“Well can’t you transfer her to another castle of yours closer to town. Or let me take her off your hands.”
“Good god Schultz. Not on your Nelly.”
“But your Lordship that girl could really go places out in the world. Her fucking blue eyes, her tits. Her waist couldn’t be more than twenty two inches. Jesus even what I can see of her ankles. She’s a real dream. Unspoilt and charming. I want her for the chorus line of the show.”
“By god Schultz, you have your nerve. And I suppose she is to be taught her footwork down your town house cellars with all your other teeming screaming au pairs awaiting their turn to be kicked out into the inclemencies of the London streets.”
“Holy shit you guys make me out to be some kind of roué or something.”
“Ah Schultz of course his Royal Grace does not want to incarcerate a lovely lady. But sometimes I do seriously wonder if we are ever going to succeed in making you understand the difficulties, the frustrations and yes, I dare to say it, the thankless heartbreak of this land owning way of life.”
“I understand it, don’t worry. I’m right here remember getting a front row view of you guys. In all your rural frustration and heartbreak. Hey Jesus your Lordship, how many places have you got like this.”
“Ah Schultz I hope you will not take offense, but on such an agreeable afternoon one prefers not to contemplate such matters.”
“Well let me tell you I’ll take one of them off your hands anytime.”
On this last evening, dinner arrived in four courses. Batters with his tiny hand claps as footmen swept in and out. Asparagus soup and sherry. Trout and Chablis. Partridge and Clos de Tart. Trifle and champagne. Vintage port and cigars. And repairing to the billiard room Schultz got directions to go for a pee.
“Turn right. Turn left. Third door on your right Schultz. You will find my grandfather’s reserved water closet. It requires some effort to lift the seat but you will be rewarded by an exquisitely decorated Meissen toilet bowl.”
Schultz these seconds later, face white as a sheet, bursting into the room. His prick hanging out of his fly. Cobwebs all over him, head to foot.
“Hey Jesus christ. I opened up the fucking door you told me. And right as I’m going to piss I lift up the fucking seat the light goes off. And down from the ceiling behind me drops a fucking whole human skeleton dangling glowing in the dark.”
Binky holding his stomach lurching about tripping over his cue. And his Lordship knocking over a pole screen as he too fell back laughing.
“Hey you guys did this. Deliberately. Just to ruin my peace of mind. Holy shit, look at me and you’re just laughing.”
“Ah Schultz we are looking and I regret laughing and I do apologise. It’s an old joke my grandfather was fond of playing. To jolt guests out of their drunkenness.”
“Well I pissed all over myself for christ’s sake. I could have had a heart attack. Jesus your Lordship, you know sometimes I think you’re highly irresponsible.”
Schultz, his nerves calmed, having been personally conducted by his Lordship to another water closet sans skeletons. Now set out in boots and tuxedo for his Lordship’s favourite sport, badger watching. The three of them making their way down a hillside through the forest paths to stand silently and motionlessly in a dank vale, chillingly waiting for one of these nightly creatures to come crawling by in the moonlight.
“Holy jumping christ the fucking thing is stepping on me.”
“Damn you Schultz don’t scream and run. Trust you to ruin what promised to be a most memorable night of badger watching.”
“Holy fuck you already have me a nervous wreck scaring the shit out of me in the crapper now you want me to let wild animals maybe bite me.”
Departing Londonwards that Tuesday after lunch. A gentle rain out of heavy grey clouds. His Lordship’s faithful retinue lined up to say goodbye. Umbrellas held over their heads entering the motor car. Roxana peeking round from an upstairs window. Schultz having deposited five pounds on his dresser with a note.
Dear Roxana,
You gorgeous creature. Now don’t forget what I told you. Give me a tinkle as soon as the spirit takes you to flee Alcatraz up to the big smoke.
