Diminished Sevenths

By Will Schleif

Walt wants to die, Teri wants cash, Ted wants Teri, Lisa wants Ted, Lionel wants a promotion and Frank just wants to wet his beak. In this conflicted sojourn through sexual dysfunction, addiction, blackmail and murder even those who get what they want find it comes in a twisted package.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Schleif
• Release date: Jul 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463337271

Will Schleif

Will Schleif is an ex-lawyer who spends his time bouncing back and forth between New York and the Pacific Northwest, making less money, but having more fun.

Book preview

Chapter One

The first time Ted watched her shoot up, he was curious.

What’s it do?

Teri leaned her head back on the sofa, closed her eyes and exhaled softly. Everything.

What do you mean, everything?

Everything.

Ted studied the large rose tat that covered her bare shoulder. Does it make you think differently? Like, does it make you feel more, you know, creative?

As a musician, he had always wondered why the drug held such a big draw.

It lets me not think at all.

He turned back to his keyboard and quietly fooled around with an old Monk tune, but he kept wondering about the drug.

"Do you think it would help me?’

She lifted her head slightly and opened her eyes. She studied him for a couple of seconds.

No.

She went back to leaning her head against the top of the sofa.

He watched across the keyboard, following the curve of her neck down along her thin frame, noting the casual shape of her small breasts. He became aroused, at least as aroused as he normally got. He held the view until she stirred.

You got any money? she asked.

Ted didn’t reply at first.

I have to get home and, on the way, I need to pick up something for the kids to eat, she expanded.

Prompted properly, Ted slipped away from his contact with the keyboard and inventoried his pockets. Teri kept talking.

Besides, Frank’s due back this afternoon. It would be best for me if I was there when he shows up.

Ted came up with a small stash of bills that, when he flipped through them, totaled twenty-seven dollars. He handed twenty-two to her.

Teri looked at the bills, disappointed. Is this it?

Yup. Ted shrugged, embarrassed it wasn’t more.

Teri sighed and stuffed the cash into her bra alongside one of those small breasts. I guess I can make this work.

Ted imagined the texture of her skin as he watched. Once the bills were deposited, he began to softly work the keyboard again.

Teri stood up from the couch and started for the door. Part way across the room she paused. Hey, have you got anything on tomorrow morning?

Not before my lunch gig at Ernie’s. I don’t have to be there until 11:30 or so.

Can you run us over to Eckerd’s? I have to get Julia’s prescription re-filled.

Sure.

Ted didn’t look up until she was through the door. Once she was gone the music stopped and his hands found their way to his lap. He didn’t like it when she left.

Teri survived. Every day was an exercise in getting by. The only thing that could make her look as far ahead as tomorrow was something to do with the girls. Everything else was just figuring out how to get through the next couple of hours.

She lived nap to nap, meal to meal, fix to fix. She drew resources from any source available; public assistance, health clinics, charitable agencies, the men around her. She did her best to give the girls a chance, getting them into Head Start, school meal programs and the like. Susanna was doing pretty well. She was smart and avidly soaked up the opportunities to learn that came her way. But Julia, the little one, struggled. She was pretty much always sick and listless. Teri worried about Julia as much as Teri was able.

Frank wasn’t around all that much. It wasn’t just that he kept his own place, but that he worked a lot of jobs out of town. Even though it was pretty clear Julia was his, he didn’t seem to care. The girls were a bother to him, a fact of life like the cold or the snow, that had to be worked around. He accepted that they were there. That they had to eat and be clothed. But he didn’t invest any emotion or energy in them at all. Teri would have found all this depressing if she didn’t have to continually concentrate on where her next bag of smack was coming from.

Frank made that easier. The little dealing he did made him a worthwhile person to know, and fuck. But he was a dangerous guy to be around when shit went south. That was when Teri really earned her keep. Soaking up the negative energy.

She got back to the flat before the girls arrived from the city’s summer morning program. They showed her their projects. She shuffled them off to the couch and popped in a kid’s movie. Julia sniffled and coughed her way through it even though it was really warm out. Teri sat down with them and dozed on and off.

Frank showed up mid-afternoon. He headed straight into Teri’s bedroom and started searching through the junk piled on the shelf in the closet. Teri wandered to the door and leaned against the jamb.

Did you take the shit I had stashed up here? he threw at her over his shoulder.

Teri was surprised and disappointed. As far as Teri knew, Frank didn’t usually store his inventory in her apartment. If she had known she probably would have made some use of it. She apparently had missed her chance completely.

