Adam Ross - Ladies and Gentlemen

ALSO BY ADAM ROSS

Mr. Peanut

THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

Copyright 2011 by Adam Ross
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.aaknopf.com

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ross, Adam, 1967
Ladies and gentlemen / by Adam Ross.1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-59675-8
1. Title.
PS3618.O84515L33 2011
813.6dc22 2011006960

Jacket photograph Tom Schierlitz/Getty Images
Jacket design by Gabrielle Brooks

v3.1

To Jon Glover and Sara Hill Glover

Cruelty, like every other vice, requires no motive outside of itself; it only requires opportunity.

George Eliot

Before the interviewin one of his two appropriate suits, this one a blue pinstripeDavid Applelow, aged forty-three, passed the time forecasting: predicting first what his interviewer might look like, hoping for a beautiful woman, not merely attractive but uncommonly gorgeous, who would not only be so kind as to give him a job (that is, save his life) but also to offer herself as an immediate bonus, on the desk or the rug (if there was one) or the chair if it had no arms, her offer an act of the greatest generosity, because this kind of thing, however common to a mans fantasy, never happened, particularly not to Applelow, and if it were to, he would be surprised for the first time in years.

And then he suddenly became self-critical. It was typical, cripplingly typical, Applelow thought, for his mind to wander just before an interview, like being unserious when just the opposite was called for. And so, after a stern, internal upbraiding, a pinch to the crease in his pants, and the discovery and timely plucking of black string sticking out from the heel of his loafer, he considered the questions he might be asked when he finally did step through that door. He hoped to forge an immediate connection with the woman; as on a good first date, they would get beyond the scripted questions and move gingerly toward something more personal, such as his opinions on how things really worked or insights gleaned from his stints as a professional. And then theyd hedge toward the future. Shed talk about the job as if it were his already, about benefits, profit sharing, and salarya number exceeding even his most optimistic expectationsand thus the accident that had brought him to this office would reveal itself to have been fated.

His mind wandered again, and he felt disembodied, adrift. Ceiling high, he watched himself sitting there. Walk, he thought. A soda might give him the boost he needed, but he foresaw a devastating, midinterview belch. He was unbearably hungry. To take his mind off his appetites, he picked up the nearest magazine.

When Applelow had arrived earlier, two men were waiting in the reception area. One was younger, in his midtwenties, under-dressed in jeans and a golf shirt, with a rsum in his lap that appeared to be handwritten. He was a bundle of tics, pulling at his nose and snorting repeatedly, as if gathering up enough mucus to hawk it out. The second candidate, an enormous black man in a cheap gray suit, made a production of working on his laptop to pass the timeno easy trick, as his digits were so thick he had to type single-fingeredand then made several calls on his cell phone that Applelow was sure were fake. At one point, he turned to the receptionist, whose nameplate read Madeline, and said:

Excuse me. A matter of protocol. I have two rsums, one with a more technical focus on my specialty and the other leaning toward more personal qualifications. Is there a particular aspect youd prefer we stress?

Which told Applelow that he had no competition in the room. Madeline, slowly swiveling around in her chair, replied, Whichever youd rather we see. With a flourish, the man opened his briefcase and reviewed both rsums, then decided on one with a determined nod of the head. The younger man two chairs down from Applelow pumped his heel up and down so fiercely it shook the seat between them. Then he suddenly got up and left.

Applelow raised an eyebrow at Madeline.

Its not the first time, she said.

Gray Suit was called into the office. A few minutes later he too was headed out.

It was a chance, Applelow thought, to get some information, because the ad for this job had been mysterious. A few days ago, while searching the classifieds, hed spilled coffee on the newspaper, the liquid forking out and rejoining to cast one small section of the newsprint into dry relief. He was about to clean up his mess when the headline caught his eye.

Are you perceptive, analytical, a troubleshooter? Have excellent interpersonal skills you were never sure how to parlay into ? Auratec is a fast-growing, highly selective West Coast company seeking applicants with ability in the abstract to help us start offices in the New York area. Will train qualified candidates. SALARY AND BENEFITS. 401(K). Growth potential unlimited. Fax rsum attention Laura Samuel. 556-1583.

Have you seen a lot of people for the job already? he asked Madeline.

She turned from her computer to give him her full attention. On the wall behind her a sign said Auratec, with an Egyptian ankh in place of the t. Ms. Samuel has been seeing people constantly.

Applelow waited, smiling.

Were always growing, she continued.

Its a small office.

Our new ones being renovated at the Time Warner building.

Ah, Applelow said.

The phone burbled quietly, but she didnt answer it.

So is this a sales position?

Madeline winced sweetly. Im afraid I cant give out that information.

Of course not, Applelow thought.

Earlier that afternoon, hed withdrawn twenty-four hundred dollars from his bank accountevery cent he hadin hundred-dollar bills. In his current financial straits, he felt the need to have the cash on hand, and there was something liberating about keeping all your assets on your person. He imagined it must be how a camel feels about its hump. Afterward, he walked down Fifth Avenue to the interview feeling strangely confident, among the lunch crowds and tourists. He played catch-her-eye with beautiful women and noted his reflection in shop windows, appearing to anyone concerned like someone who had a place in the world. This heady feeling carried him to the Rockefeller rink, where he stopped to watch the children skate, watched their parents watching them, and stared at the lovers holding hands. But then his mood darkened and he leaned against the railing, crushed with despair.

It was not uncommon for Applelow to be poor. Hed made real money during only a few brief stretches. His working life had been a hodgepodge of professionsa few years as a corporate speechwriter, as an assistant to a literary editor, as a set builder for a film-production company. Not every job hed had was a dead end, but none had ever gelled into anything that could be called a career. Hed spent the last six years managing a small off-Broadway theater company called The Peanut Gallery, founded and funded by an actor named Jason Heywood Green, whose career in independent films, despite sterling reviews, had lately taken a dive. Im playing the heavy in the