stormed away. Not until I was out on Sixth Avenue did I realize exactly what I had just done, but I wasn’t going to go back to apologize. The guy was a big-time jerk and I didn’t regret anything I’d said to him. But I knew that the situation had the potential to lead to major trouble. Steve was the teacher’s-pet type who was probably on his way to tattle on me to Bob Goldstein right now. Steve’s secret agenda all along had probably been to get me canned. Right now, as part of a company policy to avoid having multiple salesmen call the same prospects, my leads were off-limits to him. But if I left the company, my leads would be fair game and he’d be able to take advantage of all the legwork I’d already done and make a few easy sales.
I looked at my watch and saw it was twenty to twelve. I went to the deli on Forty-eighth Street where I sometimes had lunch, but when I got there I decided I wasn’t very hungry. Instead, I walked farther east, toward Madison Avenue.
I remembered the address for Michael J. Rudnick, Esquire, that I had gotten off the Internet last week and I decided to go to the office building to see if this was the Michael Rudnick I knew. I had no idea what this would accomplish, but I wanted to see him again anyway.
It was still before twelve, so my idea was to hang out in front of his building on Fifty-fourth and Madison until one. I hoped he would leave the building for lunch before then. If not, I’d just come back some other time.
Probably because of the sunny, pleasant weather, there was a steady stream of people entering and leaving the building. I bought a knish from a cart on the corner, looking over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t miss Rudnick. I returned to the building and ate the knish standing up, leaning against a ledge. There was a courtyard across from me with tables and chairs set up and people were seated, talking and eating. Along the adjacent building there was an artificial waterfall and a fountain at the bottom. After I finished the knish, I took off my suit jacket and mopped the sweat off my forehead with a napkin, still staring at the building.
I decided that I might be wasting my time. Even if Michael J. Rudnick, Esquire, was the right Michael Rudnick, how did I know he went out for lunch instead of eating in, or that he’d leave the building through the Fifty-fourth Street exit? Maybe there was another exit on Madison Avenue or on Fifty-fifth Street.
It was almost one o’clock and there was still no sign of him. I decided to wait ten more minutes. When the ten minutes passed, I decided to wait another five. Finally, I gave up. Walking back toward Madison, I called my office on my cell phone to see if I had any messages—I didn’t. I put the phone away in my briefcase when Rudnick appeared, walking toward me. He was with another man, and they were both smiling and laughing. Unlike the other day, Michael wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and now I was absolutely positive that it was him. His eyebrows were the clincher. He had plucked the hairs above his nose to eliminate the caterpillar effect, but each eyebrow was just as thick and noticeable as when he was a teenager.
He was about ten yards away when I first spotted him, but it seemed to take forever until we passed. I was aware of how terrified I felt, like a kid in a classroom when he’s called on unexpectedly by a teacher. My back was sweating and I was even starting to shake. When Michael was a few feet in front of me, his gaze shifted and he was staring right at me. Suddenly, he stopped smiling. He was probably only looking at me for an instant, but it seemed much longer, and his narrow, dark eyes were like lasers. Even though I was taller than he was and I probably weighed at least twenty pounds more than he did, I felt like he was ten feet tall, with Mike Tyson’s body, and I was an anorexic midget. I didn’t feel like an adult anymore either. I was just a weak, naive, defenseless ten-year-old.
As
I looked at my watch and saw it was twenty to twelve. I went to the deli on Forty-eighth Street where I sometimes had lunch, but when I got there I decided I wasn’t very hungry. Instead, I walked farther east, toward Madison Avenue.
I remembered the address for Michael J. Rudnick, Esquire, that I had gotten off the Internet last week and I decided to go to the office building to see if this was the Michael Rudnick I knew. I had no idea what this would accomplish, but I wanted to see him again anyway.
It was still before twelve, so my idea was to hang out in front of his building on Fifty-fourth and Madison until one. I hoped he would leave the building for lunch before then. If not, I’d just come back some other time.
Probably because of the sunny, pleasant weather, there was a steady stream of people entering and leaving the building. I bought a knish from a cart on the corner, looking over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t miss Rudnick. I returned to the building and ate the knish standing up, leaning against a ledge. There was a courtyard across from me with tables and chairs set up and people were seated, talking and eating. Along the adjacent building there was an artificial waterfall and a fountain at the bottom. After I finished the knish, I took off my suit jacket and mopped the sweat off my forehead with a napkin, still staring at the building.
I decided that I might be wasting my time. Even if Michael J. Rudnick, Esquire, was the right Michael Rudnick, how did I know he went out for lunch instead of eating in, or that he’d leave the building through the Fifty-fourth Street exit? Maybe there was another exit on Madison Avenue or on Fifty-fifth Street.
It was almost one o’clock and there was still no sign of him. I decided to wait ten more minutes. When the ten minutes passed, I decided to wait another five. Finally, I gave up. Walking back toward Madison, I called my office on my cell phone to see if I had any messages—I didn’t. I put the phone away in my briefcase when Rudnick appeared, walking toward me. He was with another man, and they were both smiling and laughing. Unlike the other day, Michael wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and now I was absolutely positive that it was him. His eyebrows were the clincher. He had plucked the hairs above his nose to eliminate the caterpillar effect, but each eyebrow was just as thick and noticeable as when he was a teenager.
He was about ten yards away when I first spotted him, but it seemed to take forever until we passed. I was aware of how terrified I felt, like a kid in a classroom when he’s called on unexpectedly by a teacher. My back was sweating and I was even starting to shake. When Michael was a few feet in front of me, his gaze shifted and he was staring right at me. Suddenly, he stopped smiling. He was probably only looking at me for an instant, but it seemed much longer, and his narrow, dark eyes were like lasers. Even though I was taller than he was and I probably weighed at least twenty pounds more than he did, I felt like he was ten feet tall, with Mike Tyson’s body, and I was an anorexic midget. I didn’t feel like an adult anymore either. I was just a weak, naive, defenseless ten-year-old.
As
Similar Books
