After parking the Lexus in a secured parking garage close to the Burnside Bridge, both men got out. A few minutes later, they were at the spot where Jim Barton met Gerald Moloski. Sitting between two homeless men, Gerald passed his bottle. On Gerald’s left sat Miguel, and Edward on his left. Miguel had Parkinson’s disease, as well as being an alcoholic for thirty-three years. The alcohol kept him from staying employed. Day drinking got in the way. He was a good guy, for the most part, bending over backward for anyone who gave him a drink or money to get a drink. Living on the streets of Portland for years, Miguel knew where to stay when it got cold, where to go when it was too warm in the summertime, and which places would give him food, just enough to survive. But it was enough.

Edward was a con artist from Louisana who managed to bilk an elderly couple without kids out of several thousand dollars voluntarily. He found his way to Portland, knowing he needed to lay low, but he blew through all the money in a matter of days. Once the cash, drugs, and alcohol were gone, he found himself flat broke, clean and sober, with nowhere to live. Edward did ‘favors’ in return for booze and an occasional Benzo or Xanax. He didn’t like drugs. But alcohol withdrawal was a literal killer, so the painkillers and antianxiety drugs took the edge off.

Gerald sat between both men, cracking his neck, eyes halfway closed, exhausted from lack of sleep. The alcohol didn’t do anything for him anymore. He’d been drinking for so long now that his skin had shrunk, wrinkled, and tightened all at the same time. James looked down on his mentor, shaking his head. Gerald looked like those apple decorations around Halloween – the ones with wrinkled faces, smiling. They were creepy! And if Gerald had smiled? There was no doubt. Both men would’ve run off, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Jim didn’t come empty-handed, a bottle of Gerald’s favorite whiskey wrapped in a paper bag. Edward and Miguel looked up at the two well-dressed men through bloodshot blurry eyes. Gerald blinked a few times, finally recognizing both men. “Well,” Gerald slurred, his tongue thick and dry. He cleared his throat a few times. It didn’t help. Jim didn’t hesitate, handing Gerald the bottle and watching both men eye the bottle and Gerald. For a second, he thought they’d beat him, snatch the bottle, and run down the street with it. Instead, they surprised both Jim and James, waiting for Gerald to open the bottle, take the first drink, and pass it to each of them. “Nice to see you came back.” Stiff as he was from sitting on the ground, Gerald attempted to stand up, pins and needles running through his extremities. “Dang it, that stings!” He rubbed his legs, bending at the knees, doing what he could to regain circulation. Miguel and Edward continued passing the bottle, tapping Gerald on the leg when it was his turn. Gerald passed multiple times.

“Didn’t think you’d come, kiddo.” He tapped James’ shoulder like he used to do when they worked together.

“You thought I forgot about the two hundred dollar tip? You, Mr. Moloski,” James sneered, “are a mess! Just look at you. You used to be the best man in the plastics industry.”

“Correction,” Gerald said, holding up both index fingers, “I still am. Just because I don’t work for RDF Plastics anymore . . .”

“It’s not RDF, Gerald. It’s Emulsion Plastics.”

“Right. The whole name change thing. Take the legacy for yourself. I remember that. I taught you that,” Gerald poked James in the chest. “And you? You decided to take it all for yourself. You totally forgot about me!”

Miguel and Edward were watching the two men yell at each other, intent on seeing who would win. Jim also watched to see which of the two street people would pass out from the ingestion of so much alcohol. Jim knew alcoholics, having been raised by an alcoholic mother. His mother never lost an argument. Passed out in the middle of one? Yeah. But she never lost. At least as far as she was concerned.

“You got me down here, Gerald. What exactly do you want?” James spent countless hours groveling at Moloski’s proverbial feet, waiting for table scraps. Now that he was the master, Gerald was groveling at his feet. “You want your two hundred dollar tip back?” Penrose reached into his wallet, pulling out four 100-dollar bills. “Here you go. Double your tip.” He put it in Moloski’s hand. “Now. You and I are even.”

Moloski started laughing. “You think I got you down here for a few hundred dollars?” Gerald sat on the sidewalk, then laid down. He was laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe. When he calmed down enough, he stood back up on his wobbly feet, getting in Penrose’s face. James could smell the alcohol and the smell of Gerald’s body odor. James wondered when the last time he had a shower. “No, kiddo. I’m taking over Emulsion Plastics, and you will help me do it.”

Now Penrose was laughing, only he didn’t double over or lay on the sidewalk. He held his ground, and then, when he stopped, wiping away a few tears, he said, “That’s laughable, Gerald! You are a real comedian. How do you think that’s going to work?”

“Easy. I have evidence that you, RDF, and several other manufacturers of chemicals to make plastics and plastics suppliers are infecting the food supply chain with PFAS and fluoropolymers. If you don’t come clean and figure out a way to clean up the infected water table, all hell will come down on you, the same way it crashed RDF Plastics, costing me my job.” Miguel had the bottle, and Gerald snatched it from him, even though it wasn’t his turn. He took two big swigs from the paper-wrapped bottle. “But most of all, Mr. Penrose, you don’t and haven’t had a plan to clean up this massive mess. I’ve spent years working out the details with my friends here,” he pointed to Miguel and Edward. “These two men may have alcoholism, but they have Ph.D’s in critical thinking and problem-solving. You wouldn’t think it by looking at them, but they are. Most street people look at life differently than we do. I wish I had their savvy years ago in your position. And the reason that Jim is here,” he pointed at Jim, who was trying to stay out of the argument, “is that he wants to refurbish that IKEA and turn it into a homeless shelter. An admirable goal, to be sure. And he’s going to need a capital investment to make it happen. I will be that investor. And you? You will make me a V.P. of Research and Development to resolve the PFAS problem, which will be solved in less than six months.” Gerald snatched the bottle away from Edward, swallowing more than two shots and handing it back to him. “Sorry, Ed. I needed that.” Gerald noted that the bottle was almost empty, something Edward complained about.

“Man! That’s almost all of it!”

“What are you whining about, Edward? You got some, didn’t you?” Miguel spat.

“You two knock it off!” Gerald shouted. “You are like two brothers fighting over a toy, and I’m sick of it!” Both men tried to crawl away. It wasn’t normal for Gerald to raise his voice. They weren’t used to it and didn’t like it.

“Now,” Gerald calmed down, turning his attention back to James, “are we clear what you will do, James?” All the color left James’ face.

“You can’t go to the board like that,” Jim interjected. “You need to get cleaned up. And probably be good to be sober, too.”

“James?”

James pushed his fists into his slacks pockets, clenching his hands tight. If he could’ve hit Gerald, he would’ve. But all that would’ve done is get land James in jail for assault. “Yes,” James replied through clenched teeth. “I agree.” James scratched his head. “I take it you want us to take you to rehab.”

“Can’t put anything past this guy, can you?” Gerald smiled, punching Jim in the shoulder. “You should see him get coffee. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” Edward passed the bottle to Gerald one last time.

“That’s the last of it. Only right for you to get it,” Edward said. Miguel nodded in agreement. Gerald nodded at both men, tipped the bottle back, and swallowed the last drink. “Ahh! Gentlemen, it’s time to go to rehab.” He shook Edward’s hand. Miguel refused to shake. He didn’t like being touched by people, not even his street people friends. “Take care of yourself, Miguel.” Miguel nodded.

“After you, gentlemen.” Teeth still clenched, James rolled his eyes, wondering if he could get the smell of Gerald out of his Lexus.