What Hides Within (16 page)

There's so much more you can do there, Clive. And then there's Connie--

"Hold up. Let's start with the raise. How do you propose I go about that one, oh great one?"

Nice. Sarcasm. I'm surprised you have enough wit for it. Anyway, if you want a raise, simply ask for one."

"That's it? That's your master plan? I don't do shit at Harcourt. Plus, Judge Judy hates me. Where's my leverage? There's no way that fat cow gives me a raise."

You're that certain, are you? Let's make a deal then. You say what I tell you to say to Ms. Large-and-in-Charge. If I get you that raise, then will you cut me some slack and start listening to me?

"And if you fail?"

I disappear. You go on with your pathetic life.

"How could I possibly resist those terms? Chester, you have yourself a deal."

***

"You want a raise? You've got one."

Clive nearly fell off his seat in shock. Low on funds, he stopped by Harcourt for an outstanding paycheck. Anxious to be rid of Chester, Clive tested her theories pertaining to his career advancement. He had barely said the ten words, "Judith, may I have a raise and an agent position?" before his request was, in part, granted. He asked for the raise half in jest to avoid any possible retaliation. He figured even Judith would cut him some slack on account of the whole brain cancer thing.

Astonished, he eventually managed, "Thank you, ma'am."

Judith smiled warmly. Clive could see her wayward stare randomly make its way to his scabbing forehead. He had gotten his bandages wet, against doctor's orders, and decided it wasn't worth the aggravation to redress the wound. The hideous stitch line was like a car accident; one couldn't help but stare. Clive returned the favor, doing his best not to stare at the three long hairs growing out of the mole on one of Judith's four chins.

"Clive, I had no idea you wanted to be an agent. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I . . ." Clive began, unable to think of an intelligent lie. He never wanted to be an insurance agent before. Somehow, he didn't think explaining to Judith that a talking spider persuaded him to seek the position would go over well.

"I didn't know I wanted it either until someone put the bug in my ear. But I think I'm ready. With your approval, of course."

"Sure, we've had our differences, but I like the fact that you're finally showing some initiative. Must be the whole near-death experience, huh? Putting life into perspective for you?"

"Something like that."
If the psychotic intervention of a talking spider willing me to ask for a raise is something like that. Chester knows best.

"I've been there, Clive. When my doctor found a lump, I didn't know what to do. It turned out to be nothing, just a hardened clump of lipid cells or something. I don't know. All I know is, it helped me reevaluate things."

Fat. It was a hard, lump of fat. She probably has many more of them. If it made her reevaluate her lifestyle, her eating habits weren't up for negotiation.

"How long have you been here?" Judith asked.

"Just over two years."

"And how many raises have you received?"

"None, ma'am."

"Clive, call me Judith. I'm not your grandmother."

That's a relief.
"Yes, Judith."

"Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. We have nothing open as far as agent positions go. For now, I'll promote you to Senior Data Enteristist . . . Entryist . . . Enterist . . . Entrist?"

Judith cleared her throat, making a sound that resembled the croak of a bullfrog. Clive tried not to imagine what she'd managed to unclog.

"You get the point," she continued. "The new position comes with a ten cent per hour raise. When an agent position opens up, I'll make sure your name is at the top of the list."

Judith leaned closer, insinuating she had something important to say. Clive didn't care. He tuned her out and pressed his lips shut, trying not to draw in too much of her tuna salad breath. He wondered if she might eat him, like one of those worm-things Jabba the Hut choked down in
Return of the Jedi
.

I'm such a Star Wars geek
, he thought.
Princess Leia in that gold bikini thing, though. I wish her name was Princess Lay-me.
The momentary distraction into sexual deviance startled Clive. The last thing he wanted was to get aroused near Judge Judy. He cringed and focused his attention back to his boss.

"--so some of those guys will be getting canned. Let's keep that between the two of us."

"What? Of course."

"You're back on Monday?"

"Yep."

"Your raise will go into effect then. You'll see it reflected in your next paycheck."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. You see, Clive, we're a team. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours."

