FIRST DAY AT WORK
The setting: A fancy bank building in downtown Anywhere,
People in smart, dapper business suits stream into the bank building. Most know that the security guard for the past 10 years has retired. But nobody bothers to say hi to the new guy until ...
JOHN
John Wilson, 40, stops at the security desk, surveys the new guard--slightly plump, gray-haired. Would be easy to beat up in a fight but still better than fat old Walt had been.
"You the new guy?"
"Yep."
"How's Walt doing?"
The guard shrugs. "Didn't know him."
"Well, welcome to the bank."
"Thanks." The guard smiles, exposing stained, old-man teeth. "Today's a happy day for me, actually."
"Yeah?"
"My twin girls turned 18 right at
"18, huh."
The guard gets his wallet out of his pants pocket.
John stifles a groan.
This is why you don't say hi to the new guy. He makes you late for work.
The guard offers John a picture. John takes it.
Woo baby.
18.
A good age. Primo age.
This guard has identical, blond knockout twin daughters. Tight red T-shirts, great racks, dangerous curves.
Tan.
Ten years ago, John Wilson could've nailed a girl like them. Now ... well, he isn't much better looking than the guard.
John hands the photo back. "Very pretty. You must be proud."
The guard beams. "They're great girls. Have you got kids yourself?"
"Nah. I like the single life."
Truth is, John has not liked being single for many years, but he is not about to tell this to some lowly security schlub.
"I've been with
John takes it--woo baby again.
This woman must be 50 years old, but she is just as beautiful as her daughters.
What a rack.
Lucky security guard.
John realizes he is staring and hastily hands the picture back. "I need to get up to work."
"Of course. Sorry. See you later."
"Yeah. Have a good first day." John heads for the bank of elevators.
Gets into an elevator with a whole crowd of people. They stink--too much perfume, cologne, body spray.
John wonders what the guard's wife and daughters smell like.
Those twins… wow. What if they kissed each other, with tongue and they got naked really hot and heavy, and…
And the mom walked in? Joined in?
Whoa.
When John Wilson gets off on his floor, he is smiling broadly, even as a kernel of guilt gnaws at him, calling him perv perv perv. Twin sisters and their mother. You can't get any better than that.
MARY
Mary says hello to the security guard a few minutes after John goes up. The guard seems nice enough, maybe a little bland. He isn't wearing a name badge, but neither did fat old Walt.
The security guard smiles, says hello back.
"Welcome," Mary says. She notices a framed photo on the guard's little desk.
View from what seems like the top of the world.
"That's from a hike I took last month at the peaks," the guard supplies.
"It's beautiful." Mary tries not to feel too jealous. "You hike a lot?"
"Oh, yes. With the wife and daughters. All the time."
Mary is 35 years old. She is overweight and not very attractive. She's tried so hard all her life to get thin, but when it comes right down to it, she'd rather be in front of the TV, munching on Cheetos. Gallivanting outside is not for her.
As a result, she does not have many beautiful pictures.
Or much of a life.
The guard shows Mary photos of his gorgeous, statuesque wife and perfect daughters.
Lucky man, this lowly security guard.
When Mary gets to her floor, she detours to the vending machines and buys some potato chips.
Time to wallow in depression again.
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher is a handsome, cocky young buck.
25 years old, thinks he knows it all.
Blond hair, blue eyes, six-pack abs.
He started working at the bank one year ago exactly.
He strides into the lobby, full of purpose, ready to attack the start of a new work week.
He is used to Walt greeting him with a hello.
No Walt. It's some pudgy new dude instead.
Right, Walt retired.
The guard's writing on paper or something, doesn't notice Christopher.
Christopher's seen him before, though.
Somewhere.
When?
He goes to the elevators and struggles to remember.
Can't.
Maybe the guard's just one of those average Joes you see in lots of places.
No. Damn it, Christopher has seen the guard before.
Christopher, deep in thought, gets off on his floor.
It's going to bother him all day if he doesn't figure it out.
Fine.
He goes to his desk, tosses his briefcase aside, shrugs out of his suit jacket.
Trots back down the five flights of stairs, says "Hey" to the guard.
The guard smiles, says "Hey" back.
Then, with a thud in his chest, Christopher remembers where he has seen the guard before.
The picture.
That old picture. The guard has changed, that is for sure. He's gotten pudgy. He's aged.
But the nose… no denying it.
The security guard is Christopher's father, the man who abandoned his mother and him when Christopher was just a baby.
Christopher swallows, scurries back upstairs.
His long-lost father, James Ellington.
A lowly, unattractive security guard.
Didn't even recognize Christopher.
The bastard.
JOHN
At
The guard's there at
"Your kids," he asks. "What are their names?"
"Alyssa and Marie."
"And your wife?"
"Liza."
"Nice family. Really. You're lucky."
The guard beams. "You'll find the right woman someday, don't worry."
"What are the twins doing for their birthday?"
"Partying with their friends. Isn't that what all the kids do nowadays?"
John grins. He is going to the gym after work, for the first time in weeks.
Time to get back in shape. He wants those girls, that wife.
MARY
When Mary returns from her lunch break, the guard shows her more pictures he took from various hikes.
The guard has been ALL over.
Literally.
The
Where has fat lazy old Mary been?
The grocery store.
McDonald's.
Burger King.
Pizza Hut.
She goes up to her office, sniffles.
Gets more potato chips.
She regrets ever saying hello to the security guard. She won't talk to him again.
