The Irresistible Mickey Holly

Entry 5: Tell me no lies

Nothing comes free in this world. What people want in exchange for information depends solely on the person. Money was easy. Money is universally desired. Eddie Maxwell, voted Atlas Academy's #1 janitor ten years in a row, was not so easily bribed. The man was frugal. Stored money in many piggy banks and had no need for my crumbled five bucks at the bottom of my book bag.

His needs always changed. Last time, he wanted a robe. Soft, but not thick. He didn't want a pattern and laughed when I sarcastically offered to have it monogrammed for him. The first time I required something of him, he wanted a fruit basket. The list of demands never fell into place and built something that made sense. The biggest head-scratcher was when he required only one left red boot. When I inquired what I should do with the right foot, he said that wasn't his problem. Jacks said he was just messing with me.

In front of him again, I was beginning to think Jacks was right.

"Do you have it?" he asked, leaning against the lunchroom wall. He wasn't looking at me, pretending to inspect the other janitors' work cleaning the floors and waxing the tables. It smelled like a ghastly amount of lemon fresh and peroxide. I was sure Eddie just enjoyed pretending he was in a spy novel.

"Of course," I said, only slightly insulted. He should already know, I am always prepared. I reached into my bag and paused, peering at him "and I don't even want to know why you want this."

I revealed a pack of fake mustaches to a man with a thick salt and pepper handlebar mustache with the curls on the end and everything. He was aging like fine wine with deep laugh lines. His laughter came from deep within his chest, low and echoing. He plucked them, examining his prize. "That's great. Nicely done, Mr. Turney, these will work perfectly. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I want the keys to the basement," I said. There was no beating around the bush for me. I treated everything like a wish from a genie. I had to be specific in order to avoid getting a nasty trick played on me.

Eddie snorted. "Wanna ask me for somethin' else?"

I narrowed my brow. "No."

"Well, that's a toughy, Mr. Turney. Seeing as there's no basement at all."

"But..." My brain halted like I ran face-first into a wall. "That can't be."

"And yet," Eddie shrugged. "Here we are. On the ground floor. The lowest there is."

"But what about the boiler room?"

"Behind the gym."

"Not under?"

Eddie shook his head. He slid his pack of mustaches inside his blue jumpsuit and grabbed his utility cart. Behind all the bottles of questionable liquids, I swore I spotted a bottle of whiskey with a skull top. He said as his bellow appeared from every corner of the empty lunchroom. "But by all means, go out there and start digging a hole until you hit a completed basement. Call me if you find an entertainment center, kay? We'll host a Barney screening for you little kiddies."

So, I ended that encounter, one pack of mustaches less and stuck on the ground.

#

The lack of productivity was too much and I couldn't let the rest of my day be wasted. I plucked Joseph from track practice whether he liked it or not. "Can I at least jump in the shower?" He asked, his skin still flushed from running. He explained, grabbing his stuff from his gym locker. "I'm meeting Catherine later-"

"What does she care? You smelling a little sour wouldn't exactly blow her mind you know?" I felt painfully overdressed, the only one in full uniform while the Neanderthals around me were half-dressed and losing more clothes by the second. Billows of steam poured from the neighboring shower room. Its dewy nature tricked my skin into thinking it was sweaty. Someone was singing every other line from Pour Some Sugar on Me.