Lana got the job the way anyone else would: She answered an ad. At the interview she didn’t realize that Lucius Drake was anything other than a smart, charming businessman. His suit was impeccable. His hair coiffed and oiled. His office neat and tidy. His teeth white. Later, she would understand that these perfections were just the tools of his trade.
“Well, you seem like the right kind of girl for the job,” he said.
She had the right skills. She had the right attitude.
“If you want it, it’s yours.”
Lana stood up and shook his hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m so looking forward to doing good work here.”
She meant it. She had been looking for a job ever since she had graduated from Occidental College with a degree in poetry and marketing. She had applied everywhere, but there were no jobs to be had. She had been forced to move back in with her parents, which wasn’t so awful since all of her friends had been forced to do the same.
“You’ll just have to sign this agreement,” Lucius said, pushing a contract in front of her. She lifted it up and read the beginning.
In which the party Lana Googliana agrees to perform administrative services to administer the office of Lucius Drake, Devil of the Third Order, Second Level. Such duties to include administrative with the possibility of the occasional duties of a personal assistant. This employ in no way is indentured, nor constitutes an agreement for her soul.
Lana didn’t quite understand it. So she looked up and smiled, her pen hanging in the air, hovering near the signature line, but not ready to sign.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“It means that I can’t take your soul,” he said. “Not now, not ever.”
Lana nodded and then put pen to paper. She thought he was just being a joker. She made a quick mental note that this was his kind of humor, not hers.
She signed the contract.
At first her work seemed tedious. She took appointments, picked up dry cleaning, made sure the coffee was delivered. She filed the contracts that were put into her in box during the night. She read magazines. She maintained his profiles on various social networks by updating his status and re-Tweeting interesting articles that he IM’d her from wherever he was.
Lucius is currently sweating to the sounds of the Stanford Prison Experiment.
Lucius is going down to Georgia.
Lucius is in Miss Jones.
Lucius thinks you might find this article “The Ethical Dilemma of Fat Man and Little Boy” interesting.
She read the article and was disturbed.
Lucius was never in his office. His door was always open, a warm cup of coffee on the desk when she arrived, which she removed and cleaned in the sink. But most of his work was done at night. She collected her paycheck. She was in the office alone even though she could tell that there were other workers behind the door that said PRIVATE.
She never saw them, but someone left the files on the desk in the morning. Someone left the pile of dirty dishes that she had to clean every day in the sink. Someone left the garbage bags full of pizza crusts, soda cans and empty chip bags. It couldn’t have been just Lucius.
More pointedly, she could hear a bunch of people stirring around and doing things in the next room behind the door.
Lana longed for someone to have lunch with. Or someone to gossip with. Sometimes she would press her ear against the door and listen. She was sure they were laughing in there. She was sure that they were having fun.
Lucius had told her two rules. Never open the files that were left upon the desk. Just put them away properly. And never open the door to the next room.
So she did her work, thankful that she had a job, and ignored the door.
* * *
One Saturday in summer, a few months after she procured the job, Lana was going out for drinks with the girls. They were going to flirt with boys because they were still young enough to not be totally committed. They were still young enough to think that they had lots of time in front of them to be choosy.
Lana wore a silver pencil skirt and glittery top and large hoop earrings. She drank a lot of shots. Fuzzy Navels. Blow Jobs. Slippery Nipples. Plus pitchers of beer. She didn’t care that she was mixing her alcohol. She was overcompensating to try to impress her friends.
“So what exactly do you do there?” her friend Joanne asked.
“I file, mostly,” Lana said.
“But what do you do?” Ingrid pressed.
“Just sit there,” Lana said. “Mostly. It’s a pretty easy job.”
“What kind of business is it?” Joanne asked as she ordered another round.
“Oh, I think maybe something to do with people,” Lana said. “My boss, Lucius, he’s a connector. You know, he’s got 1,000,000 friends on Twitter.”
“Wow,” Ingrid said. “I have 123.”
“I just get so lonely, sitting there in the office all day with no one to talk to,” Lana said. She sucked down the Slippery Nipple. She liked the licorice flavor of the Sambuca.
“I would die. I would just die not having anyone to talk to,” Joanne said.
“Really, there is no one?” Ingrid said.
“Well, in the next room there’s a bunch of people,” Lana admitted.
“You should invite them to go to lunch,” Joanne said.
