Chapter Three: Morris Glanz – The Heartless Landlord

In which Johnny finds his office locked – a confrontation between two old friends – indulging in chocolate

Morris Glanz was a man who detested Johnny wholeheartedly and had no qualms in locking the young man out of his office, barring him from retrieving any items within he may have wanted.

The man had had enough of the young, layabout who vainly tried to run a poorly thought out business venture. It wasn't his problem; it was that damned Theremin's problem. Glanz knew the younger man was sure to protest about having his office taken away, but as Glanz thought with an evil grin, that's life. How he loved that one.

"Too bad, Theremin, that's life!" he cackled under his breath as he turned the key in the lock and shambled down the corridor to check the offices were secure for the night. It had been known for hoodlums to try and break the keypad lock Glanz had installed to increase security and therefore up the rent on the offices. It aggravated Glanz no end, like a constant thorn in his skinny side. However, the man was glad to find the main doors secure and returned to his office.

Glanz was a tallish, thin man, with a pallid complexion that came with spending his whole life in London and cooped up in offices. Offices had been his life. He tiredly rubbed his face with a bony hand as he sat himself in a ragged office chair and gave a yawn. Glanz had short light brown hair which was greying at the temples and stretched along to the back of his hair. It always reminded him of badgers and he hated it.

"Theremin… I look forward to seeing you…" he muttered and stood, deciding he would make use of the machines he had bought to increase rent. He stalked down the corridors and paused near the dilapidated toilets to face a shiny new vending machine. In it contained wondrous delights that tickled Glanz's tastes to no end.

Chocolate was a habit he hoped nobody would find out about. He had become rather paranoid that it could be a weapon used against him.

Stealing a few hawkeyed glances with grey eyes, he hastily took out a large bunch of keys from a fraying trouser pocket and popped open the glass display case. He stole away the chocolate bar before it knew what had hit it and disappeared back into his office, leaving the eerie silence of the aftermath of his deed.

All was still, save the quiver of a few lonely chocolate bars in the afternoon.

Johnny was annoyed he had actually stayed in the pub for two whole hours just to avoid the heavy rain. It had finally let up, leaving a misty pall in the cool air that cleared Johnny's slightly un-sober mind up nastily. Johnny had quite liked not having to think about his life, or how Lorne had known his surname, or who the woman from The Singing Fish was. Those thoughts disturbed him even now as he trudged down the street. He had had it with his office for the time being; no-one ever came to it anyway so it wasn't as if he was really abandoning his post, more… taking a business trip home.

Johnny had the feeling he needed to take a nice long lie down before attempting anything else. He knew he was going to have to return to his office and pick those papers up for the Men Without Tents, yet he wasn't sure he could really cope with anything beyond lying prone for several long hours.

"Hey! Johnny!" a high female voice shouted and Johnny jerked out of his reverie and turned only to have a form barrel into him and grip him tight, which he soon discovered to be a hug by a small squeaky woman. His insides felt like they were being set on fire as his brain blared with panic. Today was too much, surely he couldn't hold on…?

"Uh… hello?" Johnny ventured and leaned back to see a vaguely familiar mass of long dark blonde hair. She looked up into his eyes and he felt a mental shiver cross his mind at the recognition.

'Not today. Of all days, please don't bring this upon me!'

"Millicent?" he said disbelievingly, her small brown eyes staring at him as he spoke, "what on Earth are you doing here?"

The woman pulled away and fiddled with her hair for a bit, looking smiley but nervous. She shifted from foot to foot before opening her small, heavily lipstick covered mouth to speak.

"We-ell… I live in London – just like you! And we went to school together and know each other and stuff, and Daddy decided that he didn't want to pay for all my clothes and things so I got kicked out of my flat! So could I live with you, because I don't know anyone else!" Millicent trilled, making Johnny wince. He was positive he was going to get a headache.

Johnny remembered Millicent well, but not in a particularly good way. She was from a rich family, and terribly snooty when she was a teenager. She was made to look like she had just stepped off a cover of a horse magazine, fresh from the countryside and talked in a squeaky nasal voice that sent messages to Johnny's brain telling him to vomit, or run away. He was from an average family home and so was regarded as beneath Millicent and her friends, ignored or occasionally taunted by them with snorting, horse sounding laughter that still rattled his head when he had particularly bad nightmares.

"Um, but we really didn't get along…" Johnny began and Millicent lightly hit his arm with one of her finely gloved hands. Millicent was a delicate girl, as if she was on a slightly smaller proportion to everyone else. But somehow she had developed strength that overpowered most people she encountered, her arms like vices when she had been squeezing him.

"Nonsense! I really liked you, just like my old dog, Bettie, bless her soul. Please? You would be doing me a terribly great favour," she pleaded and Johnny sighed heavily, but suddenly brightened as an idea hit him on how to capitalise on the situation.

"I suppose I could… if you could get your parents to become my clients," he decided and Millicent looked puzzled.

