Schultz

  The two figures stopping on the corner of Deanery and South Audley Street. Binky bowing his head. His eyes cast down on the evening pavement. Taxis throbbing by. Under a cooler and clearing sky.

  “Holy shit, Binky, you’re not serious, you’re crying.”

  “Yes I am Schultz.”

  “Jesus not about that, are you, that’s nothing to cry about.”

  “Schultz, I’m afraid it is. Something to cry about. I was extremely hurt. I would never let England go down the drain. And I shall now use one of your silk handkerchiefs. So kindly given.”

  To wipe

  Away

  The tears

  I shall

  Cry when

  It does

  29

  Schultz, hands plunged in pockets, strolling up Park Lane. Whores whispering hello dearie. On this cool Saturday evening. Through the revolving doors. Collecting his key. Get a paper. All the sweat. And in the end. The one who gains anything out of it. Is the telephone company.

  Schultz standing in his silent hotel sitting room. Touching the petals of a vase of flowers. Going to stare out the windows. Jesus this is one Saturday when I’m all alone by myself. Woke this morning putting my wrist watch on, and found it felt heavy on my arm. Rule eight. Don’t sink any deeper when each day something brand new and horrible happens. After such an anxious afternoon in a deserted office. But christ his Lordship, fighting like a trooper after everybody else had left. Even went to buy a batch of tickets himself. The son of a bitch has guts for an army. Sitting there in his shirt sleeves calculating the gross.

  “Schultz by my calculations and estimations, should another twenty four seats be bought we should make it with eighteen or so pounds to spare.”

  “Jesus your Lordship christ we can’t risk it. We got to buy more tickets.”

  “Schultz enough suspicion has already been aroused which could mean all this money and heartache has been in vain. Gayboy and his acolytes are already on the alert for any misdeed.”

  “Gayboy’s a stupid ass. Who can’t read the fucking clause of a contract.”

  “My dear Schultz many a stupid ass has gone to a smart lawyer. We must just gently nudge the gross over.”

  “O Jesus. I can’t stand it. We could be a quid, a mere quid under.”

  Schultz now on this green hotel carpet. Pacing back and forth. Shaking clenched fists up and down. Biting his knuckles. Staring at the passing floor. Shit I need distraction. Need to refresh the force which used to be in me. This is like the hours before being taken to the electric chair. Walking my last mile in this room. I got to do something. Jesus it’s like there’s nobody left to reject me. If only I could get a rolling head start I could escape this spiritual agony. Farting is such foul sorrow. Maybe that’s what I did wrong. Last time I left her.

  Schultz dialling on the telephone. This now familiar Knightsbridge number. And listening to Lulu’s abrupt cold words.

  “No. I’m sorry, I’m busy.”

  “Hey honey, what’s the matter, you’ve been busy, busy, night after god damn night.”

  “That’s correct I have.”

  “Well what’s the matter don’t you want to see me.”

  “Perhaps one afternoon for tea as an acquaintance, yes. At the moment as a lover, no.”

  “Hey what’s suddenly the matter.”

  “I simply like a change of man. That’s all. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. But you know you must easily be the most unglamorous person who has ever lived.”

  “Honey that’s one characteristic I don’t mind having.”

  “Well, at the moment I prefer a man who is all brawn and no brain. Who beats me. You have no idea how dull even the most interesting men get. Like a lump of pudding. Especially when they lie around luxuriating in one’s life. Besides, I think you’re looking for a mother. But you should go home and dominate your wife.”

  “Well fuck you honey.”

  Schultz slamming down the phone. Jesus what did I do now. That fucking bitch has problems they haven’t even invented yet. She’s viciously ambitious only I don’t know what the fuck for. Her principles last for an entire three hours. She’s a moral acrobat. She wants to be a faithful loving girl friend one minute, and a nutty nymph beat with whips the next. Dragging big brawny oafs off building sites by the hair. And bringing me a plate of oeufs en gelee in bed. Then kicking me in the teeth, by throwing the whole tray over me. Saying I’m so sorry I simply had to do that. Holy shit. She just thinks it funny ruining all the bed clothes. Well fuck her. Spoiled god damn aristocratic women. Nearly as bad as my own fucking wife. His Lordship says I should apply the statute of limitations on people’s misdeeds. Forgive them after a six year period. Jesus I’d make it sixty. And if ever after today I’m sailing again on easy street. No bitch I promise you is going to give me any lip. God, my balls are exploding. I could have really screwed her Venus de Milo body tonight. When all this time I’m feeling the only thing left to do is die and forget. When I go into bankruptcy. I want to go smothered in a big cloud of Rolls-Royce petrol fumes. Or escape to Jerusalem. Suffer my last agony in the garden of Gethsemane. Or on the frozen tundra with icy winds of loneliness wailing around you. Holy shit. Al. Maybe I at least should go see the guy. There’s nothing anyway better to do. Take the flowers there out of the vase. Buy some chocolates. Christ Binky has me still shook up. I never know when that fucker is serious or playacting. A minute and five yards later further on down the street, he was saying.

  “Schultz you do not understand England do you, in spite of our having lost our Empire we do still hold our heads up with a measure of dignity if not pride.”