I didn’t know you had anything in the house, Teri answered honestly.

Frank wheeled and stuck his finger in her face. Don’t you fucking lie to me.

For once not lying to him, Teri got to respond totally innocently, I’m not lying to you.

The slap caught her on the side of the face and knocked her head into the door jamb.

You used it, didn’t you, bitch? I needed that shit to sell. Now I’m fucked.

Teri, a bit disoriented, rubbed the door jamb side of her head. She knew she had to stay where she was. Any movement away would just draw a chase.

Baby, I didn’t use any of it. I didn’t even know about it. You never hold in the house.

I ought to knock a few of your fucking teeth out. That would teach you not to get into my shit. Frank paused, mentally working his way through his list of hiding places. But then you wouldn’t be worth a damn on the street.

He was always making threats about turning her out.

Maybe, Frank thought out loud, and then pushed past Teri into the girls’ room. He pulled the top off the post of Susanna’s headboard, peered down into the empty space below and fished out a blue balloon.

Cool! he exhaled, obviously relieved.

His mood changed instantly. He grabbed Teri’s breast as he flew by. We’ll be all right tonight babe. I got this stupid college kid on the line. He’s got nothing but money to spend.

Headed for the door, Frank kicked into a basket of dirty clothes sitting in the middle of the kitchen. He stumbled slightly, righted himself and looked around. Why don’t you ever clean this place up? It’s nothing but a shithole.

Teri glanced around at the cluttered counters and uneven piles of dirty plates. She was already thinking about tonight.

Susanna, who had been standing in what would have been the dining room had there been a dining room table, quietly moved past her mother, pulled a stool over to the sink, began rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher.

Chapter Two

Walt was a lawyer. That was about it. His whole life was wrapped up in being a lawyer. So, when the neurologic tests came back and his doctor told him it was dementia, he was pissed.

I’m what, totally screwed, right?

His doctor, who had known Walt for about fifteen years as a sometimes, but mostly healthy patient, was surprised. Usually people far enough along to be diagnosed reacted with confusion, or worse yet, didn’t react at all. But Walt, hyper-vigilant about his mental capacity, had tuned in fast. He was clearly still sharp enough to fully appreciate what it meant. The doc, with no good news to give, tried his best.

Well, remember, it’s really only a clinical diagnosis. You’re at a very early stage. You have some time. Plus, there are therapies that are promising and new drugs are coming along all the time. Let’s wait and see how things develop.

Bull shit. It’s a death sentence. Just a slow and ever increasingly stupid and disgusting one where you end up warehoused, and eventually start picking shit out of your own ass.

It crossed the doc’s mind that picking shit out of your own ass was probably better than picking shit out of somebody else’s, but decided that it was best not to bring that up.

Walt started to regret all the things he hadn’t done with his life, but true to his training, quickly got diverted into the practicalities.

Damn. I should have bought that long-term care coverage.

He paused.

How long til I get tossed in the looney bin?

The doctor was a little rattled by the throw-back, looney bin thing, but again, decided not to make a point of it.

That all depends on how fast the disease progresses. Everybody’s different. You can start a regimen of brain exercises. That might lengthen the time some.

Walt was already well on to the next issue.

How long will I be able to practice? I’m already forgetting stuff. Hell, I totally missed an appearance last week. Never did that before.

I would think that you are going to have to start taking professional precautions pretty quickly. Probably right away.

Again, Walt was long gone.

What do I tell my partner? And when?

The doctor, who really didn’t know how to answer these questions and didn’t want to, was having trouble keeping up.

That’s entirely up to...

And how do I tell Catherine?

This brought Walt and the doctor both to a halt. The doctor, an internist, treated Walt’s wife as well. He knew Catherine a bit better than he knew Walt, she being a somewhat more active patient. Breaking this news would obviously be difficult.

Of course, the doctor couldn’t know Walt had moved on again and was now thinking of how he was going to tell his mistress and more importantly, how long it was before he was going to start getting the two confused. Walt was still sharp enough to foresee a lot of really bad shit happening in the not too distant future. If he didn’t do something to avoid it, he was going to have to count on being so far out to lunch that he no longer was capable of recognizing how mad the people around him got. And that wasn’t really bringing him much in the way of solace.

In the middle of this mind race, Walt’s concerns shifted.

Doc, can I really have dementia and still be able to think of all this bad stuff?