S. F. Schultz
At some speed the two limousines motored along the winding byways of his Lordship’s estate, until the skies clearing, the sun shining, they arrived down a long straight stretch of narrow road lined with lime trees. His Lordship busily leafing through sheafs of catalogues in preparation to attend an auction scheduled for three in Bond Street.
“Hey where the hell are we going Binky.”
“To the railway station, Schultz.”
“What for.”
“The cars Schultz will go by road and we and the stags will proceed by rail.”
On the steps of the little station with a sign reading Nectarine Castle, a gold braided station master bowing to his Lordship alighting. Splendidly attired porters rushed to unload the stags. The monstrously long train for London sticking out down the track. Steam pouring out of its throbbing hissing locomotive.
“Hey really what is this all about Binky. Is this his Lordship’s own private station.”
“This Schultz is. By his Royal Grace’s request the London train stops here. And you must be absolutely confidentially quiet about it. Some people of course don’t like it one bit. I dare say it’s envy. Rather an unpleasant amount of that about these days. But it is after all, his Royal Grace’s land the train crosses.”
“This is fucking too much. But I love it. Holy shit look at that. A red fucking carpet. I can’t wait to get my feet on it.”
“Schultz hold fast.”
“What for.”
“Well as a matter of fact a small ceremony accompanies his Royal Grace’s mounting the train.”
“Wow. This I got to see.”
The station master and porters now lined up as his Lordship with tiny frequent nods of his head proceeded between them on the red carpet. Followed immediately by a widely grinning Schultz who gave all the watching eyes from the train windows his personal Woonsocket hi sign.
A small panelled drawing room inside the train. A side table covered with the day’s newspapers. Schultz plopping himself on a sofa chair and staring into space. Binky smoking a cigarette and taking in the passing acres of Nectarine Castle. His Lordship smilingly contemplating Schultz.
“Ah my dear Schultz, you really will now be glad to get back to the familiar comforting ways of the city. Tell me. What’s on your mind.”
“Well aside from slowly tearing my appetites away from all this privileged bliss and back to attend to the problems of the production, I’m thinking christ you guys. I never know what’s going to happen next.”
And nothing
Sacred or
Profane
Would surprise
Me
15
Schultz, his Gladstone bag toted behind him, popped up his town house steps in Arabesque Street. Pressing his key in his door absolutely restored to its previous undamaged gleaming green condition. In the hall, the smell of fresh paint. The painting of a rural scene back on the wall. Schultz lifting his case up on the newly repaired chair. Standing and listening. And suddenly began to run. Up the stairs. Past a new bust of Justinian back on his plinth again. Towards the sound of bath water pouring into a tub.
“What the fuck are you doing here.”
“O darling please don’t shout. Where have you been. I’ve been worried sick here waiting for you. I’m here because I love you. I love you deeply darling.”
“You love me. You’re worried sick. You’re waiting for me. I’ll tell you what you’re doing. You’re suing me. Do you think I’m out of my mind. Letting someone sit using my hot water in my bathtub while they’re suing me. I saw you disappear with that big fat fucking black King.”
“Darling he wants to invest money in your show.”
“What, are you kidding. The closest that big black cunt’s ever been to showbizz is
a fertility dance.”
“I did it for you. Can’t you see.”
“What did you do for me. Let him shove up his big black prick.”
“Darling you’re as crude and rude as he was impeccable and charming.”
“Impeccable. Charming. The fucker is cutting everybody’s balls off except his own all over Africa.”
“Well I speak only for myself. And I don’t know a thing about his balls. He is one of the most wonderful gentlemen I’ve ever met. He knows how to treat a woman. To make her feel marvellous. To make her feel wanted, loved, adored.”
“Come on honey. You get your fucking teddy bear there sitting on my crapper and you just go back and swing from his big black prick then. Out.”
“He’s gone. He’s gone back to Africa. And darling nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened huh. Only that you left me sticking out like a sore thumb nearly getting murdered. While you were eating grapes he peeled. And flashing your ass around dancing your head off with him.”
