Babayaga

Since then, Guizot said, he had been holed up alone in his apartment, with the nightmarish shapes of Surrealism’s asymmetrical jungles and melting timepieces looming over him as his wife’s bitter words burned inside his head, quickly driving him mad. “Then in an instant, it hit me! I saw it! She was right! She was absolutely correct! Listen to the language we pepper people with, Will, listen to how our advertisements are ripping all the meaning from the world, tearing it out! How can a sacred word like ‘adore’ mean anything between a man and a woman when we say ‘You will adore this creamy butter! You will adore this smelly fragrance! You will adore this fruity, delicious cherry cream soda!’ What is adoration when our advertisements are done with it, Will? What are we destroying with our absurd and exaggerated creations? We are monsters, and we are sucking out the marrow from the world!”

With that, Guizot collapsed into a flood of tears on the desk and, in between sobs, fired the agency. Will could hardly believe it. Guizot vowed that from that day forward he was only going to sell his product personally to retailers, one to one, with no television, radio, newspaper, or outdoor advertisements. “All I need is a handshake, the handshake of a man, eye to eye, that is how I will sell! That is all!” He pulled himself together, wiped his eyes, and, giving Will a warm embrace, excused himself. “My friend, you should get out of this racket too,” he said. “While you still have a soul.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate your sentiments, and I very sincerely hope you work things out with your wife,” Will said, sounding stiff and awkward even to himself.

“Ah, Will, you are a vampire. No, we are both vampires!” Guizot gave him a bittersweet smile. “But I have put the stake through my own heart.” Then Guizot walked off down the hallway, his head hung low.

Will watched him leave, unsure of exactly what had occurred, other than having been fired from his last and final account. Perhaps Guizot would come to his senses. If not, it did not matter. Will’s career in Paris was over. There was not much left to do.

He headed back to his office. He knew Brandon was there by now, waiting. He did not know if Brandon would be tough with him or friendly. He did not care. He was not handing over the files.

So, as he walked into the room, he was not surprised to see Brandon sitting with the two others, staring up at him as he entered. He was, however, surprised to find Oliver sitting with them.

“Oh, hullo,” Oliver said, looking up from behind Will’s desk, where he had clearly made himself comfortable. “What a nice surprise, I stopped by to pick you up for our appointment and ran into these fine fellows. Have you all met?”

Will gave a nervous smile. “Um, yes, Oliver, they’re sitting in my office.”

“Well, then of course you have!” Oliver laughed. “Turns out Caleb here hails from Cleveland. You two must have a lot to talk about. Ohio’s got the oil and the tires and you’ve got the automobiles in Detroit, so there’s a nice symbiosis there, right? But then there’s that funny football rivalry and the war you two fought against one another back in the 1830s. The Toledo War, wasn’t it? Yes, well, happy to chat all day but look, boys”—he slapped his hands together and stood up—“I must borrow Will for a bit. Your business can wait, can’t it?”

“Listen, I don’t have time to joke—” Brandon began to speak, but Oliver stopped him with a raised hand.

“I’m as serious as a saint, I won’t take no for an answer. In return I promise you a substantial round of drinks. I do need him, you understand.”

Brandon just glared as Oliver took Will’s hat off the rack, popped it on Will’s head, and swiftly guided him out the door. Will went along, a little confused by Brandon’s silence. From what he had been able to gather, everyone did Brandon’s bidding, not the other way around.

Two minutes later they were in a taxi, where Will was still trying to work out how they had gotten away. Maybe Oliver’s sudden appearance had taken Brandon by surprise, or perhaps Brandon had felt he did not have the authority to stop them, or maybe the man was a little wary of Oliver, which maybe made sense; Oliver might come across as a bit of a foolish dandy, but he did seem to know a lot of influential people.

“Well, that went well.” Oliver straightened his cuff buttons. “Glad I found you, because, you see, the jazz boys rang me up. They finally tracked down the whereabouts of Ned, and they tell me she’s not doing so hot. I promised I’d phone when we were on our way. You have any jetons on you?”

“No,” said Will.

“Well, your place is only up ahead, right? I’ll have the driver wait while we dash up and make the call.”

Remembering that Zoya was probably still in his apartment, Will tried to avoid the awkward encounter. “Oh, I bet we could find a tabac and get some phone tokens there.”