Girlfriends (Patrick Sanchez) (13 page)

“I guess he was hot.”

“So what? That doesn’t give him the right to gross people out,” Gina continued, certainly not mentioning to Linda that the real reason the man had such an effect on her was because he reminded her of Griffin and that awful night with him. “If you’re height-weight proportionate and go to the gym five days a week, fine, be naked for all I care. If not, keep your fucking clothes on,” Gina responded before changing the subject. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, didn’t your sister graduate from George Washington University?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Does she have an alumni directory?”

“I’m not sure. She didn’t like it there very much.”

“Can you ask her if I can borrow it if she has one? If she doesn’t, would you do me a favor, and ask her to order one for me? I tried to get one myself, but they wouldn’t send it to me. They’ll only send it to former students like your sister. I guess they’re afraid I’m going to try to hock Avon to all the graduates or something. I’ll pay her for it.”

“What do you want it for?”

“I just want to look up an old friend,” Gina replied with a grin. “Here’s the number to call and order a copy.”

“Okay,” Linda shrugged. “I’ll do it after lunch.”

“Thanks. Hey, do you think she would go downtown and pick it up? Or maybe she can have it FedExed?”

“I’ll ask her. Are you going to tell me what it’s for?” Linda asked.

“If things work out, I will definitely give you the scoop.”

“Whatever, Gina.”

Gina sat down at her desk and was starting to organize the files she left out from the day before, when she saw Jim Toosh walk into the bank. He was the regional manager and was responsible for Gina’s branch as well as for four or five other offices in the area. He rarely came out to the branches, and when he did, it usually meant there was some sort of problem. Gina got completely out of sorts every time he showed up at the bank. She figured he was probably around forty. He was tall and thin and really didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor. She always wondered whether he owned anything other than a closet full of navy blue suits and black wingtips.

When they first met, Gina was amused by his last name, Toosh. From that day on it always reminded her of the word “douche.” During Gina’s first few months with the bank she and Linda decided to have a little fun at Mr. Toosh’s expense. It was very late on a Friday or Saturday night. They had just returned from an evening of drinking and were polishing off a few more beers at Gina’s apartment. At some point during their drunken conversation, Mr. Toosh’s name came up, and they laughed about his long, bony arms and the awful way he slicked his hair back. Eventually, Gina got the idea to look him up in the local phone book and give him a ring. By this time it must have been three
A.M.

“Hello,” Mr. Toosh said, sounding as if Gina had woken him up.

“Hi. Is this Mr. Douche?” Gina asked, trying to disguise her voice even though he probably wouldn’t have recognized it anyway.

“It’s Toosh. Who is this?”

“Yes, what kind of douches do you sell, Mr. Douche? I would like to order a mountain-fresh-scented one. Oops, you’d better make it two. I’m having that not so fresh feeling,” Gina replied, trying to hold back the laughter. As she waited for his response, she heard a click on the other end of the phone. It was Mr. Toosh hanging up. Gina put the phone back on the receiver, and she and Linda howled with drunken laughter. Seconds later Gina’s phone rang.

“Hello,” Gina said.

“Gina, this is Jim Toosh. You’re quite the comedian, but would you please conduct your antics before midnight. I need my sleep,” Mr. Toosh said as if he were talking to a five-year-old child.

Gina was so mortified, she couldn’t speak. She just hung up the phone. In a split second it seemed as though her buzz was gone. Her heart was pounding, and she felt a wave of nausea. Linda figured out the circumstances just by looking at Gina.

“Oh, my God. He must have some kind of caller ID or something. Shit! Shit! Shit!” Gina shouted at Linda in a panic.

Gina spent the rest of the night in a state of worry and disarray. Was she fired? Should she bother coming into work on Monday? What would she say to Mr. Toosh the next time she saw him if she wasn’t fired?

As it turned out, Gina did go to work, and a few weeks later when she saw Mr. Toosh neither one mentioned the incident, but, since then, Gina was never quite herself in the company of Mr. Toosh.

Mr. Toosh, Gina, and Linda assembled around the small table in the back office. Liz Cox, the branch manager and Gina’s boss, was also there. Mr. Toosh was his usual staid self. “How are you ladies doing?”

