“A walk-in on a Kevin Hart movie?” he asked. “Seriously? You’re telling me I’ll have a part in the next Kevin Hart movie?”’
“That’s what he said.”
“And a guest spot on Ellen DeGeneres’ show?”
“That is correct. But I’m giving you $200,000 even, and you’re air freighting me 125,000 masks and 8 brand new ventilators.”
“I said I’d provide 6.”
“And, I’m saying you either need to provide 8, or I’ll find someone else to do business with.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he asked. “The ventilators are bringing $20,000 each on the streets.”
“If the feds catch you selling them for profit, you’ll be doing 20 years in Lompoc.”
“Well, you’re not the feds.”
“It’s something to think about though. Men in the federal prison system are being infected at an astounding rate. Have you seen the numbers?”
“Enough about prison,” he said. “I can’t do 8. We need to stick with 6.”
“Got any kids?” I asked.
“What the fuck’s that got to do with anything?”
“Just wondering if any of your kids would like to be in a Shawn Mendez music video.”
“Who the fuck’s Shawn Mendez?”
“You must not have any kids.”
“Is he popular?” he asked.
“He’s an award-winning artist. He’s got one music video that has over a billion views on YouTube.”
“A fucking billion?” he asked. “With a ‘B’?”
“Billion with a ‘B’.”
“Let me call you back.”
“Make it quick,” I warned. “In ten minutes, I’m going to someone else. Someone who knows who Shawn Mendez is.”
I hung up the phone and set it aside. When I looked up, Anna was sitting at her computer with her mouth agape. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“You got Shawn Mendez to donate a music video spot?” she asked. “Shawn Mendez? Like Seńorita Shawn Mendez? Camila Cabello Shawn Mendez?”
“That’d be him.”
“Hoe. Lee. Crap.”
“We’ll see if my Hawaiian connection wants it.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
The phone rang. I gestured to it and grinned. “Hopefully, he’s got kids.”
“If not, I guess you’ll have to offer it to someone else. Someone will snatch that deal up.”
I reached for the phone. “There is no one else.”
I answered it. “Well?”
“This shit’s for real?” he asked, seeming hesitant. “No bullshit?”
“You’ve got my personal guarantee that when this pandemic’s over, you’ll get what I’ve promised. Ask around the industry, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
“Your reputation’s sterling,” he said. “Or we wouldn’t be talking. Tell you what. You’ve got a deal.”
“Email me the wire transfer information and I’ll send you the money. This stuff better be on a plane this afternoon. I need it tomorrow. No exceptions.”
“It’ll be out today,” he said. “You have my word.”
I hung up the phone and glanced at Anna. “Well, that’s a done deal.”
“So, you’re getting 125,000 N95 masks?”
“Correct.”
“Can I use 10,000 of them as a bargaining chip?”
“For what?”
“I want a doctor from the hospital to call you and have a one-on-one conversation about your father. I think the masks might be enough of an incentive to get him to do so.”
“Not a bad idea,” I said. “Give it a try.”
She leaned over her keyboard and began typing like her fingers were on fire. Since our agreement to be in a relationship, she’d been in my home non-stop. Six weeks earlier, I would have described such an event as torturous.
Now, I couldn’t think of having it any other way.
She swept the hair away from her face a few times, and then twisted it into a bun. She went right back to typing as if nothing had happened. The corners of my mouth curled up. I couldn’t help it.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I murmured.
She glanced up, but only for a second. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“I mean at all,” I said. “I want you to stay here. I wake up, I see you. I go to bed, you’re at my side.”
She looked up. “Really?”
“Really.”
She smiled. “Sounds fun. I’m in.”
She commenced with her email campaign. I watched her for a few moments, grinning all the while.
I shook my head in disbelief. “This is nuts.”
“What?” she asked, not bothering to look up from her typing. “Getting the masks? I know, they’re impossible to find. It’s crazy you found them, huh?”
“No, not that,” I replied.
She paused. “What, then?”
I pointed at her, and then at me. “This. Us.”
She looked up. “What about it? Us? Whatever.”
“It’s just. I don’t know.” I rested my chin against my clasped hands. “It’s easy.”
“Oh.” She smiled and then went right back to typing. “Yeah, it’s good stuff, that’s for sure.”
I didn’t know if it was Anna or the disease that opened my eyes, but they were open wider than they ever had been. The clarity of my vision allowed me to see a future with her that I never would have guessed could exist.
I hoped from deep within the limits of my soul that my father could be a part of it, also.
Anna
A member of the news crew had a microphone on an aluminum pole that was six feet long. With his arm extended, the device was eight feet from where he stood. He positioned it beneath Braxton’s chin.
We were at Scripps Mercy Hospital in San Diego, in the parking lot just beside the entrance. The moving van was parked at Braxton’s side, and the news reporter had an open case of N95 masks at her feet.
Wearing his favorite Tom Ford suit, his Breitling watch, and a homemade mask, Braxton leaned forward slightly. His salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed neatly, and his hair was freshly cut by yours truly.
“I can’t say enough to accurately express my appreciation for what the medical workers are doing in an effort to combat this disease,” Braxton said into the fur-covered device. “I felt this gesture would allow them to safely continue their quest to provide care to those who are suffering.”
The bubbly brunette reporter raised a small cardboard box of masks so the second cameraman could get it in the picture. “The filter in the N95 mask is made of thousands of nonwoven fibers, each of which is smaller than a human hair,” she explained through her cotton mask. “It is that complex filtration system that provides peace of mind to the many healthcare workers who are devoted to caring for those who are struggling to survive this deadly disease.”
She lowered the box and looked at Braxton. “It’s our understanding that you father is here? In Mercy?”