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher fumes all morning. His father! His very own father. How could the man not recognize him?
Christopher is distracted, doesn't get much work done. Breaks for lunch late, at
Still no recognition.
Christopher grabs a burger, some fries.
He ought to call his mother.
Tell her, "I found him, Ma. The dirty old bastard. I found him."
No. He'll spare her that pain. His ma is doing well. Remarried, to a dream man.
Christopher won't call her.
But he can't let his biological father get away with what he did to him and his ma.
Dear old dad should be knocking off work at 5.
Christopher will follow him home.
JOHN
John finishes work at 5 and heads to the gym. He jumps on the treadmill. Sees plenty of fine chicks. Plenty of ugly lardasses, too.
Tomorrow he will ask the guard (subtly, of course) if he, his wife and daughters belong to a fitness club.
Perhaps something like, "I'm not happy with the gym I go to. You belong to one? What do you recommend?"
That'll do very well.
John finishes with the treadmill, decides he'll lift some weights.
Then he sees her.
The wife.
The guard's wife!
She is even more beautiful than in the picture.
And she is making eyes at him, at John!
John puffs his chest out. He still has some charm after all, some swagger.
He goes over to the wife. She isn't wearing her wedding ring.
Her name is Carrie, which isn't what the guard said it was.
Whatever. John does not care if she's lying--he just wants to nail her.
They flirt, agree to meet for dinner later that week.
When John gets home, he is about to burst.
That poor old security guard. His wife runs around on him!
John isn't complaining, though. No sir.
MARY
Mary goes to McDonald's after work, gets supersize everything.
She hates that security guard. Really hates, hates him.
No, she doesn't hate him. She's jealous.
Fat, ugly old Mary.
She munches on her hamburger. The restaurant is nearly empty, but at a nearby table are two young women. Identical twins, blond hair, blue eyes, tan, the whole shebang.
Lucky bitches.
They are everything Mary always wanted to be but never could be.
She has recognized them as the security guard's children and hates him (and them) even more.
Right when Mary is about to leave, one of the girls comes over to her. "I really love your necklace," the girl says.
"Really?"
"Yes. Ohmigod. I just love pearl."
Mary can't help but smile. "I've always had good taste in jewelry," she admits modestly.
"Your earrings! Wow. I love them too. Hey, my sister and I were about to go shopping. Would you like to come with us?"
Mary cannot reply for a moment. She is supposed to hate this girl and her sister.
But.
But.
"Sure," Mary chirps. "Lead the way."
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher follows the guard to a dumpy apartment building in a gray part of town. At least his father, good old James Ellington, isn't living some carefree life.
The guard goes inside the building, and Christopher scowls in his car for some time.
A long time.
He's got to call his mom. Get her permission to… to what? Confront his father? Beat the old man up?
Christopher calls, but no one's home.
He drives to his own house, grabs the picture of his father just to make sure.
Yes. The guard is his father.
Christopher takes the picture back with him to the guard's apartment.
Damn it.
He can't wait any longer. He calls his mother again, leaves a message on the machine.
Then he gets out of his car. Time for a touching, fist-filled reunion.
THE SECURITY GUARD
The security guard, when he gets home, lays his wallet on the kitchen counter. He makes himself a bologna sandwich. He sits in front of the TV.
It's been a pretty good first day at work. Lots of nice people. Bit boring, but oh well. That's what happens when you're a security guard.
After the bologna sandwich is gone, the security guard gets his wallet. Glances through the pictures.
Ahhh.
If only.
The security guard has no family. He made Liza, Alyssa and Marie up.
He does not hike, either.
The hike photos he printed from the Internet with his good high-quality printer. The photos of his "wife" and "daughters" he snapped at a park a few weeks ago.
He got so tired at his old job of people looking at him in that sad way.
Lonely old man.
This new job is better, so much better.
A knock sounds on the door.
The guard frowns. No one ever visits. He goes to the door, peeks through the peephole. It's a young man, and he seems angry. Huffy and pacing.
Kinda looks familiar, too.
Against his better judgment, the guard undoes the chain latch and the door lock.
Opens the door.
The guard remembers who the man is now. One of the bankers from the new job.
"I can't believe you didn't even recognize me," the young man hisses. "It's me, Christopher. Your son! Your Christopher. Remember me, huh? And my ma?
The guard swallows. He has never been married. Never dated anyone named
Thank goodness for prostitutes.
"I'm sorry," the guard whispers, hoping the young man will not hit him. "I've never been married."
Christopher shoves a photo in the guard's face. "Tell me this isn't you, good old James Ellington!"
"My name's not James Ellington, and that's not me."
A ring pierces the air, and Christopher snaps a cellphone out of his pocket. Barks into it: "Yeah?" He stiffens. "Ma? Ma, I'm--what? What? What?"
He listens for a long time, clicks the phone shut. All fight leaves him.
"Sorry," he says to the guard. "I'll go now."
"What happened?"
A muscle clenches along Christopher's jaw. "Ma just said she doesn't know who my father is. She snapped a picture of some random guy one day."
The security guard reaches for the picture, studies it carefully. "That could be me," he admits. The irony of the matter does not escape him.
Christopher is about to cry. "Why did Ma have to make up that story?"
"Who knows," the security guard murmurs. Then: "Do you want to come in?"
Christopher sniffles. "I don't want to bother you."
"No bother. No one's here but me. And you."
Christopher looks around a long moment. "Yeah. Yeah, all right. I'll come in."
THE END
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