city and county of Los Angeles and perhaps in the whole of civilization.”
He was spoiling for a debate, as usual. He was wearing his standard Hawaiian shirt, double X. With his bald head and full white beard, he could have been a Santa too. The Christmas spirit was getting a real going over with Pick and Carl Richess as reps.
“Two specials,” Father Bob said.
Pick said, “There is no greater business than knowing thyself, as the divine Socrates said.”
“Didn’t Socrates commit suicide by drinking your coffee?” Father Bob winked at me as he took an Arturo Fuente cigar from his shirt pocket. He doesn’t wear the collar on the street.
Pick himself smokes a pipe. Inside. He is on a one-man resistance effort against L.A. County smoking ordinances.
The Sip is adorned with scads of framed political cartoons Pick has drawn over the years. He did an especially wicked Nixon, but his Bill and Hillary Clinton make me crack up every time.
Pick delivered two Gandhi Lattes to our table. He sat, putting down his own cup of joe. He slid it toward us.
“Smell that,” he said. “It’s Joan of Arc.”
“Joan of Arc?” Father Bob said.
“French roast,” Pick said. He took out his pipe and packed it from a leather pouch. As he lit up he said, “Anything more on the death of God?”
And so it began once again. Wimbledon. I leaned back in my chair and listened.
“Greatly exaggerated,” Father Bob said.
“It’s in all the papers,” Pick said. “Just look at the evil out there.”
“The acts of evil men prove only the existence of evil, it doesn’t—”
“Then God cannot be good,” Pick said.
“At least now you admit God exists.”
“I admit no such thing.”
“Of course you do,” Father Bob said with a glint in his eye. “You are arguing that the existence of evil isn’t compatible with a good God. Okay, then it may be a bad God, but there is a God. We can argue about his character, but not his existence.”
Pick blew a plume of smoke my way. I fought it off with my hands and a few coughs.
“I’m with Bertrand Russell,” Pick said. “If I face God after death I will tell him, ‘Sir, you did not give us enough evidence!’ ”
“To which he will reply,” Father Bob said, “ ‘You chose to ignore the evidence you had.’ ”
“And then what? God sends me to hell for that? For eternity? Because I didn’t see enough evidence?”
“It is not good to ignore evidence. Any decent lawyer will tell you that.” Father Bob smiled at me.
“When you find a decent lawyer,” Pick said, “send him over.”
“Aren’t all the lawyers in hell?” I asked. “Isn’t that the old joke, where is God going to find a lawyer?”
“Better to reign in hell,” Pick said, “than serve in heaven.”
Father Bob took a puff on his cigar. “When he starts quoting Milton, I usually take my nap.”
The door opened and a skinny, ponytailed guy of about thirty walked in. He wore a white T-shirt with a sprig of cannabis on it. “I’m looking for the lawyer,” he said.
I offer free legal advice on Saturdays, for the benefit of the poor St. Monica’s sends my way. But word has gotten out, and all sorts of wonderful clients seep in throughout the day.
Pick McNitt has taken to calling me Forrest Gump. Because, he says, I never know what I’m going to get.
Boy howdy.
8
I TOOK MY place at the table in the far corner, by the magazine rack. Pick, who is the only receptionist I have, told Mr. Ponytail to ride on over.
“My name’s Only,” he said.
“Only what?”
“Just Only.”
“Only the Lonely?”
“Right on,” he said, and laughed. Sort of a snort laugh. As he sat I caught a whiff of the Mary Jane.
“This is free legal advice?” he said.
“The Sisters of St. Monica’s are raising funds for their homeless shelter,” I said.
“St. Monica’s?”
“Up in the hills. Donate on the way out. Whatever you can.”
“Cool.”
“How can I help you?”
“I got fired from the phone store, man,” Only said.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Do you have an employment contract?”
“Contract?”
“I didn’t think so. How about an employee’s handbook?”
He shook his head.
“Were you given any verbal assurances, letters, e-mails, anything that would give you the impression you couldn’t be fired except for good cause?”
“No, man.”
“You’re what’s called an At Will employee, Mr. Only.”
“Just Only, remember?”
“I may have some trouble with that, but listen. An At Will employee means they can fire you anytime, without cause.”
“But—”
“And you can walk, whenever you want.”
“I—”
“Unless they did something like harass you, or discriminate against