“This is private,” Jack said, glancing at the empty booths and tables around them. “Julio’s isn’t a breakfast place.” Voices drifted over from the bar area on the far side of the six foot divider topped with dead plants. “Unless you drink your breakfast.”
Julio came strutting around the partition carrying a coffee pot. His short, forty year old frame was grotesquely muscled under his tight, sleeveless shirt. He was freshly shaven, his mustache trimmed to a line, drafting pencil thin, his wavy hair was slicked back. He reeked of some new brand of cologne, more cloying than usual.
Jack coughed as the little man refilled his cup and poured one for Schaffer without asking.
“God, Julio. What is that?”
“The smell? It’s brand new. Called Midnight.”
“Maybe that’s when you’re supposed to wear it.”
He grinned. “Naw. Chicks love it, man.”
Only if they’ve spent the day in a chicken coop, Jack thought but kept it to himself.
“Is that decaf?” Schaffer asked. “I only drink decaf.”
“Don’t have any,” Julio said as he finished pouring. He strutted back to the bar.
“I can see why the place is deserted,” Schaffer said, glancing at Julio’s retreating form. “That guy’s downright rude.”
“It doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s been practicing lately.”
“Yeah? Well somebody ought to see that the owner gets wise to him.”
“He is the owner.”
“Really?” Schaffer mopped his brow again. “I tell you, if I owned this place, I’d–”
“But you don’t. And we’re not here to talk about the tavern business. Or are we?”
“No.” Schaffer suddenly became fidgety. “I’m not so sure about this anymore.”
“It’s okay. You can change your mind. No hard feelings.”
A certain small percentage of customers who got this far developed cold feet when the moment came to tell Repairman Jack exactly what they wanted him to fix for them. Jack didn’t think Schaffer would back out now. He wasn’t the type. But he’d probably want to dance a little first.
“You’re not exactly what I expected,” Schaffer said.
“I never am.”
Usually they expected either a glowering Charles Bronson type character or a real sleazo. And usually someone bigger. No one found Jack’s wiry medium frame, longish brown hair, and mild brown eyes particularly threatening. It used to depress him.
“But you look like a...yuppie.”
Jack glanced down at his dark blue Izod sports shirt, beige slacks, brown loafers, sockless feet.
“We’re on the Upper West Side, Mr. Schaffer. Yuppie Rome. And when in Rome...” Schaffer nodded grimly.
“It’s my brother in law. He’s beating up on my sister.”
“Seems like there’s a lot of that going around.”
People rarely sought out Jack for domestic problems, but this wouldn’t be the first wife beater he’d been asked to handle. He thought of Julio’s sister. Her husband had been pounding on her. That was how Jack had met Julio. They’d been friends ever since.
“Maybe so. But I never thought it would happen to Ceilia. She’s so...”
His voice trailed off.
Jack said nothing. This was the time to keep quiet and listen. This was when he got a real feel for the customer.
“I just don’t understand it. Gus seemed like such a good guy when they were dating and engaged. I liked him. An accountant, white collar, good job, clean hands, everything I wanted for Ceil. I helped him get his job. He’s done well. But he beats her.” Schaffer’s lips thinned as they drew back over his teeth. “Dammit, he beats the shit out of her. And you know what’s worse? She takes it! She’s put up with it for ten years!”
“There are laws,” Jack said.
“Right. Sure there are. But you’ve got to sign a complaint. Ceil won’t do that. She defends him, says he’s under a lot of pressure and sometimes he just loses control. She says most of the time it’s her fault because she gets him mad, and she shouldn’t get him mad. Can you believe that shit? She came over my place one night, two black eyes, a swollen jaw, red marks around her throat from where he was choking her. I lost it. I charged over their place ready to kill him with my bare hands. He’s a big guy, but I’m tough. And I’m sure he’s never been in a fight with someone who punches back. When I arrived screaming like a madman, he was ready for me. He had a couple of neighbors there and he was standing inside his front door with a baseball bat. Told me if I tried anything he’d defend himself, then call the cops and press charges for assault and battery. I told him if he came anywhere near my sister again, he wouldn’t have an unbroken bone left in his body to dial the phone with!”
“Sounds like he knew you were coming.”
“He did! That’s the really crazy part! He knew because Ceil had called from my place to warn him! And the next day he sends her roses, says how much he loves her, swears it’ll never happen again, and she rushes back to him like he’s done her a big favor. Can you beat that?”
“Nothing to keep you from getting a bat of your own and waiting in an alley or a parking lot.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it. But I’ve already threatened him – in front of witnesses. Anything happens to him, I’ll be number one suspect. And I can’t get involved in anything like that, in a felony. I mean I’ve got my own family to consider, my business. I want to leave something for my kids. I do Gus, I’ll end up in jail, Gus’ll sue me for everything I’m worth, my wife and kids will wind up in a shelter somewhere while Gus moves into my house. Some legal system!”
Jack waited through a long pause. It was a familiar Catch 22 – one that kept him in business.
Schaffer finally said, “I guess that’s where you come in.”
Jack took a sip of his coffee.
“I don’t know how I can help you. Busting him up isn’t going to change things. It sounds like your sister’s got as big a problem as he does.”
“She does. I’ve talked to a couple of doctors about it. It’s called co dependency or something like that. I don’t pretend to understand it. I guess the best thing that could happen to Ceil is Gus meeting with some sort of fatal accident.”
“You’re probably right,” Jack said.
Schaffer stared at him. “You mean you’ll...?”
Jack shook his head. “No.”
“But I thought–”
“Look. Sometimes I make a mistake. If that happens, I like to be able to go back and fix it.”
Schaffer’s expression flickered between disappointment and relief, finally settling on relief.
“You know,” he said with a small smile, “as much as I’d like Gus dead, I’m glad you said that. I mean, if you’d said okay, I think I’d have set you to it.” He shook his head and looked away. “Kind of scary what you can come to.”
“She’s your sister. Someone’s hurting her. You want him stopped but you can’t do it yourself. Not hard to understand how you feel.”
“Can you help?”
Jack drained his coffee and leaned back. Past the pots of dead brown plants hanging in the smudged front window he could see smartly dressed women wheeling their children, or white uniformed nannies wheeling other people’s children in the bright morning sunlight.