“Darling none of that would happen if we were married. It’s not my fault that I’m beautiful. And that men want me. Don’t you see that.”
“I see plenty. Especially the fucking damage you did in this house.”
“Well darling the damage you did to me. Doesn’t that occur to you. I’ve been hours at the dentist. And everything is fixed in the house.”
“Only by a fucking miracle. O.K. come on. Out.”
“You’re staring at my body.”
“Cover it up.”
“I think you’re jealous. And in fact I have a standing invitation to His Imperial Highness’s palace.”
“You mean to his tree hut in the jungle. With about three hundred other pieces of ass he’s got collected waiting around powdering their fannies behind the foliage.”
“You are jealous. Please hand me that towel and avert your eyes. And get out while I dress.”
“I’m not getting out of my own bathroom while you throw another fucking coma as soon as my back’s turned.”
“For your information I won’t in future need you or your bathroom. His Imperial Highness’s London embassy is available to me any time I wish. And any time I care to go to Africa a private plane will be sent for me. I’ll have a palace all to myself. With all the eunuch servants I want.”
“Here’s the fucking towel. Now while my balls are still intact let me tell you something. You get dried. You get dressed. You get down those stairs. And you. Honey. Get the fuck out. And stay out. And leave the keys to this house behind you. And now stop the crying.”
“I won’t.”
“Where’s my mail.”
“Your mail is down in the kitchen. I tried to do everything to help you. Don’t you see that. In your stubbornness and meanness. And a Mr. Magillacurdy called. He left a whole new script for you he said. And did I do anything. With that opportunity. When he’s beautiful handsome and so poetic. No. I didn’t.”
“Honey I wasn’t there. Besides you’re such an actress that nobody could tell you weren’t fucking your head off all afternoon. Just like you could have been doing with those vine swinging African apes.”
“And what would you care anyway if I were.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“For your information those vine swingers as you call them are potentates and all products of England’s very best schools. While you’re merely from Woonsocket.”
“Hey honey, get dressed. And for your information, Woonsocket is the best fucking place to be out of on the face of the earth. Plus don’t forget I spent time in Brooklyn.”
“How could I forget.”
“O.K. Duchess, just without a tearful ceremony get out of my life. I’m going to give you ten minutes.”
Schultz turning. A long moaning wail erupting as he walked back out into the hall. Reaching the door of his bedroom. My sweating palm turning the crystal nob. Big Ben booming. More sobs rending Belgravia. In spite of everything sensible my mind is telling me. I’ve got a hard on. Which fucking human nature uses to pole vault me out of old disasters into newer bigger ones. Like already hit my father with my mother. And made his neck go all stringy with tension. My uncle dropped dead of heart attack in the bathroom. My aunt hysterical looking at his inert heap. If this keeps up. Could be me in a few more years. An ambulance came to collect him. The guy with the stretcher says don’t worry lady this happens all the time, he’s the fourth I collected since lunch. Unbelievable. Half hour after the most wonderful weekend. And I got fucking death all of a sudden on my mind. As well as her luscious bloody tits. Which I would love to fuck off her at the rate of one semi quaver per second. Throw her gorgeous body backwards into the tub. With a splash. Jump right in on top in the suds. Holy Jesus what was that. That was a splash. Or the whole fucking bathroom has fallen through the ceiling.
Schultz running back. His red silk polka dot tie in his hand. The room empty. The carpet soaked again. Jesus where is the bitch. Shit she’s under the water. What is she trying to do to me. Isn’t it enough she’s already given me enemy microbes up my prick. Now eyes closed she wants to let her hands float from her wrists and put bubbles coming up from her nose and mouth. I knew it. I should have stayed in the country. A cowhand on his Lordship’s estate. With a life of peace and dignity. Instead of a drowning on my hands.
Schultz tugging and lifting Pricilla. Draping her by the white glistening arms out of her freshly shaved armpits, over the edge of the pink bathtub. Water dripping from the curled long black strands of hair. The phone ringing. Holy shit. Hollywood. It’s about nine a.m. out on the coast. The call I missed last time this bitch had my life in turmoil.
