Chapter 10
Judy sat at her humongous desk and brooded.
Messages were stacked up left and right. There was work to be okay'd, ads to approve, video tapes to be viewed and about half a million other minor and major details to see to.
At that moment, she couldn't have cared less.
She drummed her fingers against the polished oak veneer absent-mindedly.
Nicki entered.
She looked extremely worried.
"Judy," she said, "we gotta talk, and I mean right now."
Judy sighed wearily. Nicki was a good kid, a hard worker and extremely ambitious.
Maybe too ambitious. Judy made a mental note to fire her at the end of the week.
"What is it?" she asked.
Nicki sat in a plush velvet chair opposite Judy's desk and crossed her shapely legs, exposing a lot of flesh.
Their one heated encounter had never led to another, Judy realized with some dismay as she looked at Nicki's sexy legs.
"Words out that the shit's gonna hit the fan any day now," Nicki said sagely.
"What are you talking about?"
"Those five dashing caballeros we so sweetly blackmailed, their heads are on the chopping block. It doesn't look good."
"So who cares if they get canned?" Judy wanted to know. "It's no skin off my nose."
"On the contrary," Nicki maintained, "it could mean a lot more than skin off your nose. We're talking about a total skinning here."
Judy looked at her, puzzled.
"I don't follow," she said.
"Look," Nicki said. "If they go, so do you. You got no more bargaining power. Old Man Dewey'll have your ass on the street in ten seconds flat." The harsh reality of the situation began to dawn slowly on Judy. She bit her lip. Nicki continued.
"It seems," she said, "that Dewey and Howe were both pissed as hell at those guys when you put them on the spot. Dewey said he wasn't running a high class whore house, something like that, and that their behavior was, in his words, 'reprehensible.' He further stated, 'if you wanna shtup, go right ahead, but just don't drag your personal garbage into work with you.' Word is, he's gonna fire the whole lot of them." "How do you know all this?" "Sappington's secretary brought him coffee this morning and didn't ask to be reimbursed," Nicki said. "That's usually a sure sign."
"How did she know what was going on?" Judy wanted to know.
"I don't know," Nicki said. "Secretaries always know what's going down even before it happens. Hell, they're the only ones with any goddamn job security around here."
"So in other words," Judy said slowly, trying to piece it all together, "my ass is on the line."
"No, not in other words," Nicki said. "Yours are perfect; they say it all. Your ass is on the line."
Whereas a week ago, she would have panicked, Judy now found her thoughts turning back to Jeffrey.
Judy picked up the phone.
"Give me JJ Buckstretcher's office," she told the operator.
There were two short rings. JJ picked up.
"Buckstretcher here," he said with the now tiresome texas drawl.
"Get in here, and now," Judy snapped at him. She'd cut him and the others off sexually the day after she'd been promoted and sensed that JJ and the others loathed her. Not that she could blame them.
JJ walked in, looking like something out of a Stephen King novel. He seemed to have aged ten years in less than a week.
He sat down next to Nicki.
"Is it true what I've been hearing?" Judy wanted to know.
"It don't look good, darlin'," JJ replied. "Shrewsbury's hittin' the Jack Daniels, Hyams is in the executive John putting two weeks' salary up his nose and the others are yanking out gray hairs by the carload. No, it don't look good at all."
"Anything we can do?" Judy asked.
JJ shrugged. "Dewey's pretty pissed, no two ways about it. The man's an animal when he's been crossed. Says he'd rather fire the whole shit-load of us than have some bimbo putting him over a barrel the way you did. If I was you, Judy darlin', I'd start lookin' for another job, and soon." Once more, despite the crisis, her thoughts returned to Jeffrey. She visualized him at the subway, half naked and proclaiming his undying love. She smiled.
"I'm glad you find this all so amusin'," JJ said. "Me, I'm high-tailin' it back to Dallas and kissin' this town off for good."