“Yeah,” Ingrid agreed. “Put yourself out there. How are you ever going to meet a nice boy if you don’t put yourself out there?” She grabbed a young man with slightly greasy hair that passed her by and planted a kiss on him.
The girls all laughed.
“I can’t,” Lana said.
“Don’t be shy,” Ingrid said. “Shy gets you nothing.”
“It’s not that. It’s one of the rules. Never open the door that says Private.”
“What does that mean?” Joanne said.
“I don’t know,” Lana said. “But it’s a good job and I don’t want to lose it.” Although she was beginning to be a bit uncomfortable about what Lucius might be doing, Lana liked her job. She was good at what she did and it comforted her that she could do her job and didn’t actually have to do anything bad herself.
“That’s bullshit,” Ingrid said.
“That’s evil,” Joanne said.
“You should totally open the door,” Ingrid said.
“Yeah,” Joanne said. “You should see who’s back there.”
Something felt wrong about that.
“I can’t,” Lana said. “I gave him my word.”
Lana volunteered at the animal shelter. She babysat her second cousin for free. She recycled everything. She made sure that her carbon footprint was next to zero. She was the kind of gal that most people looked up to. Smart. Good looking. Responsible. Dependable. A woman of her word.
Her friends scoffed at her, and, feeling uncomfortable, Lana excused herself and weaved her way to the bathroom. The bathroom was dark, with black light and black doors. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked great in the dark mirror. She tried to put some lipstick on. She heard a sound next to her. She swung her glance over to the right.
Slumped on the ground was a girl with curly black hair. She was laughing. But it was the kind of laughing that seemed wrong. It seemed sad.
“Are you OK?” Lana asked. It was the right thing to do.
The girl looked up at her.
“Yeah, I’m 100%.”
And then she puked.
Lana went to the paper towel dispenser pulled out a bunch and threw them at the girl. Lana didn’t want to be mean; it’s just that she was so drunk that the puke was making her gag — and she had more drinking and partying to do.
Lana stumbled out of the bathroom and took a deep breath. Then she went to the bar. She ordered another round of shots for her friends. She wished she could do something for the girl, but settled instead on informing the exquisitely handsome busboy that there was a girl passed out in the bathroom.
“Thank you, Lana.”
She was so drunk that she didn’t think about the fact that the busboy knew her name or looked vaguely familiar. Her conscience was clear; she threw her hands up in the air and she whooped. Her girlfriends whooped back.
Monday morning came sooner than Lana would have liked.
There was a Post-it note stuck to a bonus check on her desk when she arrived.
Thank you for your excellent work this weekend. – L
Lana wondered if this were part of Lucius’ humor. She had done shoddy work on Friday. She had been so excited to see her friends that she had forgotten to order more staples for the big stapler. She had left dirty cups in the sink. She had killed the sweetheart plant by leaving it on the heater over the weekend. But she needed the money, so she cashed the check at lunch.
Part Two
When Lana returned, there was a man she’d never seen before sitting in her chair.
“You’re a good sort, aren’t you Lana?”
“I’m sorry?” Lana asked. She was certain that she’d locked the door. She wondered if he’d come in from the other room.
“Did you come from in there?” she asked.
The man looked over at the door and pointed at it.
“You think I came from there?” the man asked.
She nodded. After all, it was possible. Then again, he didn’t look like he worked in an office. He looked like he lunched all day and went to the theater at night. She stretched to see if Lucius was in his office. He wasn’t.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Oh, I don’t need an appointment,” the man said. He was wearing all cream colored clothes with palest of blue pinstripes on it. The blue matched his eyes.
“Well, if you’d like I can try to help you,” Lana started to say. And then she realized that something was different. Behind the private sign it was quiet.
She looked over to the door, as though trying to see through the wood.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Like what?”
“To help.”
“Oh yes. I like to help. It makes me feel good.”
“It’s important to feel good,” the man said.
“I agree, I wish I could feel good all the time.”
“Yes,” the man said.
Then he put on a hat that seemed to appear out of nowhere and placed it upon his head.
“You are in a unique position, Lana. Pay attention.”
“I think I know,” Lana said. “Nothing here is as it seems.”
His blue eyes fixed themselves on hers. She felt a twinge, right in the parts of her that were alive.
“I’ll just let myself out,” he said.
He closed the door behind him and immediately the typing and noise from the other room started up again.
She sank to the edge of the desk as though released from the hold he had on her. She fingered the folders that had been left there for her. She took them into her hands and clutched them to her chest. Her thoughts were still with those blue eyes and on the mysterious man. She felt good. Like she could do anything.