Schultz pinching Pricilla hard on her arse. Test her for life. She twitched. She’s alive. Playing her usual death scene she does to perfection. Boy should fairness ever sneak back into the world, you madam, had better watch out.
Schultz wiping his hands on a towel, necktie flying, running down the stairs three at a time. And carramba. Crashing headlong into the table at the bottom. The phone bouncing on the floor. Scrambling on his knees to snatch up the instrument to his mouth and ear. Fucking phone. If it’s the one last thing I ever do. I’m going to grab you. Jesus before the show is even previewed they could be offering me a hundred grand option for the movie rights. Act like I heard a better offer from New York and be tough from the first syllable. Like Mr. Schultz is busy long distance on the other line but let’s hear the deal.
“Yeah.”
“Hello. Hello.”
“Yeah who is it.”
“Hey what’s going on. All the banging. Is this you Sigmund. It’s Al.”
“Holy shit you. I nearly killed myself just now coming to the phone.”
“Sigmund I lost my temper the other day. I’m calling you up to apologise. Tried to get you the whole weekend. I mean two old friends. It shouldn’t be like that between them. I’m dropping the case.”
“Yeah, I’m listening.”
“But Sigmund I want to be sincere with you. I want to give you some good advice. The girl loves you.”
“Holy shit. Not this subject again.”
“Sure this subject. The girl loves you.”
“You should tell me she washes my socks and shirts. I’d be impressed.”
“Look the girl was seven years old when her father jumped.”
“I’m expecting a long distance call from Hollywood Al and you phone to tell me someone jumped. What the hell are you talking about.”
“Look Sigmund. I’m telling you this. Because it’s serious. He put on his overcoat, his hat. Took his brief case and his umbrella. He ran, Sigmund, across the floor of his office.”
“Hey wait a second Al there’s a knock on the door.”
Schultz peeking out the open crack of door. The sky darkened. And in a gust of rainy wind, two green uniformed delivery gentlemen. Each with a stacked armful of cellophane covered red roses.
“This is Four Arabesque Street, sir.”
“That’s righ
t. Says so on the door. Hey what’s all this.”
“Sir there’s a whole van load.”
“I’m not paying for these. You got the wrong address.”
“This is the address. And they’re all paid for sir. You want them in the hall.”
“Holy christ. I’m on the phone. O.K. put them in the hall. O.K. Al I’m back. Where were we. Before the roses arrived. Good title for a song for the show. O yeah. Pricilla’s father. Running across the floor of his office. And yeah I know Al, exactly what’s coming next. He took a flying leap right out through the window. Fifteen stories up over Madison Avenue. And killed three innocent people when he landed on them in the street.”
“Hey come on, what are you, a soulless evil son of a bitch. Using that tone of voice. Plus it happened from twenty stories up over Lexington Avenue. And he killed only one single person.”
“So even in death he was a conservationist. Or maybe vaudeville missed one of its biggest stars. And with the two tons he was married to he could have been a double act.”
“Hey Sigmund. One second. Do you mind. Just one second. I’m doing what I’m doing. As a friend. And for both of you. Do you want me to get angry again.”
“Sure get angry Al. But you blow hot and cold. One second I’m the biggest son of a bitch going and you’re going to sue the shit out of me. Next you’re telling me the excuses some bitch has who’s dedicated already to destroying my life.”
“Don’t you understand. The girl wants to get married. She needs the security and protection of matrimony. That’s why she does those things.”
“Shit she needs protection. I’m standing here getting buried in roses. I need protection.”
“So you should get married. At your age too.”
“Hold it Al, hold it. I got to stop these fucking roses coming in. Hey you guys. Stop. That’s enough. No more. Give the rest of them to your relatives. I’m locking the door. Back to you Al. So now what’s fresh.”
“Sigmund it was her who pleaded with me we should be friends again.”