"Have a nice trip," Judy told him.
"Hey, Judy, darlin', maybe you can..."
"You can go, JJ," she said sternly.
He rose from the chair and stomped out of the office, muttering.
"Last time I trust a broad, that's for dang sure!"
He turned to the two women. "Coupla goddamn bitches, that's what you are!" he said. "Imagine, takin' pictures of me in a uncompromisin' position like that. All I can say to the both of you lezzie cunts is, never show your asses anywhere in Texas if you know what's good for ya'."
"Bye, JJ," Judy said.
"Eat the bird, bitch!" he snapped, slamming the door behind him.
"Who the hell wants to go to Texas anyway," Judy rationalized. "Nothing but tumbleweeds and shitkickers like him."
"Think they'll can me, too?" Nicki asked, worry scrawled all over her pretty face.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Judy replied.
"Don't you care what happens?" Nicki asked, hysteria slowly building in her voice.
"To be honest, no," Judy said. "Not really. Like my Dad always says, 'It's a damn sight harder to stay on the top of a greased pole than it is to climb it.'"
"Great," Nicki muttered. "I'm talking unemployment and you're talking greased poles."
Nicki glared at her.
"So what are we gonna do?" she asked.
"I dunno," Judy said. "Wanna have some lunch?"
"Lunch? At a time like this?"
"Okay, how about breakfast?" Judy asked.
"Christ!" Nicki snorted. "Judy, this is serious!"
"No, not really. Serious, maybe, but not the end of the world."
"Maybe not for you," Nicki replied, "but it is for me. If I lose this job, I lose five bills a week and my boyfriend has to quit medical school. And if can't be a doctor, what good is he? I don't wanna marry a loser."
Nicki's face contorted into a mask of bitterness, reminding Judy of Jeffrey's ex, Lydia.
"So don't marry a loser," Judy stated.
Nicki bolted from her chair.
"I don't understand your attitude at all, Judy," she said. "After all the hard work and back-breaking sex you submitted to, just to sit by idly and watch it go down the toilet in a few hours...I just don't understand."
"Have you ever been in love, Nicki? I mean really, truly, head-over-heels in love?"
"What's that got to do with..." she started to ask.
"Just answer the question."
She sat back down.
"I'm not sure," she said, her mind elsewhere.
"Maybe."
"What about Larry, your boyfriend?" Judy inquired. "Don't you love him?"
"He's alright," Nicki said, gnawing on a fingernail. "He's got good husband potential."
"But do you love him?"
"I suppose so," Nicki said. "I try not to think about it."
"Why not?"
"He's boring, in the sack I mean. We've been together since college, so I guess the magic is kind of gone..."
The intercom on her desk buzzed. Judy depressed the button.
"McGruff here."
"Mr. Dewey would like to see you in his office immediately," his nasal sounding secretary announced. "Emphasis on immediately."
"Tell the old buzzard I'm in conference," Judy instructed. "I'll get there when I'm finished."
"But Mr. Dewey always insists on punctuality, Miss McGruff, and if he says immediately, he means immediately."
"Sit on it," Judy said casually, and released the button, cutting her off.
"Well, there's the last nail in the coffin," Nicki said with finality, getting up again. "The least you could have done was ask them to spare me. I mean, it's obvious you don't give two shits about yourself, but what about me? If he fires you, he'll fire me, too."
"I'll save him the trouble," Judy replied. "Nicki, you're fired."
"I'm...what?"
"Fired. Discharged, dismissed. Your employment is hereby terminated. Canned. Sacked. Booted out. You're history, baby."
Nicki stomped out much the same way JJ had.
"I hope," she said slowly, "you burn in hell!"
"Couldn't be any worse than Philadelphia," Judy cracked.
Judy, feeling a lot like Marie Antoinette, made her way to Dewey's office to meet her fate. She felt calm, cool and collected. And oddly apathetic.
"Come in, Judith," Dewey said gently.