She was hot. It was always so hot in the office. That heater, no matter how hot it was outside, was on. She had tried to turn it to the coolest setting. It didn’t matter, it was always hot. The thermostat said -23º but it felt like 101º.
She fanned herself with the files. The slight breeze cooling the sweat that had formed on her upper lip. That was when it happened. A tiny scrap flew out of one of the folders and fluttered to the floor.
She dropped to hands and knees to retrieve it from where it landed under the desk. It was a cocktail napkin from the Gold Monkey. The logo looked like it was from the 50s. Written on it were words smeared from a watermark from a glass.
I’d give anything to play a gig here.
There were five files in her hand. She would have to open them to figure out which one it went into. Or she would have to throw it away.
But there was that rule that Lucius had told her was unbreakable. Never open the files. Never ever open the files. Never open the files.
She looked at the files and tried to see if she could tell by the names on the tabs that she used to file by where the napkin would go. Maybe today there was one that said Gigs or Gold Monkey. But they were just names of people.
She put the napkin in her pocket and filed the folders. Then she sat at her desk with her hands folded. Sweating in the heat, she let herself be lulled by the clacking behind the closed door.
* * *
At six o’clock, like always, she straightened out her desk. Cleared the dishes from the sink. Paused slightly in front of the locked private door. This time she put her hand on the doorknob to check it. At first she thought it might burn her. She told herself she wouldn’t open it. She would just shake the knob just see if it was really locked. It was. The incessant typing paused for a moment and there was a howl.
The howl was so pitiful and mournful that it made her sick. She resolved to never try the door again.
When she got home she poured herself a glass of wine, took the napkin out of her pocket put it on the desk next to her and Googled Gold Monkey. There were two hits for Gold Monkey and Los Angeles. There had been a jazz bar on 7th Street downtown in the fashion district that had closed in 1962 and there was a ska band that played around town.
Neither hit was helpful.
She poured herself another glass of wine.
And then another.
And then she was drunk.
Lana knew a few things. She knew that she would never figure out what file the napkin went into and she knew that she should never have taken it home. She blamed the man with the pale blue pinstripes. After all hadn’t he distracted her? Hadn’t he confused her by being there? Hadn’t he made her not do her work right away and instead fan herself uncharacteristically at the desk instead of following the usual routine? Hadn’t he made her want to check the door that said Private?
She could have left the napkin on Lucius’ desk with an apology and had him deal with it. Now it was too late. She’d already filed the files. She couldn’t explain why she had taken the napkin home. And now revealing that she had the napkin could only make things worse.
There was only one thing to do.
Get rid of the napkin.
She chucked it into the garbage can and then went back to the living room to play some shoot em up on her video game player. But she kept missing the shots. She kept thinking about the napkin.
She fished it out of the garbage and looked at it.
I would give anything to get a gig here.
Lana wondered what part of anything the person would give. ANYTHING. Did they really mean anything? Did they really mean that?
All those files.
Every one of them with a name on them.
Were they all the anything that someone would give?
She took a bowl out of the cupboard and took a match from the pantry drawer. She put the napkin in the bowl and threw the lit match in. She watched as it curled and blackened until it was nothing but ash.
Immediately Lana felt better. And tired.
She went to sleep.
She didn’t dream.
* * *
Something was different when Lana went to work the next day. Lucius was in his office and he looked haggard. His hair was slightly out of place and she swore his handsome face had some worry lines.
He had a pile of folders on his desk and he was going through them.
Lana made the coffee and answered the phone. She didn’t mention the napkin although she knew with all her heart that it was what he was looking for. He left at lunchtime grabbing his hat and umbrella on the way out without saying goodbye. Lana ate her sandwich. The mayonnaise dripped onto the desk.
She was just cleaning it up when she heard the knock.
“Come in,” Lana called out, wondering if it would be the man in the pale blue striped suit.
“I don’t know how,” the voice said.
Lana realized it was coming from behind the Private door.
She could hear the figure through door. The voice sounded sharp, and vaguely human-like. There was a scratch at the doorknob. It sounded more like claws than hands.
“Let me help you,” Lana said. She got up, got brave, smoothed her skirt and went to the door. This time she just knew that the door knob would turn.
