Snitch Factory: A Novel by Peter Plate Read Free Book Online Page B

some cleaning. That’s why I’m here.”
    “Is that so? You made your move, now tell me what it’s about.”
    “I wasn’t doing anything, Charlene. I was just tidying things up.”
    “But who gave you the right to do this when I wasn’t here?”
    “Nobody did. I’m a janitor. I can go anywhere I want to.”
    “I’m gonna ask you again. Why are you doing this? Did somebody tell you to?”
    He whined, “C’mon, you’re making more of this than you have to.”
    I could neither extol nor repudiate the man; he would tell me zilch. Eldon saw the expression in my eyes, and like a pet when it sees its master acting strange, he turned sideways and began to whimper.
    “You aren’t going to say anything about this, are you?”
    “Is that all you’re concerned with? Aw, for fuck’s sake, I don’t give a shit who knows about this or not.”
    “What are you gonna do with me?”
    “How the hell do I know?”
    If you’ve ever wanted to hit someone out of spiteful frustration, hit them proper and solid; you know that dishing out physical punishment is the best method to get rid of emotional discomfort.
    However, I couldn’t slug Eldon, no matter how bilious I felt. I was right on the border of it, but that would’ve been counter-productive. He wasn’t that much taller than
me and somehow this made me pity him. The pecker saw me wavering and he took advantage of it.
    “Let me go, please. It won’t happen again.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “C’mon, Charlene.”
    “Swear on it? You won’t go apeshit on me like this again?”
    “Cross my heart and swear to die, homegirl.”
    “Get out,” I pointed at the door. “And don’t ever come back.”
    He swallowed once, then flung himself past me, leaving a bank of stale sweat and Thrifty Drugstore aftershave wafting behind him. My papers were strewn across the entire cubicle. Eldon had been diligent in his task. It would take me an hour or so to put everything away. I scratched my head, and got down on my hands and knees under the desk.

thirteen
    H arry Hendrix was at the bar with a few of the others, Simmons, Rubio and Vukovich. The bartender was getting pickled, which made her friendly, and she was trading jokes with the guys.
    Harry parked his elbows on the bar top, took his drink and held it up to the light, then said to me, “You know what? You’re dick whipped.”
    My fellow social worker’s eyes resembled boiled eggs. Since I didn’t like eggs, I had to look away. Hendrix saw everything in polarized terms and took that for cowardice on my part. He said, “You’re going to get hurt. Getting married over and over, it’s an invitation to disaster.”
    “I like my husband, Harry. He’s been kind to me, and he pays his own bills. My other husbands, they got me into hock. Have you ever been in debt? I hate it worse than getting a pap smear. I was at the pawnshop every other Friday. Anyway, when was the last time a woman was good to you? Do you remember?”
    “Don’t ask, Charlene. Don’t ask.”
    “Then don’t banter with me about that stuff.”
    “Never mind then, but what’s eating at you?”
    “What do you know about this Eldon Paskins?”

    “Who’s that?” Harry asked, curious because he couldn’t recognize the name.
    “The janitor. The guy who looks like an albino Charles Bronson.”
    “I don’t know. We don’t talk. What would I say to him? You know, there’s people I don’t relate to, and he hasn’t made that much of an impression on me. What about him?”
    “He was going through my desk.”
    “You saw him do that?”
    “Got him in the middle of it.”
    “Have him arrested.”
    “For that? What for?’
    “At least get him fired. You should tell Gerald.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “If you don’t want to do that, then don’t fuck with it, and don’t let it bring you down. We’re here to have a good time. Bart tested negative. There’s no greater victory in this life. Let’s drink to that.”
    “We can drink to a lot of things.