The Outstanding Tie
By
Mark Connelly
“I know our anniversary is not until next month,” Jessica said, leaning over the dining table, “but when I was in Bloomingdales with… a friend,” she added hastily, “I saw this and just had to get it for you. It’s perfect. It will make you stand out.” She handed him a long slim box fastened with a red ribbon.
Simon Marks was delighted. It had been a long time since Jessica had given him a gift. He had been bathing in her upbeat mood for days. She’d been civil, friendly, even affectionate. Jessica had been right about the separation. Maybe they needed a break, a time apart in order to regroup and reconnect. And she came back a week early, surprising him with a home-cooked meal. And Jessica hated to cook. That night she was actually romantic, casting out Simon’s suspicions. Perhaps, as Jessica insisted, Harry Angel was nothing more than her tennis coach. All the texts and emails were merely messages between friends. Afterall, getting married was her idea – as was the house, the Jaguar, their vacations to Antibes, her charge accounts. And for the first time in their two-year marriage she mentioned starting a family. In fact, she’d shared her plans with their financial advisor when he questioned her request for more life insurance. Simon had adequate coverage, Fred Brooks explained, pursing his lips as he studied the application. “But we have to think of our children,” Jessica declared, gripping Simon’s hand. When Fred reluctantly agreed, Jessica smiled.
Simon opened the slim gift box and folded back the white tissue paper. The necktie underneath was bright yellow with a shiny gold sunburst. The cheery sunface smiled up at him like a goofy clown. It was perfect for a used car dealer, a carnival barker, or a Mardi Gras judge but an unfortunate choice for a CPA with one of the nation’s most conservative accounting firms.
Oh well, he could always wear this monstrosity at the yacht club or on New Year’s Eve for a joke.
Eager to please Jessica, he mustered approval. “I love it. It’s…it’s…bright.”
“It will make you stand out,” Jessica assured him, her green eyes dazzling in the candlelight.
Jessica’s affectionate mood continued all week, and on Thursday morning when he stepped out of the shower, she pointed to the suitcase on the bed.
“I didn’t want you to be late. Everything’s all packed!”
“Thank you. That was so good of you!”
Simon slipped into the khakis and turtleneck he wore on long flights for comfort. At the annual convention, he would be in uniform – black or dark-blue suits with matching ties. More than one Wall Street guru remarked that Tellson and Bruder accountants dressed like undertakers. When they filed into a shareholders’ meeting, hearts sank. When they trudged into an office or factory, everyone knew layoffs were coming. The men and women in black and blue were never the bearers of good news.
Unpacking at the Marriott that night Simon noticed the gift box atop a trio of dark jackets. Jessica had sent him to St. Louis with a single tie. The outsanding tie. He looked at the note clipped above the smiling sunface.
Have a great convention.
You’ll be outstanding!
xxx
Jessica.
Oh well, Simon thought, if anyone asked about his tie he’d simply say his wife bought it for him. Men would nod in glum understanding, and women would smile – what a devoted husband!
#
The convention’s opening session ended at noon. Hundreds of accountants left the conference center and headed to the buffet luncheon at the Hilton. Dressed in suits and skirts of black and blue, the attendees were indistinguishable, except Simon. The outstanding tie blazed yellow in the sunlight, its smiling face shining like a mirror.
#
Standing on a rooftop a block away Harry Angel had no problem spotting the tie he’d selected in Bloomingdales. Lifting his rifle, he took aim. As soon as Simon’s forehead came into view, he fired. Just to make sure, he pumped two more bullets into the motionless figure sprawled on the pavement.
So long, Simon.
Catching a gust of wind, the outstanding tie waved like a flag.
Previously published by Low Life Press
Mark Connelly’s fiction has appeared in Peregrine Journal, Killer Nashville, Möbius Blvd, Indiana Review, Bristol Noir, The Berlin Review, Third Wednesday, Altered Reality, Cream City Review, Cerasus Magazine, and 34th Parallel. In 2005 Texas Review Press published his novella Fifteen Minutes, which received the Clay Reynolds Prize.
