Read Online Forsaken by James David Jordan - Free Book Online

tapped him on the shoulder. “You work for the Mid America Center?”
    “No. O’Reilly’s Interior Landscape.” His breath smelled of onions and cigarettes. I turned my head away. He didn’t seem to notice.
    I had to force myself to look back at him. “Did O’Reilly’s provide all of the plants?”
    Fortunately for my nostrils, he was not about to stop for me. He dragged the cart across the stage, and I trotted after him. A trail of dirt clumps marked the cart’s path like a brown vapor trail. “Far as I know.” He stopped, pulled on a pair of leather garden gloves, and wrestled one of the palms onto the stage.
    “Is your boss Mr. O’Reilly?”
    “Mrs. O’Reilly. Dad’s been gone for ten years.”
    “I’m sorry.” I had no idea whether I should be sorry, because I had no idea why Mr. O’Reilly was gone, but I supposed it didn’t matter for my purposes. “So Mrs. O’Reilly is your mother?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is she here?”
    He chuckled. “The nursing home doesn’t let her deliver plants.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He looked up at me and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask whether “I’m sorry” was going to be my response to everything he said. He pulled the trowel out of his pocket, bent over, and dug into the potted palm. “It’s okay,” he said over his shoulder. “She’s still sharp as a tack. Just can’t get around anymore.” The conversation smelled better with his face over the planter.
    “So are you in charge?”
    He laughed. “Believe me, she’s in charge. I’m responsible for important deliveries, that’s all. I’m a CPA with an accounting firm in the Loop. I just do this to help Mom out. She doesn’t trust the regular guys with this kind of thing. Simon Mason is big, you know. Are you a reporter or something?”
    “I’m with the Mason staff. Where did all of these plants come from?”
    “Our greenhouse in Elmwood Park. I’ve got the delivery ticket if you want to see it. Are we in some sort of trouble?”
    “Not at all. Were you with the plants in the truck from the greenhouse?”
    “I drove the truck. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got to get finished here. This thing is starting in thirty minutes. There must be ten thousand people out there already.” He pointed at the giant video screen that blocked the stage from the auditorium seats. For the first time, I noticed the low rumble of the entering crowd.
    “How many more plants are you bringing out here?”
    “These two are the last ones. Are you security?”
    I threw up my hands. “You got me.”
    He looked me over. “Wow, security in our building doesn’t look like you.”
    “Thanks.” I thought about saying the polite thing: You’re not so bad yourself. His breath and oily hair simply made it impossible. “How long has O’Reilly’s been in business?”
    “Forty years, last November.” He rolled the other palm off the cart and stood it up.
    “Good enough. Thank you for answering my questions.”
    “You’re welcome.” He slid a hand through his hair and then wiped it on the pocket of his khakis, leaving a greasy splotch. “What are you doing after the show?”
    “Sorry, I’ve got a boyfriend.” That was entirely untrue. “By the way, they tell me it’s not a show. It’s a celebration. They’re very particular about that.”
    He shrugged and turned his back, then stuck a finger into the soil around one of the pots. He grabbed a plastic watering can from the cart, leaned over, and poured water around the base of the palm. As far as hewas concerned, I was no longer there. I tapped my foot on the floor and watched him work. This guy was gross, but I would have liked to think that I could hold his attention for more than thirty seconds. I know exactly how ridiculous that sounds, but it’s the way I think sometimes.
    I turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. “One more thing: Do you know who’s in charge of the sound system?”
    “No idea.” He didn’t even look up. I was