“Fine,” they replied in unison.

“I wanted to get together to go over exactly what happened the day of the attempted robbery. I have to say that we have some concerns about your disappearance following the incident,” Mr. Toosh said, looking at Gina.

She had wondered why no one had approached her regarding the incident, but it had been a few weeks, so she figured she was safe. After her margarita at Rio Grande she went home and called Linda. She told her to tell everyone that she needed the rest of the day off. Linda explained to Gina what happened after the robbery and how perturbed the cops were that she left without telling anyone. She also mentioned that Liz had finally arrived and was asking about Gina. After she got off the phone, Linda explained to everyone that Gina was traumatized from the incident and needed to go home. The police were supposed to call Gina later that day for a statement, but they never did.

Linda immediately came to Gina’s defense. “I told both of you already that Gina needed to get out of here. She had just had some deranged lunatic shove a knife in her face.” Linda spoke in a tone that only she could afford. She was probably one of the bank’s best employees, not to mention one of the most underpaid.

“What exactly did you want to know, Mr. Toosh?” Gina said, interrupting Linda.

“Liz and I have been discussing your progress, and we both feel that your leaving the bank without any notice isn’t something we can just let go.”

Gina’s blood pressure was beginning to rise. She could feel her pulse and was starting to get hot. She was especially embarrassed to have them speak to her in this fashion in front of Linda. She wasn’t sure why it was necessary to include her.

“Mr. Toosh, she didn’t leave without any notice. She told me she was leaving, and I said I’d handle things. Which I did, so I’m not sure I understand the problem,” Linda said, looking at both Mr. Toosh and Liz.

“Linda, when I asked where Gina was the day of the robbery, you said you didn’t know,” Liz shot back at Linda.

“Well, I’m not sure what I said, but I do remember her telling me she was leaving,” Linda lied.

“All right, Linda, it looks like it might be getting a little busy out there,” Liz said, gesturing toward a customer waiting in the lobby. “You had better get back to work.”

Linda walked out of the room, making it obvious that she wasn’t happy about being dismissed.

“Despite what Linda said, Liz and I have some serious concerns about your progress with the bank. There are several areas where you need to improve if you want to excel with Premier. We like you, Gina, and want you to continue on with us, but for this to happen you are going to have to make a serious effort toward improving your performance.”

“Well, what exactly are we talking about here?” Gina asked, feeling about two inches tall and wondering how a conversation about an attempted robbery had all of a sudden turned into her performance evaluation.

“We would like you to develop a plan—a written plan about how you are going to improve in the areas of organization, timeliness, sales, and overall progress toward a branch manager position,” Liz said, looking at Gina. “You need to write down tangible goals and develop a time line for meeting these goals. Fact is, you can’t make a career of being an assistant manager. It’s supposed to be a springboard to bigger things, and you’ve been in this position too long.”

“Can you tell me a little more about what you’re looking for?” Gina said, trying to sound as if she gave a shit about their stupid plan.

Liz was about to elaborate, when Mr. Toosh interjected condescendingly, “I’m not sure how much clearer we can be, Gina. I think we’re done here. We’ll expect to see something on Monday. Have a good day, ladies,” Mr. Toosh said as he got up from the table and left the room.

Gina sat there for a minute with Liz just staring blankly at her. Gina wanted to call her a bitch, get up from the table, pack up her desk, and leave. She knew she was being set up to be fired anyway. She got up from the table trying to make it look like she was about to cry, hoping this would make Liz feel sorry for her.

She left Liz’s office and sat down at her desk. Luckily, Linda was helping a customer, so she wasn’t attacking Gina for details just yet. She had no idea how she was going to come up with this ridiculous plan and wasn’t sure if she would even bother. She was upset over the reprimand, but deep down she knew everything they said was true. She didn’t like her job and barely made any effort beyond showing up and going through the motions. In fact, she really didn’t want to excel at the bank. The idea was absurd. She had no desire to be anything like Liz or Mr. Toosh. They lived for the bank. It was their lives. To her, excelling at the bank might be more pathetic than failing.

