—When you and I were, when you started behaving just the way you are now and I started seeing him he sat down one night and told me he’d added up what he’d spent so far taking me out. It came to ninety-four dollars and a half, and he wanted to know if I was serious before he went on. Does that answer you?
—Poor bastard . . . he slumped further beside the glass,—you know, I believe that part Stella . . . and his knees came up again.
—Jack can’t you settle down, it’s like driving with a ten-year-old.
—Just these damned little expensive foreign cars, must mean the piano roll business is still pretty good though.
—I think business is but the rest of it’s quite confused apparently, taxes and the shares in Father’s estate. And didn’t he give you some when you left?
—Shares? Gave me five, mustering out pay, and I just . . . he broke off, glancing up at her and trying to wedge an arm behind the head rest,—for whatever they’re worth, what the hell are they worth?
—I don’t know, I don’t think even Norman knows really.
—He must have a nice wad of them put away himself.
—Twenty-three I think, but my aunts and uncle have something like twenty-seven.
—But with what you come into from your father . . .
—Probably not more than twenty-five Norman says, when the estate taxes are paid.
—Well, twenty-five and what did you say he had? twenty-three? Makes forty-eight, I don’t see what you’re . . .
—Assuming we keep them together, she said without looking up from the road, where the banks had narrowed and the screen of trees thinned before the rise of buildings.—And you still have your, five you said?
—Had them in a shirt drawer, he said, and then he half turned to look at her for a moment before he sank back beside the glass again as the screen of trees lost to concrete before a fall of birds from the bridge overhead, thinned to anchor fence penning a battered fleet of empty cabs, finally he turned to her bag between them on the seat and opened it, bent over it, a hand in it.
—Please don’t start that again.
—Start what. I was looking for a cigarette . . . he came up with a package and a bill he twisted to get into a pocket before he lit the cigarette and opened the bag to put the package back in.—Start this again, you mean?
She glanced down.—Yes, will you put it . . .
—Off with that weary coronet and show, the hairy diadem which on you doth grow. Now off with . . . The car slowed sharply and he threw up his arm.—-Just a little poetry, John Donne the prominent churchman little tribute to his . . .
—Jack this is enough, if you . . .
—Will you let me out here then?
—Don’t be ridiculous but stop . . .
—But what’s the matter? I quote a prominent churchman on hairy diadems when you bring out a snapshot of one, nicest name for it I could think of offhand and you almost throw me through the . . . a horn sounded,—look out!
—Well what are you doing this for!
—Because I don’t believe this is the reason Norman hit you.
—What do you mean now.
—I mean you’ve been saying twenty-three I think and didn’t Father give you some shares and you know God damned well it was five, you know twenty-five plus five is thirty which is more than twenty-three and more than twenty-seven . . .
—Jack you . . .
—But Norman’s twenty-three plus five would be twenty-eight which is more than your aunts’ twenty-seven and more than your twenty-five well you didn’t have to bother Stella, I haven’t got the God damned five shares.
—But you said . . .
—I said it was in a shirt drawer and I took it out of the shirt drawer and right now I don’t know who the hell has it, can you just pull over up here and let me out?
—Jack please, please stop being ridiculous you . . .
—No I mean it, Stella for you lying is just a practical way of handling things, remember how cheerfully you used to lie to your father when we, when there wasn’t even any real reason to? You just need somebody to lie to.
A horn sounded behind as the car slowed sharply and bumped over a low curb onto grass.—I don’t know where you think you’re going.
—I’ll get over the fence there and find a subway try to make the last race, that’s why you married Norman isn’t it, find somebody that God damned decent he deserves to be lied to Stella I’ll bet you haven’t been really laid since the day I met you again on that train platform . . .
Horns sounded as the door slammed and the wheels dropped to the pavement where she turned without a look back, pressing the dark glasses close against her face, over rises and down, through the tunnel and up the dim arcade along the river, dim as the rooms she moved among lighting lamps under opaque shades, dropping the bag on An Informal Evening at the Juilliard Theater, the glasses beside it, down the hall thrusting away one shoe, the other, a hand behind her coursing down the zipper as the other sought among robes for the robe fallen open from her where she bent over the basin to bring her eye close to the mirror when the doorbell rang and she caught it closed, caught up the dark glasses passing the table and had them on when she reached up to put the chain in place before she opened the chain’s hand’s breadth,—Oh! . . . and she closed it to slip the chain off again, and draw it wide.—But you should be in Palma . . .
—Oh I know darling, they ran out of electricity or something and the whole thing was canceled. Like here, you always have it so dark I don’t know how you find your way.
—I know it by heart, she led in, paused at a sofa,—do you want anything? before she sank down.
—Nothing, no, a cigarette? Oh, in your bag? Let me . . .
—No I’ll get it, she started up, arched over the sofa’s arm to reach for it.
—Oh and you heard his concert, did you like it?
—Yes all but the Berg, she said getting the package out, and a lipstick rolled to the carpet where she left it, snapped the bag closed and dropped it over the sofa’s back.