It did, and as she pulled the door open, she wondered if she would get sucked in there and not be able to leave. Or if the monster would eat her. Or if she would faint. Lana was ready to scream. But she didn’t. Before her stood a woman. She stood there in a 1950’s cocktail dress looking bewildered. She blinked and blinked like she couldn’t believe her eyes. Her hair was in an upswept beehive hairdo. Her glasses cat like. Her nails long and red. Her make-up magnificent.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “Just like that I was unshackled. Just like that I could get up. Just like that I could think for myself. I saw the door.”
“Yes, of course,” Lana said. “Please come in.”
As the woman stepped into the office, Lana glanced into the room behind door. It was sad and sour. Dark and hunched creatures were shackled to desks. They were all using mechanical typewriters, filling out paper work and slipping them into the green file folders that she was so familiar with.
One of them looked up and Lana was certain that it looked just like her Aunt Goldie. The one who had won the lottery when Lana was a little girl. Who then went on a cruise around the world. Married a man from Argentina and died of the gout five years later. Lana only remembered the funeral, her now large aunt in an open casket made of solid gold.
Another looked fresher than the others. And just like the girl on the bathroom floor from the bar.
Lana shut the door.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lana asked.
“Whiskey,” the woman said as she checked her hair on the wall mirror.
“Oh, I’d have to go get that. I only have water or coffee here,” Lana said. Although she realized that whiskey sounded good right about then. She thought a drink sounded like an excellent idea.
“Where are we?”
“Mid-Wilshire,” Lana said.
“We could go to the Bounty,” the woman said.
Lana knew where the Bounty was. They could walk there.
“Let me just lock up,” she said.
By locking up she meant closing Lucius Drake’s door.
They got outside and the woman stumbled as though her legs were giving out under her.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
“Are you OK?”
“What kind of cars are those?”
“Hybrids,” Lana said.
The woman put her hands over her ears.
“The world is so loud,” she said and then she screamed into the air. “I love it!”
The woman was overdressed for the time of day. She was drawing stares, but she seemed to enjoy it. She pulled Lana along. At the Bounty she stopped, turned and stared across the street.
“What happened to the Ambassador?” she said.
“They tore that down,” Lana said.
“Be honest,” the woman said. “I’ve been gone a really long time.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Lana said. Nor did she want to. The truth was troubling her.
Once inside, they sat at the bar and ordered two whiskeys. Neat. They shot them down in a gulp and then ordered another round.
“What’s your name?” Lana asked.
“Rita Devine,” the woman said.
“What a name,” Lana said.
“Well, it’s my stage name. My real name is Judith Goldberg.”
“What a name,” Lana said again, only this time sadder.
“Well, I’m going to go,” Rita said. “Thanks for saving me.”
Rita got up. Then she sat back down.
“What’s wrong?” Lana said.
“I have nowhere to go,” Rita said.
“There must be somewhere,” Lana said. “Maybe one of your friends at the office will be able to help you.”
Lana knew it was a dumb thing to say, but what else could she say.
“I’m never going back there,” Rita said. “That’s for sure.”
“What is that place?” Lana asked.
“Can you imagine typing up forms for eternity? I did it for fifty odd years and it sucked. Why? So I could play a gig at the Gold Monkey? I should have asked for fame, or money, or love.”
Lana bit her nail. It sounded like hell.
“Drunk and on a napkin he got me. What a sucker I was. If I had been really greedy and awful, I could have gone to the better level. A high class place. What wouldn’t I give for that?”
Rita began gorging herself on the free peanuts.
“A better hell?”
“Can I buy you ladies a drink? Something to eat?”
It was the man in the cream suit with the pale blue pinstripes. Rita swiveled on her chair and he extended his hand out to her. As she took it, she smiled, and a blue light surrounded her. Rita smiled and sighed. And then she melted into nothing.
Lana turned to ask the man questions. To grill him on what was going on. But the only thing she saw were his eyes as he disappeared along with Rita. She had that feeling bubble up again inside of her, like something true would come up and out through her mouth and follow him wherever he was going. But he was gone.
No one else in the bar seemed to notice that anything had happened. Lana knew what the man in the blue pinstripes was. An angel. He was a sign that she could not ignore.
“I work for the devil,” she said. It felt good to say it out loud.
The others at the bar laughed. The guy next to her nodded in agreement.
“Oh, me too. Me too. My boss is a real rat.”
She realized what Lucius was. He was a lower kind of Devil, an assistant to the assistant of a real son of a bitch, but it didn’t matter, he was still as evil as evil could be.
