The Last Tomorrow by Ryan David Jahn Page B

them without feeling remorse, without feeling anything.
    But of course, unlike those good wholesome boys who dropped bombs on cities, she did not have the luxury of distance.
    She turned away from the window, walked to a couch, sat down. She crossed her legs at the knees and settled in, waiting for her turn to speak to Daddy.
    She was obviously called here for a job. She wondered what it was.
    4
    It was six years ago, when she turned twenty-one, that she demanded her first meeting with Daddy, and two days later she was summoned from their Shrewsbury house to his office
in lower Manhattan. She’d never before seen him in that context. He had forever been Daddy and that was how she perceived him. Daddy took her to Coney Island and bought her Foster Grant
sunglasses, cotton candy, and hotdogs from Nathan’s Famous. Daddy watched her ride the Ferris wheel and waved at her. Daddy brought home presents from his trips to Chicago and Las Vegas.
    But in his office he was no longer Daddy.
    He was the Man.
    She realized it as soon as she pushed through the door. The weather was different here. It was colder.
    ‘What is it you want, Ev?’
    ‘I want a job.’
    He nodded but for a long time said nothing. His bulbous face like over-yeasted bread dough was still and expressionless, his eyes vacant. Finally he blinked once and said, ‘A
job.’
    She nodded.
    He simply stared, and after some time she realized he wanted her to make her case. She cleared her throat and sat up nervously. She looked down at her skirt and flattened it against her legs
with the palms of her hands, pushing it down to make certain her knees were covered.
    ‘Well, see,’ she said, ‘you don’t have a son and I thought—’
    ‘I have a son.’
    ‘George is dead, Daddy.’
    He nodded once, minutely. ‘I have a dead son.’
    ‘Someday you’ll want to retire. Even if George was alive he couldn’t take over the business. He was too innocent, like Mom. I’m like you.’
    ‘And you think you can take over my business?’
    She nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
    A smile shone behind Daddy’s eyes but did not reach his wide, moist mouth.
    ‘You have no idea what happens here.’
    ‘I have some idea,’ she said. ‘I hear talk. But I know I don’t know enough. That’s why I want a job. To learn.’
    ‘If I give you a job there’s three conditions.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘First, I might ask you to do some unpleasant things. You do what I say as an employee and don’t question it. When it comes to work, I’m not your daddy. You get no special
treatment. You’re told to do a job, you do it and that’s it. You got that?’
    She nodded. ‘Of course, Daddy. Sir. Of course.’
    ‘Good. Second, you talk about business to no one on the outside. Not even your mother. Especially not your mother. You might do some things weigh on you. You might think about confessing
to Father Byrne or someone else. Don’t. You can have God in your personal life – in fact, I insist on it – but there’s no room for Him in this business. He’s too big,
He’d crowd us out. The business is what it is and it won’t be soft on you because you’re a girl. This ain’t the typing pool. It’s a man’s business and a tough
one, and you’re starting out at a disadvantage, which means you gotta be even tougher than the men you’re working with. You’re gonna have to prove yourself. You got
that?’
    She nodded.
    ‘Third, you ain’t gonna play the moll. I know you’re a woman now, I see it clear as Waterford, and the boys will too. Not one of them is to touch you. That’s part of
being respected. You want a man in your life, you find that man outside the business. None of these sons of bitches is good enough for you, anyways. Scoundrels all.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You start tomorrow.’
    ‘Thank you, Daddy. Sir.’
    5
    He wasn’t lying when he told her the business got ugly. In the years since she first began working for Daddy she has gone from