In the midst of all this, Shirley showed up and wanted Gina to help her find some money she couldn’t account for in her checking account. She stood over Gina’s desk in a pair of cut-off jeans and a super-tight white T-shirt.

“Hi, sweetie. Can you give me a hand with this account? I’m off again.”

Recognizing the voice, Gina responded without lifting her head. “Off again, huh? What is it this time?”

“I can’t find thirty dollars.”

“I’m sure it’s just an ATM transaction you forgot to write down.”

“Well, can we check in the computer? Then maybe I can take you to lunch?”

“Lunch? It’s not even ten o’clock.”

“A late breakfast, then.”

“Not today, Shirley. It’s just not a good time.”

“You never have time for me, sweetie. Come on, I’ve got a coupon for the Olive Garden.”

“I said no, Shirley,” Gina replied in the same tone she often took with Shirley, as if she were speaking to a persistent teenager.

“How about you, Linda? Wanna go to lunch? My treat,” Shirley asked, looking in Linda’s direction.

Linda was about to say “sure,” until she caught a glimpse of Gina’s glare.

“I’m sorry, Shirley, but today just isn’t good for me either.”

“Well, maybe I can find some bum on the street and take him to lunch,” Shirley snapped, starting to walk out the door.

“Won’t be the first time,” Gina said under her breath. “Just don’t fuck him.”

Gina watched Shirley sashay from the bank, wondering if there was any one woman on earth with a more chaotic life or screwed-up priorities than Shirley. Did anyone have the kind of relationship with their own mother that Gina did with Shirley? She loved Shirley dearly and looked out for her more than Shirley did for herself, but sometimes it seemed like such a waste of time and effort. Gina always felt like she was more of a mother to Shirley than Shirley ever was to her, and Gina acted the same way good parents always did—no matter how futile it seemed, she never gave up on Shirley. Gina knew—she just knew—that one day Shirley would make something of herself. Shirley had so much going for her. She was smart and attractive and so at ease with people. There were many times when Gina wanted to give up on Shirley—she wanted to ignore the phone when Shirley was calling to ask Gina to bail her out of whatever mess she had gotten herself into, she wanted to refuse to give Shirley money to make her car payments so that it wouldn’t be repossessed, she wanted to stop hounding Shirley about her smoking, the list went on and on.... But Gina continued to help Shirley out, reprimand her, and offer advice even though she knew Shirley would usually just ignore it.

Sometimes Gina admired and was even jealous of Shirley’s carefree attitude, but most of the time Gina feared, more than anything, ending up like her mother—middle-aged, alone, and trying desperately to look youthful.

The Stakeout

D
amn, if only I had asked for his number, Gina thought to herself as she fumbled with the alumni directory from George Washington University she had asked Linda about the day before. Linda’s sister actually did have a copy, so Linda brought it into work for Gina, still not knowing what the hell she wanted it for. Gina flipped to the section listing 1996 graduates. She remembered that David, the guy she met at Rio Grande, said he graduated about five years ago with a degree in finance. How many Davids could have graduated with that degree in ’96? Of course, it could have been ’95 or maybe ’97. He did say he graduated
about
five years ago. She would have to check all three. Luckily, the directory was categorized according to majors. There were two Davids under the finance section for 1993, none in ’94, and four in ’95. Of all the Davids, only two still resided in the D.C. area, David Manion and David Capricio. She figured Capricio sounded Italian, and
her
David definitely looked Italian or maybe Latino or Middle Eastern.

Gina was about to mark and highlight the two names in the book, when she remembered that it was only on loan from Linda’s sister. She copied down the names and their corresponding addresses and wondered if she might have time to check out at least one of the addresses during lunch; however, she knew that she had better use her lunch break to start developing that plan Mr. Toosh and Liz were making her come up with. She only had a few days until it was due.

When lunchtime finally arrived, Gina tried to get started on her improvement plan. So far all she had was the title typed on her monitor. In exasperation she continued typing:

Career Improvement Plan

My plan to improve and excel with Premier Bank includes shoving a big ole board up my ass, so I can be just like Mr. Toosh. . . .