Part Three
On Monday, Lana went into work with a good plan. She ignored the files on the desk. She purposefully did not make the coffee. She updated Lucius’ status.
Lucius is on a bender.
She suspected that the doorknob would be locked. She tried it. It didn’t budge. She went to the hall and used her building key to open the emergency fire hose reel where she knew there was an ax. Then she went to the door and smashed right through the word Private.
Two thousand chained souls looked up from their desks.
She stuck her hand through the broken wood and let herself in.
The poor souls stopped their work and began howling. Lana had a rush of adrenaline and she yelled a rallying speech about freedom and goodness.
“How many people in this room have done one good thing in their lives?”
There were souls there from all walks of life. From all periods of time. No one stirred.
“Everyone in this room has done some good in their lives! Picked up a little girl from school. Or taught someone to read. Fought for their country. Let someone go first at a stop sign.”
They all began to nod in an agreement. They lifted their heads and looked at her with hope.
“Why are the sum of all these small good things erased so quickly? Why would those good things bring you here? Because you want a better life? Asked for one measly thing? But you cannot do good if you are shackled. I have seen the way! Desire goodness, follow goodness, do good deeds and freedom is yours! Freedom to do good will set you free!”
She went to the souls nearest her and she smashed their chains with her ax. Those freed turned to help the others and Lana’s heart was warmed by the generosity of the damned to help.
But while they could wander around the room, freely, not one of them could step through the broken door.
Lana suspected that they could not be free unless their files were disposed of. She dragged the shredder from her office into the room and began shredding the folders.
“It’s going too slowly,” someone shouted.
“They’ll find us out,” someone else wailed.
“We won’t be able to get out!” another cried.
Fire. Fire was the answer.
“Start a bonfire!” Lana directed. The freed souls broke the chairs and desks and set them ablaze. They fed the files and wood into the flame. Papers and ash drifted everywhere. The sickly rheuminess of everyone’s faces melted as their file was destroyed. Each person freed, sang. Men grabbed men and women and women grabbed women and men and kissed. People spun each other into impromptu waltzes. The sounds turned from defeated moans to gregarious laughter. And when it was their turn, they left through the front door in an orgy of happiness.
She had let them out upon the world, free.
Lana wiped her brow. She had done well. She had given them all a second chance. She felt a mad rush of pure joy. She was only sad that she wouldn’t be able to do it again.
“My God, woman! What have you done?”
Lana turned toward Lucius.
“I saved them,” she said. She would be rewarded for her actions.
“You think you saved them?” Lucius asked. “You think you saved their souls?”
“I know I did,” Lana said.
Lucius laughed.
“You damned them all,” he said.
“I freed them,” Lana said.
“Get out of my office,” Lucius said. “I don’t deal with your kind.”
Lana didn’t move. Lucius got a look on his face that was frightening. His jaw set, his chest puffed out. He came towards her and he pushed her out the door so hard that she fell on her ass.
She got up and dusted herself off. She fixed her hair as she rode the elevator down to the main floor. She passed by the security desk when she heard her name being called.
“Lana Googliana?”
“Yes.”
“Follow me, please,” the guard said.
She resisted. But the guards were strong. They grabbed her and took her by the elbow down a long hallway.
She was brought into a room where a man sat in chair.
“I have a contract,” she said. “It says my soul is not for grabs.”
“Oh, we know,” the man said. His smile was lovely.
The door opened behind her and Lana turned.
“Thank goodness. It’s you,” she said to the man in the cream pinstriped suit and the blue eyes. She knew that he was her salvation. He would help her get out of this mess.
She immediately felt better, calmer, about her situation. “You’re here to save me.”
He handed her an envelope.
“Let me be the first to congratulate you,” the man in the pinstriped cream suit said.
He shook her hand.
“No one as good as you has come along in centuries,” the man at the desk said.
Lana opened the letter. In it there was a piece of paper on an elaborate letterhead.
For all your good work and excellent numbers on souls collected, you have been promoted to Devil of the first degree.
“I don’t understand,” Lana said. She wondered where the blue light to take her away was. Where her pat on the back was for freeing all those poor souls. And then she realized what Lucius had meant. She hadn’t saved them. She damned them for good.
“This is a mistake,” Lana said. “I meant to help them.”
“Some would say you did,” the other man said.
“I would,” the man in the pinstriped cream suit said.
“But how could damning them feel so good?” Lana asked.
“Like I told you,” the man in the cream suit said. “The Devil is in the details.”