—Yes I can’t stand Berg too. But how nice to find you, I called and of course you didn’t answer, I was sure you are entertaining. Is this an ashtray?
—Yes, but how mean.
—Not mean at all darling, would you lie to me? The one Wednesday night at Elaine’s with all the marvelous chains . . .
—No please . . . She pressed the glasses back to her face.
—But I only wanted to see, it’s almost gone?
—I don’t want you to see . . . she moved her head for the finger tracing a strand fallen loose on the slope of her shoulder.—I don’t want anyone to.
—But you should know better darling, you read all the statistics of accidents in the bath, I can’t look?
—No no one, it’s too ugly.
—How can something about you be ugly?
—Even this . . .? and the robe fell open where she raised her throat to the light.
—Even this, this is precious! There is never such a necklace, how many times do I tell you? Wait let me show you, in pale rubies how precious . . .
—No . . . her hand came up to the pendant already half fashioned there in lipstick,—no I don’t like it touched.
—I might steal it? like Brin, what did you tell me, the name your terrible friend told you for it once?
—Bris . . . she caught breath as breath stirred a strand at her ear,—Brisingamen . . . as the lipstick lingered along her breast.
—But a goddess of love and beauty he told you? Then he was not so terrible to say that.
—He was terrible, she said, the lipstick mounting in slow circles to fleck quick as lashes where its color gathered in the pebbling peak.
—Wait be still or I spoil my work, no don’t look yet.
—Always terrible, she said near a whisper, robe fallen away now where the lipstick came down in a flourish to slow and shade a heart on the clear rise and fall of the soft swell, suddenly shot through with an arrow down, a
nd she started.
—Now, you must see how gay, look! You must come next time like this, they will be enchanted, would you?
—Don’t be . . . she broke off, looking down her,—of course not, how silly you are.
—You don’t see, is it not like a cat with one large eye?
—How silly.
—No, silly no. Look, how he aims to hide deep in the bush, may I seek him?
—Silly.
—It is nice too, the lipstick. Is it Lanvin?
—Oh . . .? The telephone rang.—Do Lanvin make lipstick . . .? and she lay a hand over her darkened eyes.
It rang again, and then again, a long ring.
—They don’t answer Mister Angel.
—Hell I told you she wouldn’t Coen, even if she’s there, just forget it Myrna. I don’t know what help you think she’d be if she did answer.
—I would like to clarify her position on . . .
—Well she’s sure as hell not going to help you, anything you come up with she’s got so many positions she could go get a job in the carnival, Myrna why don’t you just go take a coffee break or something, I can buzz for you on the buzzer when I need you back. Mister Coen and me have to sit down to these figures for a while . . . he loomed behind her, pent by her short steps as far as a cabinet just inside the door.—Little bourbon here to clear our heads before we dive in.
—Oh no not for me.
—Just got these put in . . . he was bent over pulling at the cabinet door—pretty shoddy job too, he yanked at it,—supposed to look like this modern paneling so there’s no place you can hardly get a grip . . .
—Be careful the whole thing’s tipping . . .
—Might be better if it did, I wouldn’t have to . . . go through this every time I . . . now, where’d she do with those Dixie cups.
—You’ve changed your scenery since I . . .
—Well you can see we didn’t but just get started, those new drapes instead of the old curtains we had over there, I put that big old chair and that old coat rack down in the basement . . . he paused, bent over pouring into two paper cups,—but you know what they want now for a sofa out of leather?
—Oh, no what I meant was . . .
—Even thought of getting that music they play in banks and elevators piped in, he turned walking carefully and set one of the paper cups on the corner of the desk.—But you know what they want for that?
—Oh but I didn’t want any.
—What did you mean though, you don’t like those drapes?
—No I meant the young lady, you had a secretary with red . . .
—Terry you mean, yes, well she . . . He raised his cup and drank half of it off,—she got a little lonely in here I guess you’d say, I changed her around with Myrna out there in the order room. Softest berth in the place right in here but I guess sometimes they, they get a little lonely with just me to look at . . . and he finished off the cup.—This Myrna’s good though, you know who she almost reminds me of sometimes? You remember Joan Bennett when she dyed her hair black? I always thought it was terrible when she did that, he said back at the cabinet, bent down shaking its door again,—think a man that calls himself a big contractor could put a little cupboard door on straight now wouldn’t you, look at that. Same little Eyetalian that just gave us that sky high estimate on this new production layout, he thinks he’s doing you a favor by walking in the door. Sooner we can get that going though the sooner we . . .
—No but wait Mister Angel you, excuse me for interrupting you but you can’t. You can’t commit that kind of money right now. You don’t know when this estate will be settled and the government may step in any minute with a lien on the property and tie your hands. With their back tax claim against the company I don’t know why they haven’t already done it, and these estate taxes are going to . . .
—What’s all this then . . . his hand came across to sweep the neatly piled papers toward him,—is this it?