"What do you do?" she asked, frowning and moved a clump of flaxen hair behind an ear. Johnny shrugged and decided to simplify his potentially long winded explanation of his career so far.

"I sort people's taxes out for them, so they don't have to," he said shortly and Millicent nodded, as if it was a reasonable trade.

"I'll ask Daddy tonight. You have a telephone, right?" she asked and Johnny shook his head.

"Got a pay phone in the lobby," he informed her and she looked mortified.

"You're poorer than before?" she said with her mouth gaping and Johnny shrugged again, feeling uncomfortable.

"Had to make it on my own. I suppose you're as poor as I am now," he reasoned and she scoffed loudly.

"Rubbish! I have all my expensive clothes, and my Mummy and Daddy and…" she trailed, unable to find anything else and then her lip began to wobble.

"I'm poor!" she wailed and Johnny stepped back in alarm. His nerves getting the better of him, he rubbed his freckles and blinked several times. He wasn't really sure what to do, but made a lame attempt of vaguely patting her arm. Millicent responded with a louder wail that made Johnny's teeth rattle and nearby dogs whine. The pitch was unbearable.

"Please… can we just… quiet down?" Johnny faltered and Millicent managed to shut her mouth, but it trembled terribly as if she was barely able to keep it shut. Johnny had horrible visions of it popping open and that screech boring itself into his head. He liked his head. It was the only one he had and he wasn't willing to let it be destroyed by this formerly absurdly childish rich woman.

"Come on, let's head… home, I suppose," Johnny's stomach clenched at naming Millicent as someone who shared his home. It was his, all his and… that small pathetic excuse for a flat couldn't be called home by anyone else…

"Yay! I have a place to stay!" she exclaimed happily in that shrill voice and Johnny secretly begged for a quick death. Today he was not going to get that lie down. With Millicent around, perhaps never. Johnny shuddered at the idea and began hurrying Millicent down the streets to his flat before he changed his mind.

'Or regain my sanity.'

Johnny's flat door ominously creaked open and Millicent bustled past Johnny through the doorway, her brown eyes sweeping around the small flat like a bird of prey seeking a mouse. Johnny wasn't sure what she made of his flat. It wasn't tidy, or clean, or in the least attractive. The main feature Johnny rented it was because it was amazingly cheap. He thought it might be the massively predominant seventies favoured brown walls and ratty carpeting.

"It's… not very nice," Millicent said, her lip twisting with disgust as she carefully prodded a pair of discarded jeans out of her path with a foot. Johnny shrugged though her back was to him and sat himself on the worn brown sofa, glad he had his trench coat to prevent skin-to-sofa contact. He was afraid of what was contained within its leaking stuffing.

"There's no asbestos in this place, is there?" Millicent worriedly asked and Johnny scoffed, shaking his head.

"Course not! That's illegal and the Hazmat crew visited this place last year after one of the third floorers complained. It was fine, promise," he explained and Millicent paled and joined him on the sofa, wrinkling her nose.

"That's terrible! Where will I sleep? I'm not sleeping with you," she said, her throat twitching as if she wanted to retch. Johnny raised his hands, the mutual feeling of no attraction making him too feel sickened by the thought.

"No problem. I'll take the sofa and you can take the bed. You'll need to get your own covers though – mine is right here," he informed her, motioning to his trench coat and Millicent made a nasal whining noise.

"It's not fair! I like money and you have none!" she cried and Johnny sighed heavily, patting her shoulder as if he were patting a vicious dog.

"You want to use that payphone?" he suggested and Millicent perked up, immediately forgetting what she was whining about. She stood and looked to the door, then Johnny.

"Yes. Where's the payphone?" she demanded and Johnny stood, pulling his trench coat tighter to him as if a cold breeze had hit him. It hadn't, really he just wanted to make sure he had his coat as if it would protect him from her.

"Okay," he said tiredly and exited the flat, entering a dingy corridor. It was all dull browns and oranges, the likes Johnny had never seen since he once accidentally picked up a seventies furniture catalogue buried in the mess that was his parents garage. As a child, he had also been traumatised by that, though he felt it would be a heinous thing to admit a fear of Rattan chairs and glass dining room tables.

Millicent bounced alongside him with her apparently endless energy, her mood now turned to cheerful. Johnny decided she must have some kind of medical condition to be able to move up and down the scales of emotion like a yoyo and then proceeded to wonder whether the woman was a caffeine addict.

They made their way to a rundown foyer, where a glum public phone sat against a wall that screamed to be re-wallpapered. Millicent frowned and slowly bit her lip before removing some change from her blouse pocket and skipping over to the phone. Johnny took a seat on the other side of the foyer, its old leather groaning threateningly. He looked up to find Millicent vainly pulling her sleeve to her hand and trying to hold the phone with the barrier of sleeve between it and her flesh.

"It won't kill you. You can always wash your hands afterwards," he reasoned and frowned, wondering what Millicent thought phones could give you. He was sure that phone hadn't been touched in some time. Generally people thought it was broken.

