Mantrap

“Yes. LT is drooling all over his rosewood desk. If Teddy got a feel for the chemistry in that room …” “It’s pheromones,” said Dickie. “What is?” I said. I instantly regretted the question. Dickie was screwing up his features for an attempted answer. “That’s how they do it. They give off pheromones. There is no defense against it. You can’t see it, smell it or taste it. It’s like plutonium.” “This one doesn’t need pheromones. She can pull ‘em in on looks alone. I can feel the pull right now and there are three solid walls between us.” Just then, a voice bellowed “Maxwell!” It was the man who pays my salary. I was wanted. He must have been desperate to call me Maxwell. Maybe she had him pinned for a three count. Believe me, that is all it would take. Oh, and just for the record, the name is Maximilian. That is why I try to stick to Max. I blame my parents. Who doesn’t? When I got to the greenroom, she was nowhere in sight. LT had his shirt collar unbuttoned. He was sweating. It was not that hot, at least the air was not. “What do you want?” I asked him. “Where’d she go?” “She went to use the powder room. I do not want you to ever, ever leave me alone in a room with that woman. Do you understand me? I am serious. She is a danger to … ah …my entire enterprise.” “You are getting the tingle?” I said. He just stared at me for a beat, and then he said, “Where is the wine?” I stupidly looked down at my own empty hands. Then I looked up and said, “You bellowed.” “I don’t bellow.” “You called me Maxwell. You only do that when you are, as you like to say, in extremity.” “I was. She has signed a contract.” He looked down at his blotter. There was a page of his usual boilerplate word document ending in her blue swirly signature. It went right over his. She was on top. “I’ll need that wine.” I went back to the kitchen. I heard the powder room door opening as I reached the kitchen doorway. I did not look back. I didn’t want to turn into a pillar of salt, or anything else. Dickie looked up when I moved past him. He is a mood reader. It says something about his childhood. When there is yelling in the house, Dickie goes very quiet and he tries to make himself as small as possible. If nature had provided him with a carapace, he would have ducked into it. “We have a new client,” I said as I grabbed the wine, a wine bucket, two plastic shovels full of ice and the Cassis. boss. “Who?” said Dickie. “Carlito Penumbra’s woman,” I said over my shoulder. “Uh oh,” said Dickie. He said it all in two little noises. Dickie plays with Tarot cards and watches psychics and reads horoscopes. Maybe he had a psychic hint of what was coming. I am too aware of the present to put much thought into the future. I did not see any of it coming, but our lives as we knew them were all about to change. The biggest change would leave its violent mark on all of us. In a few months time, I would have nowhere to go and nothing to do. But I’m getting to that. That was in the future. In the present of the time I am describing, I had to get the wine in to the greenroom.