210 East 61st on Fifth Avenue
From the time the Scoville entourage landed in LaGuardia in NYC and knowing for sure that Derby Joshua Clearwater Ripley was missing, Justin Scoville became a man on a mission, possessed with one job to do. Find Ripley.
This had a very adverse affect on his relationship with Tsu Yen, especially after figuring out he couldn't speak Japanese and her English was very confusing. Besides, he was back to getting his jolleys by working.
The swirl of inconveniences, distractions, irritations, set-backs, disasters (both personal and of a world in crisis), difficulties and responsibilities all added fuel for his conviction that Justin had one thing to remain focussed on, the Ripleymeister.
Umpa, Fredalnte, talking minerals, changing body parts, a man converted to a woman, supposedly an aspect of himself and living in a space smaller than the old woman's shoe...none of that was in the sights of Scoville's machine. As powerful as he and his organization was, they were no match for the mysteries of the universe. But wait...could Scoville himself be part of the puzzle? Seems like a reasonable assertion in the complex definition of nested hierarchies.
After a week of being back from Hong Kong, Tiffany finally scheduled the meeting which Willis had been requesting with Scoville.
"Boss, what are you going to do about these chics?," Willis asked with a sense of urgency in his voice that Justin recognized as familiar and unnecessary.
"When life deals you chickens, make chicken-aide," flippantly replied Scoville nonchalantly.
"You better close up your chicken-aide stand and consider legal aid boss," returned Willis. "These women mean business. One of them has retained Sluesch, Schleem, and Schizard and Judge Yoenot has accepted their request for a hearing.
"When that the poor have cried, Yoenot hath wept," said Scoville, looking out the 20th floor window, from their 61st Street address on the Upper East Side in Manhattan. "Ambition should be made of sterner stuff."
"Boss," said Willis, familiar with Shakespeare but not remembering Mark Antony's speech from Julius Caesar. "There is a stack of papers on my desk, a report from the private investigative firm we hired. We asked them to dig up what is likely to follow these other accusations. Eighteen other women are likely to come out of the woodwork. Keep in mind, we've also discovered that seventeen of them couldn't possibly have any basis of truth."
"Yet Sluesch, Schleem and Schizard request his ambition," continued Scoville, as if on stage and his out of focus view of the nearby towers were an attentive audience, "and Sluesch, Schleem and Schizard are surely honorable bottom-feeders!"
With that Scoville turned instantly toward Willis with fire in his eyes. "Willis, get a fucking grip. You don't really think I'd be stupid enough to jeopardize all I've worked for on pussy do you?"
Roger dropped his head, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Justin, I believe you. But even as a nuisance, each of these cases should be addressed. You should show yourself to the press. We need to make a statement and discredit these women!"
"If men have lost their reason, then I may as well be in bed with those women," emphatically asserted Scoville, as if arguing in court. "Bear with me...what if we take the position that we do not speak to disprove what Schlick, Schleuth and Lizard argue, but only remind people what the people themselves already know. What judgement has fled to brutish beasts, we can not retrieve. The public did all love us once, not without cause. Let the slime slither in their disgusting depravity and reckless imaginations. And let us resolve to shine God's light wherever darkness dwells!"
As Willis was walking out of Scoville's office, he nodded quickly to Tiffany who was coming in for her 2:00 o'clock and then muttered under his breath, "Nice speech ass-hole. I'm not a CFO, I'm a fucking errand boy."
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