Gingerly, Millicent held the phone with a bare hand. However nothing terrible happened to her – Johnny couldn't suppress a thought of the phone offing the woman so he could languish in poverty in peace – and she put in the money and dialled.

She began to hum as she waiting, a grating, nasal hum that made Johnny grit his teeth and shut his eyes while he hurriedly tried to cobble together reasons not to throttle her.

Thankfully, the humming ceased and he only had to endure her voice.

"Daddy? Daddy! It's Millicent!... No… no, I'm not Hermione… be quiet, Daddy, I want to talk!... I want to go back to my flat and pick some things up. I have a friend to stay with now, so there! I can make it on my on!"

Her conversation appeared very one sided in Johnny's opinion.

'No wonder her father kicked her out. I'm starting to wonder why I don't kick her out. Maybe I'm lonely. Or stupid. Or both.'

He ground his teeth and pondered on these thoughts while Millicent verbally battered her father for another ten minutes.

Eventually Johnny was brought out of his thoughts with the phone being placed back onto the receiver. He had to escape her and get those papers for the Men Without Tents. It wasn't really that far and it hadn't got that dark yet. With a resolved sigh, he stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Millicent asked and Johnny faced her, his eye twitching slightly as he had a few school day flashbacks of Millicent and her voice making him want to run. Unconsciously, he gave the freckles on his rose a rub, temporarily comforting him before attempting to answer and keep her from coming with him.

"I need to pop to my office and pick up some papers for some… acquaintances," Johnny informed her and he couldn't help but frown slightly at calling the Men Without Tents acquaintances. Lorne seemed to know who he was and they were so friendly and helpful, you couldn't help but think of them as friends. Johnny shrugged, the feel of his trench coat reassuring. He had the resolute thought that the coat could protect him somehow from Millicent.

"Can I come?" she asked hopefully and Johnny sighed heavily, expecting this to happen. His mind valiantly tried to come up with a reason why she couldn't come, but it kept flashing to the constructed thought of Millicent not liking his excuse and going crazy. She was demented; Johnny was sure of it from his memories of his school days. Well, she certainly wasn't normal.

"I… well you… there's nothing I can do, is there? Nothing, nothing…" he muttered and realised that he was speaking aloud. Hurriedly, he straightened his shoulders and gave his freckles another unconscious rub before taking in a leaden sigh.

"Fine. Come with me and we'll visit my office. It'll be dark by the time we get there, though," he warned her, but she shook her head so her hair fluttered about girlishly. She went to follow, but her eyes widened and she grabbed his arm.

"My handbag! I need it! Keys!" she commanded, her dainty hand extended in front of him, and Johnny monotonously handed them over and she ran off, leaving Johnny to contemplate the sneaky thought of running away himself to escape her.

"She would be safe in the flat…" he quietly rationalised, but he gave his head a shake and patiently waited. She returned within five minutes, her black handbag bouncing against her shoulder as she nearly gambolled into him.

"Let's go!" she shrilled happily and dragged him outdoors.

Johnny had walked in silence, while Millicent had spoken the whole way, covering everything she could possibly think of that had ever happened to her over the years they hadn't seen each other. Johnny felt uncomfortable with the nasty feeling that every Millicent free year he had enjoyed was being slowly polluted with her every action she had taken in their separation. Tainted, was the word that came into his mind.

It was getting dark by the time the office building was reached. He punched in the code and entered, careful to check Glanz wasn't about to antagonise him. The last thing he needed was Millicent and Glanz to be talking at him, not to him, for long periods of time, each crushing his soul in their own way.

Millicent looked around, clearly impressed with Glanz's rent increasing methods. The chocolate machines gleamed in the fluorescent light. Johnny didn't care much for them and moved on to his office.

Millicent tailed after him, peering through the odd window into the offices with an interest though the rooms were dark. Johnny felt himself tense as he saw his office and foreboding grew. His body told him something was wrong, but he brushed it off, putting the strange day he was having down as the reason for such paranoia.

Tiredly scrubbing his scalp, he placed a hand on the handle and found it wouldn't budge. He never bothered to lock his office as it had nothing particularly worth stealing. His jaw twitched and clenched and he found a growl escape gritted teeth.

"Glanz…" he growled and kicked the door. It rattled and shuddered, making Millicent squawk and back away. Nothing made sense to Johnny anymore – he felt as if the world was ganging up on him to make his life even worse than it already was. Why him?

"I've had enough," Johnny muttered, and with that he turned on his heel and strolled out of the office building onto the street. He sat on the edge of the pavement, resting his feet in the road and laid his head on his knees. He needed somewhere to retreat to, but where?

Millicent exited the building to see Johnny stand, straightening his shoulders and pulling his trench coat closer to him for a chill wind blew and she wondered what he was going to do.

Johnny looked into the distance and saw a large piece of London sprawled before him. He could go somewhere… the cinema perhaps. It was a method of escape after all.

Squaring his shoulders, a quickly developing habit, he shoved his cold hands into his large trench coat pockets and began to walk down the street into the unknown.