The doctor, worn out but confident in his diagnosis, answered slowly.

Apparently, you can.

Chapter Three

W hy do you hang out with her?

I don’t know, I guess I like her. Ted really didn’t know.

Well she doesn’t give a shit about you.

I think she does. I mean, I think she kind of likes me a little.

She likes you enough to take your money and to get you to drive her and her stupid brats all over town.

I do a lot of that, it’s true. Ted agreed.

Have you ever fucked her? I’d understand it if you were fucking her. But you don’t even do that, do you?

Well, I’ve thought about it.

You’ve thought about it? That’s it?

Ted did think about it.

It would be risky.

Glove up. You should be banging the shit out of her with all you do for her.

It’s not that. It could change things. Ruin everything. Besides, she has a boyfriend.

A tatted-up loser that’s just as fucked up as she is.

"A big tatted up loser that’s just as fucked up as she is," Ted pointed out.

Luke was tired of having this conversation all the time. In his mind, you either got something from somebody, or you didn’t bother with them.

Do what you want. Just don’t make me listen to you talk about her over and over, Luke replied, dragging out the last part of the response in order to clearly signal his irritation.

Ted, recognizing the cue, tried to think of something else to talk about, but as usual, came up short.

"The other day she was wearing this sleeveless thing, kind of like a wife beater, but it was loose. She was sitting on the couch. I was over to the side. I could see one of her breasts. At least part of it. You know, they’re really very nice. Kind of small, but still firm. Not bad for a woman with two kids.

She’s like twenty or something, isn’t she? Kids or no, there hasn’t been a whole lot of time for things to start to sag.

Ted agreed. He was thinking hard now. He started talking faster.

And she had really short shorts on, pretty much right at the top of her thigh, you know? She has a scar on her leg. Ted pictured the scar. On the inside of her right thigh. Pretty high up. I wonder how she got that.

Luke turned his overstuffed frame from the computer screen and studied his friend. Ted was sitting at the keyboard he kept at Luke’s house. He would come to Luke’s at all hours of the day or night, sit at the keyboard and chatter at Luke, if Luke happened to be there, while he played. For hours he would do this. It had been going on since they were kids. Lately most of the chatter had been about Teri, the skinny, dark eyed drug addict mother of two who Ted spent most of his time being worked over by.

Luke suspected Ted had still not gotten laid, ever, although Ted claimed that he had. As near as Luke could tell, Ted just thought it was better to never have failed than to find out he was bad at it.

Just fuck her and get it over with. Once you screw her, you’ll realize that she’s just using you and you’ll be able to get back to some sort of normal life.

Combining the concept of a normal life and Ted was not easy. Ted was major league fucked up over all, but particularly about Teri. Luke knew that a torrent of Teri was about to be unleashed at him, which he desperately wanted to avoid. The only way out was to bust Ted’s balls.

Why don’t you have her and the kids move in with you?

At my parents’ house?

Why not, it’s a big basement.

Ted lived in his parents’ basement, in one of those big, old houses in the city that nobody who lived in could really afford to keep up anymore.

Ted thought about it. She wouldn’t. And besides, I would never be able to practice.

You practice all the time now. A lot of good it does you.

I know. How fucked up is that? Ted had this way of consistently agreeing with you whenever you said anything negative about him.

Luke, back at his computer, was trying to figure out where the next attack on his Game of War city would come from.

I’ve been getting work, Ted offered. I’ve got the steady lunch thing at Ernie’s. I’ve been playing with the Sound Arsonists guys. That’s just rock, but it’s work​, and the money is pretty good. Over the next couple of weeks, I’ve got jazz gigs lined up in Ithaca and Albany. There are a couple of guys coming up from New York for the Albany gig that are building themselves a pretty sizable reputation in the business. That’s a big opportunity for me. If I play well with them, it could mean a lot.

By this time Ted was pretty much talking to himself. It wasn’t that Luke wasn’t listening, because he was. Maybe not caring, but listening. It was more that whenever Ted talked at any length about himself, the only participant in the conversation always ended up being Ted.

Who are the guys from New York? Luke asked just to help move non-Teri things along as he looked for a weakness in his defenses.

A couple of sax players who work together a lot downstate. You wouldn’t know them.

Ted knew full well that Luke didn’t like, or care about, jazz. Luke had no musical training and was totally happy with that. He liked what he liked, and when he liked something, he was an avid listener. But jazz was nowhere on Luke’s music radar. In fact, he liked jazz so little that he had