By
Mark Connelly
“I know our anniversary is not until next month,” Jessica said, leaning over the dining table, “but when I was in Bloomingdales with… a friend,” she added hastily, “I saw this and just had to get it for you. It’s perfect. It will make you stand out.” She handed him a long slim box fastened with a red ribbon.
Simon Marks was delighted. It had been a long time since Jessica had given him a gift. He had been bathing in her upbeat mood for days. She’d been civil, friendly, even affectionate. Jessica had been right about the separation. Maybe they needed a break, a time apart in order to regroup and reconnect. And she came back a week early, surprising him with a home-cooked meal. And Jessica hated to cook. That night she was actually romantic, casting out Simon’s suspicions. Perhaps, as Jessica insisted, Harry Angel was nothing more than her tennis coach. All the texts and emails were merely messages between friends. Afterall, getting married was her idea – as was the house, the Jaguar, their vacations to Antibes, her charge accounts. And for the first time in their two-year marriage she mentioned starting a family. In fact, she’d shared her plans with their financial advisor when he questioned her request for more life insurance. Simon had adequate coverage, Fred Brooks explained, pursing his lips as he studied the application. “But we have to think of our children,” Jessica declared, gripping Simon’s hand. When Fred reluctantly agreed, Jessica smiled.
Simon opened the slim gift box and folded back the white tissue paper. The necktie underneath was bright yellow with a shiny gold sunburst. The cheery sunface smiled up at him like a goofy clown. It was perfect for a used car dealer, a carnival barker, or a Mardi Gras judge but an unfortunate choice for a CPA with one of the nation’s most conservative accounting firms.
Oh well, he could always wear this monstrosity at the yacht club or on New Year’s Eve for a joke.
Eager to please Jessica, he mustered approval. “I love it. It’s…it’s…bright.”
“It will make you stand out,” Jessica assured him, her green eyes dazzling in the candlelight.
Jessica’s affectionate mood continued all week, and on Thursday morning when he stepped out of the shower, she pointed to the suitcase on the bed.
“I didn’t want you to be late. Everything’s all packed!”
“Thank you. That was so good of you!”
Simon slipped into the khakis and turtleneck he wore on long flights for comfort. At the annual convention, he would be in uniform – black or dark-blue suits with matching ties. More than one Wall Street guru remarked that Tellson and Bruder accountants dressed like undertakers. When they filed into a shareholders’ meeting, hearts sank. When they trudged into an office or factory, everyone knew layoffs were coming. The men and women in black and blue were never the bearers of good news.
Unpacking at the Marriott that night Simon noticed the gift box atop a trio of dark jackets. Jessica had sent him to St. Louis with a single tie. The outsanding tie. He looked at the note clipped above the smiling sunface.
Have a great convention.
You’ll be outstanding!
xxx
Jessica.
Oh well, Simon thought, if anyone asked about his tie he’d simply say his wife bought it for him. Men would nod in glum understanding, and women would smile – what a devoted husband!
#
The convention’s opening session ended at noon. Hundreds of accountants left the conference center and headed to the buffet luncheon at the Hilton. Dressed in suits and skirts of black and blue, the attendees were indistinguishable, except Simon. The outstanding tie blazed yellow in the sunlight, its smiling face shining like a mirror.
#
Standing on a rooftop a block away Harry Angel had no problem spotting the tie he’d selected in Bloomingdales. Lifting his rifle, he took aim. As soon as Simon’s forehead came into view, he fired. Just to make sure, he pumped two more bullets into the motionless figure sprawled on the pavement.
So long, Simon.
Catching a gust of wind, the outstanding tie waved like a flag.
Previously published by Low Life Press
Mark Connelly’s fiction has appeared in Peregrine Journal, Killer Nashville, Möbius Blvd, Indiana Review, Bristol Noir, The Berlin Review, Third Wednesday, Altered Reality, Cream City Review, Cerasus Magazine, and 34th Parallel. In 2005 Texas Review Press published his novella Fifteen Minutes, which received the Clay Reynolds Prize.
