The dogs in the painting hanging from the north wall of Joseph's apartment looked down on Garret and Joseph. The sun shone through the apartment's front windows as the hands of Joseph's grandfather's old clock struck Ten.
"What's going on today?" asked Garret.
Joseph lay on a beaten up, very comfy leather loveseat. "Let's go to a diner."
"Now?"
"Yeah."
"Aramingo?"
"Nah."
"Acropolis?"
"It closed."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Bummer."
"Huge bummer."
"Hmm. Spring Garden Restaurant?"
"I was just there."
"Mugshot?"
"The coffee shop?"
"No, the diner on York."
"Haven't been yet."
"Let's check it out."
Joseph shook his head. "I don't feel like trying a new place."
"We could bike to South Philly. Oregon, Broad, Melrose, Penrose…."
"Penrose? You crazy? I love it, but dude we're in Fishtown. You realize how far that is?"
Garret threw his hands into the air. "Okay, I give up. Pick one or let's just hang here."
"Let's go to Aramingo."
"Dude, that's the first one I said."
Fifteen minutes later, a white haired waitress stood before them in a shirt a little too tight and a little too low cut. The decade could've been any of the last six – nobody there would know the difference.
"Eggs over easy, bacon, potatoes, white toast, small stack on the side. Coffee, small orange juice, water please."
The waitress seemed to absorb Garret's order. She looked at Joseph.
"Coffee, black."
"That's it?" asked the waitress.
"Yeah, Joe, that's it?" Garret prodded, surprised.
"Yes please."
The waitress traipsed away from their table and checked in on another.
"Whadja wanna come to a diner for if all you want is coffee? We coulda made coffee at your apartment."
"Dunno. I just wanted to get out."
The walls around them listened on as they spoke of nothing important. The world and all of its problems, those of the '50s and the aughts and those of today, were far away and almost unreal. People in booths and at tables around them touched their forks to plates of scrapple and chipped beef and waffles and looked at each other and talked about family and friends and their dreams.
Garret and Joseph finished up and rode back to Joseph's apartment and didn't do much for the rest of the day. They weren't hungover or jaded or depressed, but content to just be. Joseph looked for a while at the painting of dogs on his wall. He'd never noticed a faint smile on the face of a sitting beagle.
Showing posts with label Aramingo Diner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aramingo Diner. Show all posts
Sweet Revenge
"Is Dan there?"
Don't people say 'hello' anymore, thought Dan. "Who's asking?"
"Name's Johnson. Is Dan there?"
"What's this in reference to?"
"I have an important matter to discuss with him. There's money involved. I'd rather not discuss it over the phone, so I'd like to arrange a meeting."
"I don't know anyone named Johnson. Well, that's not true, but you're not that Johnson."
"So is this Dan?"
"Where would you like to meet?"
"You choose."
"Aramingo Diner. Tomorrow morning, eight o'clock?"
"8:00 am sharp. See you there."
The next morning rolled around and Dan was more suspicious than curious. Something he didn't like in Johnson's voice, something seductive, made him wonder if he should even show up. But Dan didn't have a lot going on lately. He'd never met this Johnson, but somehow he knew just where to sit when he saw a grey haired man alone in a booth.
"Coffee, black," he told the expectant waitress.
"Daniel, it's nice to meet you."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Johnson?"
"Please, just Johnson."
Dan nodded and took a sip of his coffee, which the waitress had delivered within moments of his order.
"Until recently, you were employed at LDS Products, is that correct?" asked Johnson.
"Yes."
"And from what I understand, your departure from LDS wasn't made under the best of circumstances?"
"Being fired usually isn't."
"I didn't want to put it so harshly, Dan, but no, it usually isn't."
"So what do you want with LDS, or with me?"
"I'm sure you're aware that one of LDS' largest accounts is a certain retail chain with a presence in thirty seven states?"
"Of course I am."
"We have it on good authority that a top man at LDS has been bribing a top man at that retail chain for many, many years. Were you aware of this too?"
"No," Dan lied, "but it doesn't surprise me."
"I'll cut to the chase. We want you to blow the whistle on LDS."
Dan took a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.
"Why would you want me to do something like that, Johnson?"
"Fair question. Without going into specifics, I represent a firm that can offer a nearly identical product range to this retailer. When you blow the whistle on your former employer, they'll lose the account, and the company I represent expects to step in and take it."
"If you have the goods on LDS, why not blow the whistle yourselves?"
"Another fair question, but one you could surely answer on your own if you gave it some thought. One reason is that if the information leak were tied to the company I represent, this could hurt if not ruin their chances of winning the account in the aftermath of the scandal. Nobody likes to give business to people who cause trouble, and the leak could raise questions my clients don't want to answer. Another reason is that it'll all sound better if it comes from a former LDS employee, and you're in a unique position to be that man."
"So I do the dirty work, and your clients ride in to save the day."
"Precisely."
