just a kid. He didn't know anything about making rent. She liked that about him, that he hadn't yet been touched by the world and all of the difficult things to be found there, but then again, she was in a tough spot.

     She put on her doe eyes.

     "Would you explain it to him?"

     "Yeah, sure, no problem. I can explain it to him. But I really don't think it's that big a deal. You've already earned most of the money, anyway."

     "True."
     She cheered up again, and lay back down on the back seat. After a little while, they both went to sleep peacefully in each other's arms.