—Rough preliminary figures yes, now I think we discussed three million dollars as a conservative figure in evaluating the company which would bring the decedent’s share, the value of the decedent’s forty-five percent to one million, three hundred fifty thousand. Now anticipating the government taking four hundred twenty-three thousand on the first million, and forty-two percent on anything over that, forty-two percent of three fifty is one hundred forty thousand, add the state’s flat eight percent and you have six hundred seventy-one thousand dollars.
—I have? What do you mean I have, they have, and I have a handful of . . .
—Just preliminary figures yes, of course we can’t put a precise evaluation on the company until recapitalization goes through and the underwriter makes the . . .
—Look, God damn it now look, don’t get me started on this going public again Coen you know what I . . . he paused there pulling off his jacket, the shirt he tucked in behind coming back out with his hand, and he turned to drape it over the back of the chair at his desk where he sat down heavily.
—But I don’t know how else you plan to raise six hundred-odd thousand dollars Mister Angel.
—Well for one thing I told you to look into what we can get for our interest in Nathan Wise there, no reason to hang onto an outfit like that and I never did like the . . .
—I’ve looked into it yes, I think some of the correspondence is right there on the bottom, apparently your lack of ah, enthusiasm is widely shared. From a look at their consolidated statements recently it’s not hard to see why no one’s interested in acquiring it of course, a chronic money loser though considering the nature of their product it’s hardly surprising. I would have thought demand would have evaporated some time ago.
—Well sure, the pill hit them real hard, they just never expected something like that.
—The, pardon?
—The pill all these girls are taking, you read about even twelve-year-old girls on these pills, I read where one of them’s own mother had her own doctor prescribe them.
—Oh I, I see, yes I’m aware this entire pill situation has assumed quite alarming proportions among the ah, the young, though I’m afraid I fail to see precisely how its deleterious effects could extend to something as . . .
—See that’s a good example there at Nathan Wise of old-fashioned management, one quality product that pretty much took over the top of the market so they just stayed with it.
—Yes, I understood they . . .
—Never used rubber or anything coarse like that you know, just these strong real thin sheep membranes.
—Yes I recall Miss ah, the decedent’s sisters mentioning . . .
—The, you mean those two old ladies out there talked to you about this? He drew his hand over his mouth and his cup closer on the desk.—Well. I’d never have thought it.
—Our conversation was, I think I’ve mentioned that it was not the most logical, they seemed to have the impression I was trying to pry into family matters but . . .
—I have to hand it to you Coen, I sure never would have . . .
—As I recall this matter though they appeared to take a good deal of pride in it, the quality aspect you speak of, I remember them mentioning the sheep membranes yes and a senator I believe, from a sheep producing state in the west . . .?
—Yes Billikin or Millikin or something, some old goat that got quite friendly there for a while, but it sure does beat . . . and he brought his paper cup up, and put it down empty.—But this isn’t selling any apples, now look . . . He pulled over a pad and found a blunt pencil,—one way or the other you see twenty of the old man’s shares going for these estate taxes, now where the hell are they going?
—Well, in the very nature of making a public off . . .
—I mean that would be one hell of a big foot for those Jubilee Musical people to get in our door here.
—Unless they did it through a third party though I think it would be possible to get an injunction to prevent it, in view of the longstanding litigation between them and your ah, the de
cedent over these punched forms and the entire concept as it might be held to apply to . . .
—Holes is what it is, a lawsuit over a lot of God damn holes.
—Precisely but of course in the event of an eventual decision supporting the position of the decedent, the ramifications could very well extend far beyond the immediate . . .
—All right but that’s eventual, I want to get back here to right now, I want . . .
—Yes once we’ve resolved the financing I think we can . . .
—And that’s not what’s on my mind right now either, it’s not just the money it’s who the hell’s going to end up running the show here.
—Well as I say, I think any immediate threat by the Jubilee Musical Instrument Company can be effectively dealt with by . . .
—All right then what about the rest of it, now look. He recovered the pad, where a large ellipse had begun to take shape.—Here’s my twenty-three shares here. Here’s this twenty of Stella’s aunts and this seven of her Uncle James, then over here . . .
—Five, yes I find five listed in the name Gibbs, someone named Gibbs, I’d intended to ask you if you . . .
—Wait we’ll get to him, now look, down here is this twenty-five there in the estate after taxes, now . . .
—Speaking frankly Mister Angel I think you can put your mind at rest there, from my dealings to date with this rather ah, this artistic branch of the family, I doubt if there will be much difficulty in establishing your wife as sole heir and with those twenty-five shares and your own twenty-three there should be no . . .
—Well just wait though, just suppose it did come to her and Edward splitting up this twenty-five shares, I’d like to . . .
—That would seem, excuse me for interrupting but that seems extremely remote. This nephew, this nephew Edward has never sent me the signed waiver I requested, I’ve never received the particulars on his birth, I’ve never heard anything from him in fact or even a call from an attorney representing his interests and I can only assume he doesn’t find it worth bothering with, though this rather lofty indifference to money on his part does seem rather ah, exceptional. Of course I did understand from his aunts that his consuming interest is music and artists in these matters are rather notoriously impractical, if I recall the case of . . .