That hardly seems fair, given the area of her back versus mine.
Clive smiled politely, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Now, go get 'em, tiger!"

As Clive left the Judge's chambers, which usually felt like walking out of a bear's den a little worse for wear, he couldn't help but think that the spider had kept its promise. Maybe Chester was merely his long-hidden ambition, finally manifesting itself in the form of an eight-legged, long-toothed, multi-eyed, opaque insect.

I'm not an insect, and I know what you're thinking.

"Dude, give me a second," Clive whispered, covering his mouth with his hand. He walked by Connie's desk toward the restroom, sending her a smile as he passed.

"I'm not having this conversation with you in public."

When he was safely within the tiled, single-toileted men's room for a floor chockfull of male employees, he locked the door behind him. He thought about having a seat on the oft-used throne. Then he thought better of it. He paced the short length of the urine-stained floor, tugging at the stubble forming on his chin.

See? I told you I'd get you a raise and a promotion. You're on the fast track toward success, kiddo. I'll take you places you never dreamed of going
.

"I never dreamed I'd be talking to a spider living in my head, either. Don't be so cocky. It was a lousy ten-cent raise."

Yeah, but that's per hour, my friend. It'll add up quickly. Watch. After only ten hours of work, you'll be able to buy yourself a double cheeseburger at Mickey D's. Eleven hours, if you count tax. Oh wait . . . McDonald's raised its prices. Thirteen hours, then. Besides, we had a deal.

"Oh, please. Ten cents ain't nearly enough to make me feel good about you living in my head. We had a deal, you say? Who are you? The Devil? Did I just trade away my soul for a measly ten cents?"

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn't.

"That's ominous," Clive said. "Is that supposed to scare me? I have a fucking bug living in my skull. How much worse could Hell be?"

A lot worse. Clive, I did what I said I'd do. Why can't you appreciate what I did for you?

"Ten cents, Chester. Ten cents! And the trade off? How do I know you're not screwing up the wiring in there?"

It's already screwed up. Trust me on that one.

"Well, you're right. It must be. A talking spider? I must be losing my mind. And I saw you, too. Hallucinations to boot. Maybe somebody slipped me something. Maybe I dreamt you."

You know I'm real.

"I know I
think
you're real. But don't insane people always think their crazy delusions are real?"

Probably.

"You're not helping. Plus, I've seen many spiders over the years. None of them have ever spoken to me before."

Maybe you just refused to listen. I had a difficult enough time getting your attention. Besides, I'm no ordinary spider. I'm one in a trillion, a rare specimen indeed. One might say, otherworldly.

"What, like from outer space? You know, that might make sense. Who knows what kind of lifeforms live out there? We would be naive to think that we were all alone in this endless universe. Maybe you flew down in a miniature spaceship to observe and report back to your spider leader. Maybe you were sent here to destroy us all."

Are you about finished? I'm not an alien, idiot. I don't even know why we're having this conversation. I was roaming this earth long before you were the half-ass, retarded sperm that somehow found its way into one of your mom's eggs. Like I said, I'm special.

"That's stating the obvious."

Clive fell back against the wall, gasping as the breath collapsed out of him. He recalled Chester's earlier statement, and for the first time, Clive feared the afterlife.

"Are you the Devil?"

Strange question. Where did that come from? Oh yeah, the whole 'soul' thing. I thought you weren't religious?

"Strange events call for strange explanations. You didn't answer my question."

If I were the Devil, would I tell you that I was? And why would I waste my time with you? But if it makes you feel better, no, Clive, I'm not the Devil. I'm something far older. And I'll still be here long after you're dead and buried."

"Not if I squish you."

Are you always so hostile? I don't mean you harm.

"How can I know that for sure? Why else would you want to be inside of me?"

Observation. It's what I do. I enjoy it. I watch, and I weave. It's a rather simple existence.

"And what plans have you woven for me?"