"I could easily guess the name of the company you represent."
"Maybe, but don't bother because I won't confirm it. And why should it matter to you anyway?"
"You're right, it doesn't matter to me. What does matter to me is what you're offering."
Johnson smiled and removed a pen from the pocket inside his suit jacket. He wrote down a number with four zeroes on a beverage napkin and slid it across the table top.
Dan looked down at the napkin and then back up at Johnson. "I know how large that account could be for your clients. I think the number you wrote down is missing a zero."
"Check, please," Johnson told the approaching waitress. He waited for her to walk away. "Dan, we're talking about cash. The amount we've offered is significant. Give it some thought."
"I've given it enough thought already. Add a zero or find another ex-LDS man to sink their ship."
Johnson smiled again as the waitress brought their tab. He removed a few bills from his wallet and stood to leave and extended a hand toward Dan. They shook.
"I'll speak with my client and get back in touch with you. Good day to you, sir."
Dan sat and finished his coffee. He had no doubt that Johnson would meet his demand, a pittance compared to the profits his clients would make if their plan were to work. "Waitress," he said, "I'll take some eggs and scrapple and white toast. And more coffee." He added, to himself, "I'm celebrating sweet revenge."
Don't people say 'hello' anymore, thought Dan. "Who's asking?"
"Name's Johnson. Is Dan there?"
"What's this in reference to?"
"I have an important matter to discuss with him. There's money involved. I'd rather not discuss it over the phone, so I'd like to arrange a meeting."
"I don't know anyone named Johnson. Well, that's not true, but you're not that Johnson."
"So is this Dan?"
"Where would you like to meet?"
"You choose."
"Aramingo Diner. Tomorrow morning, eight o'clock?"
"8:00 am sharp. See you there."
The next morning rolled around and Dan was more suspicious than curious. Something he didn't like in Johnson's voice, something seductive, made him wonder if he should even show up. But Dan didn't have a lot going on lately. He'd never met this Johnson, but somehow he knew just where to sit when he saw a grey haired man alone in a booth.
"Coffee, black," he told the expectant waitress.
"Daniel, it's nice to meet you."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Johnson?"
"Please, just Johnson."
Dan nodded and took a sip of his coffee, which the waitress had delivered within moments of his order.
"Until recently, you were employed at LDS Products, is that correct?" asked Johnson.
"Yes."
"And from what I understand, your departure from LDS wasn't made under the best of circumstances?"
"Being fired usually isn't."
"I didn't want to put it so harshly, Dan, but no, it usually isn't."
"So what do you want with LDS, or with me?"
"I'm sure you're aware that one of LDS' largest accounts is a certain retail chain with a presence in thirty seven states?"
"Of course I am."
"We have it on good authority that a top man at LDS has been bribing a top man at that retail chain for many, many years. Were you aware of this too?"
"No," Dan lied, "but it doesn't surprise me."
"I'll cut to the chase. We want you to blow the whistle on LDS."
Dan took a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.
"Why would you want me to do something like that, Johnson?"
"Fair question. Without going into specifics, I represent a firm that can offer a nearly identical product range to this retailer. When you blow the whistle on your former employer, they'll lose the account, and the company I represent expects to step in and take it."
"If you have the goods on LDS, why not blow the whistle yourselves?"
"Another fair question, but one you could surely answer on your own if you gave it some thought. One reason is that if the information leak were tied to the company I represent, this could hurt if not ruin their chances of winning the account in the aftermath of the scandal. Nobody likes to give business to people who cause trouble, and the leak could raise questions my clients don't want to answer. Another reason is that it'll all sound better if it comes from a former LDS employee, and you're in a unique position to be that man."
"So I do the dirty work, and your clients ride in to save the day."
"Precisely."
"I could easily guess the name of the company you represent."
"Maybe, but don't bother because I won't confirm it. And why should it matter to you anyway?"
"You're right, it doesn't matter to me. What does matter to me is what you're offering."
Johnson smiled and removed a pen from the pocket inside his suit jacket. He wrote down a number with four zeroes on a beverage napkin and slid it across the table top.
Dan looked down at the napkin and then back up at Johnson. "I know how large that account could be for your clients. I think the number you wrote down is missing a zero."
"Check, please," Johnson told the approaching waitress. He waited for her to walk away. "Dan, we're talking about cash. The amount we've offered is significant. Give it some thought."
"I've given it enough thought already. Add a zero or find another ex-LDS man to sink their ship."
Johnson smiled again as the waitress brought their tab. He removed a few bills from his wallet and stood to leave and extended a hand toward Dan. They shook.
"I'll speak with my client and get back in touch with you. Good day to you, sir."
Dan sat and finished his coffee. He had no doubt that Johnson would meet his demand, a pittance compared to the profits his clients would make if their plan were to work. "Waitress," he said, "I'll take some eggs and scrapple and white toast. And more coffee." He added, to himself, "I'm celebrating sweet revenge."
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