Straight Man

father. “I’ll try.”
    “You should let us adjuncts into your union.”
    “You have my vote.”
    She smirks, as if my promises are not something she places a lot of stock in. She may even know something about my standing in the union. “You know what my moron father wants me to do now?”
    “No, what?”
    “Go back for my Ph.D.,” she says. “He’s offered to pay for it.”
    “What a jerk,” I say, deciding to play along.
    Her face clouds over. “Watch yourself, bozo. This is my old man we’re talking about.”

CHAPTER
7
    The campus is on the outskirts of town, five or ten minutes from the business district, depending on whether you catch the two traffic lights or miss them. I’m to meet Jacob Rose at Keglers, downtown, at noon. The food on campus is unworthy of a dean. Therefore, we will dine at a bowling alley. Keglers is on the other side of the tracks which divide the town neatly in half. There is no bad side of the tracks in Railton. Also no good side. The rule is, the closer you get to the tracks, the worse. Back in the town’s heyday, when all the trains passed through on their way to Chicago and points west, one right after the other, the only way to escape the dirt and soot was to live up the slope, above where the ash settled. Houses in the lower elevations grew epidermal layers of gray film. Now, though the railroad is all but dead, what remains of the business district is so sooty and gray that a month of rains couldn’t cleanse it, and the town is such a blight that local and state politicians have been working overtime to locate funds to complete a spur of north-south four-lane divided highway that will bypassit. The construction will mean jobs for Railton’s chronically unemployed railroad workers and will make life easier on the truckers who now clog the narrow streets of downtown Railton. In this way the highway is being touted as an economic boon for the region, but when it’s completed, the four-lane will be the final step in Railton’s ostracism, officially excusing travelers from stopping, or even slowing down.
    I arrive early, but Jacob Rose is already there. In fact, he’s halfway through his corned beef sandwich. “Sorry,” he says when I pull out a chair. “I had to wedge in an appointment at twelve-thirty, which means I’ve got to eat and run. Try the corned beef.”
    The lounge overlooks the bowling alley below, only two of its twenty-two lanes in use. A sloppy, slow-moving fellow in low-slung, baggy jeans leaves an ugly split and bellows, “You cocksucker!”
    “Is it the corned beef that you like here or the ambience?” I ask Jacob Rose.
    “There’s no such thing as ambience in Railton,” he says. “Nice nose.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I hear Gracie did it,” he says. “You must have been protecting your groin.”
    In fact, the corned beef looks pretty good. I check around for a waitress. There’s apparently only one, and she’s across the room flirting with the bartender.
    “Not a bad strategy,” the dean admits. “With Gracie you’re always wise to guard against the low blow.” An observation born of personal experience, I know.
    “Leaves the rest pretty wide open, though.”
    “Fortunately, leaving himself wide open is Hank Devereaux’s trademark,” Jacob reminds me.
    I wave at the waitress, who is still unaware of my presence. She pivots on an ample hip and settles onto a stool at the bar.
    “I hate to add to your difficulties …,” the dean continues.
    “Then don’t, for Christ’s sake,” I tell him, stealing one of his fries.
    “This might not be such bad news, actually,” he says, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin, pushing his chair back an inch or so from the table. “The English department’s review has been moved up. Internal will begin its part in September. External will follow in October. Ifyou’re owed any favors at other institutions, now’s the time to call in the markers.”
    I run my fingers through my hair. “That’s crazy,” I tell him. “We’re in transition. We’re hiring a new chair.”
    “Strictly a money decision,” Jacob says. “The external team is doing Eastern and Northern also. This way all three get reviewed at once and the boys at the main campus get to promote the idea that we’re all one university, geographically dispersed, as they’re so fond of saying.”
    “Ideologically dispersed, you mean. Philosophically. Demographically. Economically.”
    “Be that as it may. And don’t worry