You make your own fate, Clive. I'm merely a secret voyeur that you're stuck with for a while. You do what you want. You can choose to take my advice or not. You can choose what you will be or not be. It's not always about good and evil, but about how grey you can become before you start turning black. And me, I'm just here to watch . . . for now.

"Well, if that wasn't the biggest load of uninformative horseshit I've ever heard."

Ah, yes, Clive. You always want things so straightforward. What I am may be beyond your comprehension.
Chester wheezed, a heavy sigh for a small creature. In the hollow spaces of Clive's head, Chester's sigh echoed.

Let me tell you an old Navajo creation fable that pays homage to my kind. According to the tribe's teachings, a great spider created the earth and its people. On its web, all life was interconnected, intricately interwoven in glorious harmony. Mother Spider, as they called her, took an interest in mankind. She bestowed upon man her thread and, with it, the gift of creative wisdom.

Don't worry, Clive. I'm no megalomaniac. Creation stories are, for the most part, just that, stories. Nevertheless, I can bestow that same gift upon you.

"What the hell are you going on about? Who gives a shit about Navajo fairytales? What I want to know is, what are you supposed to be 'watching'? And 'for now'? What's that supposed to mean?"

Think of me as a stowaway. I'll move on when the time is right. You have my word.

"And in the meantime?"

Hopefully, you'll come to grips with my presence. If you do, I'll help you enjoy your remaining days in this world. Who knows? Your afterlife may prove to be a real bitch.

"Okay, comments like that are unsettling."

Chester's laughter sent a wave of electric razor-like vibrations through Clive's congested cranium. Its high-pitched resonation was now a recognizable sound for Clive. Her amusement at his expense did little to ease his weary mind.

"Your company hasn't been enjoyable," he continued. "The raise doesn't even outweigh the scar. Not even close."

An unfortunate event that could have been avoided had you listened to me in the first place. We've been through this. Get over it."

"Easy for you to say. Nobody cut open your head. But fine. Do you have other brilliant ideas?"

One, but--

"But what?"

I don't think you're ready.

Clive waited silently in nervous anticipation. Finally, he could take the silence no longer.

"What? What am I not ready for?"

Connie.

"What about her?"

You could have her if you want her. I can make her like you.

"She already likes me. We're friends."

You want more than that.

"Maybe."

Clive, don't bother trying to hide things from me. I know what you're thinking even before you do. She wants more from you, too.

"What are you talking about?"

Boy, you sure are slow at times. The bottom line is this: if you want her, she'll be yours.

"Are you kidding me? I'd do anything to get her. I'd even sell my soul."

What makes you think that's still yours to sell? Regardless, do as I say, and she'll be cradled in your arms by the end of the week. What you do with her will be up to you.

"If you do that for me, I'll be forever grateful."

Are you sure that's what you want?

"It's all I want."

What about Morgan?

"She'll be fine with it. We aren't like that."

I guess you know best, Clive. It seems like she's with Derek now, anyway.

"You're wrong about that."

Even as Clive said the words, he couldn't feel conviction behind them. Derek and Morgan had been acting weird lately, spending lots of time together. And Chester had proven to be highly knowledgeable thus far, with no motive to lie that Clive could discern. The seed of doubt had proven fruitful. With a little more care, it would undoubtedly blossom.

Like I said,
Chester whispered,
you know best.

"So what did he say?"

"He offered me baseball tickets."

"That's it? Are you serious?"

Morgan sounded shocked. She rolled around a chunk of fatty bourbon chicken with her fork, seeming much more interested in what Clive had to say than her mall Chinese food.

"Anyway, I don't want to talk about it," Clive replied, tossing his low-grade, meat-filled taco aside in disgust. "Is this all we do? Eat? No wonder I'm getting fat."

"Look at me," Morgan started in her motherly voice that let Clive know she meant business. "The man cut you open for nothing, and all he offered you was baseball tickets! You need to see a lawyer."

"I know, right! His nurse, Rosa or something, was so eager to tell me about it. I couldn't believe it, but when I went to question Landenberg, I knew right away it was true. It was like he knew why I was there before I even opened my mouth. But I guess what's done is done."