Judy went in and sat down.
"Would you care for a drink?" Dewey asked.
"No thank you," Judy replied. "Why don't we just get this over with."
"As you wish," Dewey said, seating himself. "I suppose you know why I've asked you here."
"Word does travel quickly here," she nodded.
"Your sponsors—Mssrs. Sappington, Buckstretcher, Hyams and the others, are no longer with the agency as of twelve noon tomorrow," Dewey said, "and I guess you know what that means."
"I guess I do," Judy said.
"I've waited long enough," he went on. "Much too long, actually." He leaned in closer to her, his eyes riveted to her cleavage. "I wanted you all for myself."
"I beg your pardon?" Judy asked incredulously.
"You heard me correctly," Dewey told her. "You're a smart girl, Judith. You don't know jack-shit about this business—your work record proves that beyond a shadow of a doubt—but you've got something better than experience. You've got a brain."
"I'm not sure I understand," Judy said.
Dewey popped a Havana cigar into his yap and chomped thoughtfully on it.
"I'm quite sure you expected to be discharged," he went on, "but that is not the case at all. Starting today, you will be my mistress and mine exclusively. No sharing. You will continue in the same capacity and reap all the rewards that go with it, financial and otherwise."
"Let me get this straight," Judy said. "I go down on you in exchange for keeping my job?"
"A rather harsh way of putting it," Dewey replied, "but yes, that's about the size of it."
"Surely," Judy said after a moment of thought, "there are better, prettier women around here you could have at the drop of a hat."
"Yes," Dewey agreed, "but none as vivacious and full of life, none like yourself."
He leaned in closer, blue cigar smoke clouding his face like a curtain.
"You've got balls, baby," he said with a lopsided grin.
"Fine," Judy said. "Then go find yourself a transvestite if that's what you're in to. As a matter of fact, there's one you'll love right down in reception. Name's Ga Ga."
With that, Judy rose from the chair and headed for the door.
Dewey clamped down on his cigar, his face livid with rage.
"Just where the hell do you think you're going, you cheap, cock sucking bitch! No one walks out on me, no one, do you hear? Just who in hell do you think..."
His words trailed off into nothingness as Judy opened the door and went out.
"...and I'll personally see to it that you never work in this business as long as you live..." Dewey thundered after her.
Without even bothering to clean out her desk, Judy grabbed her coat and left the wild and whacky world of advertising.
She never looked back.
Jeffrey Epstein grabbed a glass, squirted three shots of FOXY'S U-BET chocolate syrup into it, added a dash of milk and stuck the glass under the seltzer dispenser.
He held the glass at an angle and stirred the brew rapidly at the same time so that the concoction foamed up at the top like a beer on tap.
He gave it one last stir for good measure and then set the glass down in front of a blue haired old lady. His father would have been proud.
"Here you go, Mrs. Mishkin," he said, tossing a straw alongside the glass. "The perfect egg cream."
"Thank you, Jeffrey," Mrs. Mishkin replied. "Such a nice boy."
"You're welcome," he replied, not noticing that Judy had slipped in the door behind three pimply teenaged girls, each of whom made a beeline for the magazine rack.
Jeffrey fumed.
Every day those girls came in, and every day they read all the magazines and never bought one.
"Hey, this ain't the lending library," he snapped at them, sounding remarkably like his father had. "Either buy it or put it back. And that goes for you too, Miss."
Judy spun around and smiled.
Jeffrey's mouth dropped open.
"Hi," she said shyly.
"What...what are you doing here?"
"I thought maybe you could close up a little early today," she said with a knowing grin.
Jeffrey skillfully hopped over the counter and embraced her.
"My place?" he asked.
"Sure," she said. "Does your mother come in on Wednesdays?"
"Not to worry," he said, tearing off his chocolate stained apron. "I changed all the locks on my door."
"Smart thinking," she said, and kissed him.