The Dislocated Man, Part One by Tim Greaton, Larry Donnell Page A

earlier at the office, Derrick Branson patted his gigantic stomach. “I’m going to start spending some time at the gym. That’s my big resolution. You always keep fit, Jack. What’s your secret?”
    Jack wanted to suggest the obese man use his mouth for something other than a funnel , but he wasn’t quite that drunk. Besides, at forty-two he was too old to be following the angry mail clerk out the door. These days, financial companies had no problem letting experienced brokers go only to replace them with new recruits willing to work longer hours for less pay. T. Boonsen Equities was no exception. Over the last ten years , average salaries had plummeted as youth among the staff increased.
    God, I miss the nineties.
    “A little basketball and jogging on the weekends , ” Jack offered, which was mostly true.
    He sat and admired Hannah from across the party floor. Though not quite as slim as some of the young trophy wives roaming the room, she was blond and stunning for a woman in her mid-forties. Hannah caught him looking and gave her best coquettish smile, a promise of wanton things to come. By the time they got home the boys would be asleep. Jack smiled because even if sleep won out over intimacy, he would be cuddling with a woman he still desired after twenty-two years of marriage. She and their two sons were everything. They made even the barely tolerable parts of his life somehow better.
    “So I’m thinking of turning a couple of the newbies over to you, Jack. You’d make a helluva team leader , ” Derrick offered.
    Translation: I want you to train your replacements.
    Jack reluctantly pulled his gaze from his wife’s shapely calves and faced Derrick’s intent gaze and fiery red nose. Why was it that people with authority felt the need to wield it even after hours? He drained the last of his scotch.
    “I can’t train anyone right now, Derrick. I’m the only agent old man Van Hausen will deal with, and the partners specifically asked me to get his portfolio back on track this month.” He didn’t bother to add that he had finished work on that account earlier in the week.
    “I never actually spoke with Van Hausen , ” Derrick said. “What’s he like? Do you think you could introduce me?”
    “Hi Jack, Derrick.” Like the goddess she was, his wife had come over to save him.
    “Hello , Hannah , ” Derrick said . “You look lovely as always.” The way the heavy man’s eyes traveled up and down her sleek red dress and paused at her chest suggested he meant it.
    So much for who’s got the most power.
    “Hi, Hon , ” Jack said pulling her down for a kiss.
    “I came over to take my husband away for the next slow dance.”
    “He’s a lucky man , ” Derrick said, “but it’s okay because the buffet has been crying out my name for a while now.”
    Just then, the elf returned and handed the men their drinks from a full tray. Derrick fell silent because, of course, the waiter had gotten their orders right. Jack kicked his double scotch back in one gulp.
    “I thought you wanted to walk out of here?” Hannah said, her tolerance reaching its limit. In the previous five years, Jack had fought two bouts of depression, the last one requiring him to join a program for six months. She had already made it clear, medication was one thing , but she would not live with a drunk.
    “Last one , ” Jack promised, even though he was already thirsting for his fifth—or was it his sixth?
    “On that note….” Derrick heav ed his considerable frame to his feet and shuffl ed toward the lavish buffet.
    “Like an emphysema patient to a smoke shop , ” Jack said.
    “Really ? ” Hannah lifted his empty glass. “What’s your analogy?”
    “An apologetic puppy wagging his tail?” Jack suggested.
    “Okay, that one was cute. But I’m serious. Our kids aren’t growing up with a lush for a role model.”
    He pulled her down onto his lap. It amazed him how it still felt like a first date with her. He nuzzled her