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mechanization these days.”
    I spied the ventilation duct grating right behind Plotnick’s head. “Mr. Plotnick, have you been listening in on us?”
    The landlord brandished his meat fork defensively. “It’s my fault you gentlemen are yelling and screaming all the time? You want privacy? Try talking like a normal person.” He waddled over to our booth, and I tried to picture him trussed up like a roast pig, with an apple in his mouth. “Okay, what’ll it be? Mr. Peach, you first, since you’re paying the bills from now on. And by the way, congratulations on your promotion.”
    Don was in a nasty mood. “When are you going to fix that stair? I almost killed myself this morning!”
    â€œLook who’s talking,” said Plotnick righteously. “I asked you to come smash up my building? Watch where you’re going!” He turned to Ferguson. “So, Mr. Peach — how much money do you make?”
    I slammed my hand down on the tabletop. “Mr. Plotnick, you don’t ask a guy something like that!”
    The landlord shrugged. “A person is interested. Six figures maybe?”
    The Peach laughed. “They bumped me up fifty bucks a week.”
    Plotnick was insulted on Ferguson’s behalf. “If you hold yourself cheap, Mr. Peach, you get treated like a bargain.”
    â€œI’m not exactly a career man,” Ferguson. pointed out. “I’m only going to be there for a couple of months.”
    â€œAll the more reason why you should grab fast!” said Donald Trump in a greasy apron. “You let me talk to your thief of a boss, and soon you’ll be on Easy Street. I only charge twenty percent.”
    â€œNo, thank you.”
    â€œBut you’ll be rich! You’ll live in a penthouse!” I pictured the third floor. “Why? Is the Ugly Man moving out?”
    Plotnick ignored my wisecrack. “Don’t think only of yourself, Mr. Peach. Remember, you’ve got two unemployed bums to support.”
    I looked over at the other bum. We’d have to find work — and fast!
    * * *
    At Plastics Unlimited, Ferguson got paid, and Don and I got paid off. We stopped at the bank on Bathurst and put most of the money into a checking account on our three signatures. Our convenience cards would be sent in the mail, but the teller presented us with a checkbook on the spot. None of us had ever written checks before. We were psyched.
    As we left the bank, Don couldn’t take his eyes off our passbook. “We’ve got over a thousand dollars.” He grinned. “A thou. A grand.”
    â€œThe rent’s coming up tomorrow,” the Peach pointed out.
    â€œSix hundred and eighty-five bucks,” Don shrugged. “We’re rich. Let’s celebrate.”
    Before we knew it, he’d hailed a taxi, and we were headed against the traffic downtown. “Where are we going?” I asked.
    â€œTonight is the first night of the rest of our lives as swinging city guys!” declared Mr. Wonderful grandly.
    â€œWell — uh — I was thinking of checking to see if there was any word on the car —”
    â€œYou need to forget the car for one night,” advised Don. “We’re going to drown ourselves in loud music, colored lights, and hot babes.”
    Ferguson laughed in his face. “Babes?”
    â€œShut up, Peachfuzz,” snapped Don. “What do you know about women — besides the fact that they all agree what a geek you are? Come on. It’s Friday night! Let’s get some action. Jason, how long’s it been since you broke up with old what’s-her-face?”
    I reddened. Amy Loezer, my one and only girlfriend, had ditched me in February. That was just after she made me throw away my
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue because it exploited women. One day I opened her locker, and there was my brother Joe, his muscles oiled, smiling out at