  Schultz with a towel drying off the stems of the flowers. Wrapping them up in the morning’s newspaper. Now comb my hair. Before I start crying myself right now in this lonely room. Rule nine. I don’t know what the fuck it should be. I’ll think about it. Maybe it should be don’t ring people up. If I call Al now, he’ll slam the phone down.

  Schultz through the evening gowned stirrings. Popping on foot out the door of the Dorchester. Lugging a box of chocolates and bouquet of flowers. Strolling an hour aimlessly through the streets. Past two whores tearing each other’s hair out. One kicking the other in tits when she was down. And a pimp rushing up to save his merchandise. Everybody’s got problems. But fucking suddenly I got no one. I could go back to the theatre and give these to the Debutant. Only I just couldn’t stand the box office tension of tonight.

  Schultz in an unfamiliar street by a post office. Flagging a taxi and throbbing back across the town. Alighting near this tall block of flats. Count two three floors down from the top. On the twenty second floor. Lights on. Al’s in. That high living fucker. Up there in tax dodgers towers.

  Schultz heading down an incline to the garage. Spying the concierge up in through the window behind a large counter. Got to get in without being announced. Through this car park basement door. Give Al a big surprise. Before he has a chance to say drop dead. Jesus, we both come from a consumer society. Encapsulated on wheels. Daily fanned by propaganda. To buy buy. To keep the whole heap glowing. And the tyres rolling and rolling. And that’s what I got to keep doing.

  Schultz ascending to the ground entrance floor. Elevator door opening. The grey carpets, beige walls in the lobby of this palm festooned building. Swarthy guy and a dazzling girl get in. The lift gliding upwards in the sky. Christ that son of a bitch has just farted. And holy shit Al could punch me in the god damn face right at the door. Duck as I reach out to shake his hand. And shout to remind him how he always wants people to love each other. Can never understand how such a nice guy can be such a stupid ass. What a place to be coming. On this most crucial fatal evening.

  Schultz emerging on this landing. Four directions to go. Al’s door is southeast. Where he likes to look down his big long celebrity nose over the best part of London. Get my foot ready to stick in the door when he tries to slam it in my face. Jesus he can be such an inadvertent fucking show off. Last time we came
out of this building together, his chauffeur brought up from the garage his great big long black seven passenger limousine. Al looking down from the front steps annoyed. Saying, no, not that car, the other one. The chauffeur returning a minute later in his sky blue convertible Rolls-Royce. And Al, now getting up his phony blood pressure shouting, no, no, not that car, the Aston, the Aston.

  Schultz in the foyer pressing the bell. A smell of cooking. Christ mushrooms. Jesus maybe now I’m busting in on a dinner party. Couldn’t be. There’s a scent of garlic in the air. Sends Al always hysterical. About how his breath could smell. At his age he should instead be hysterical about how his prick could stay limp. If he doesn’t eat wheat germ. Feet approaching. Better now step back. Let the first roundhouse right fly harmlessly over my head.

  The click of the lock turning. Which stops turning. A female voice. A tremor of caution.

  “Who is it please.”

  “A friend, open up.”

  Door coming ajar a fraction. The side of a face and a kindly soft eye peeking out. The door opening wide.

  “O goodness it’s you, Mr. Schultz.”

  “Yeah me, how are you.”

  “I’m fine. How are you.”

  “Can I come in.”

  “O sorry, yes of course, it’s simply that I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just calling out of the blue.”

  “Please, do come in.”

  In this white walled hallway. Schultz smilingly handing over his flowers and box of chocolates.

  “These are for you. I only just popped by to see Al a second. I was in the district.”

  “What beautiful flowers. And chocolates. Well dear me, how nice. These are lovely. Thank you.”

  “Hey is Al still sore at me. And by the way, nothing is good enough for you honey.”

  “Al isn’t here.”

  “When will he be back.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Holy shit honey, put your foot down, don’t let the guy go out and not know when he’s coming back.”

  “He’s in New Orleans. He left yesterday.”

  “Holy shit. New Orleans. The son of a bitch never told me. Sorry that’s just my friendly term for Al. What was he angry.”

  “Well that wasn’t the reason he went to New Orleans. He’s giving a concert. Please, won’t you come in. And sit down. A minute.”

  “Well honey, I’d like to stay for hours but this is a little awkward, Al and I left each other on kind of bad terms, maybe you heard.”

  “He did say, he thought you were being difficult.”

  “Holy shit honey he must have said more than that.”

  “He did. Yes.”

  “Well I’m hearing from everywhere all over this town what a shit I am. How touchy, how impossible. Nobody can deal with me. People threatening to sue. But I get the productions on. And so help me god this one’s closing over my dead body.”

  “Please, just excuse me for a moment. I’ve got something on the stove.”

  Louella turning out the door. Schultz getting to his feet and crossing the long green carpeted drawing room. Full of musical instruments, record players, speakers. A black baby grand piano. In an arched foyer the walls covered with photographs of Al with celebrity after celebrity. Singers, actresses, presidents and kings. Schultz looking out the large picture windows southwesterly over London. The lights sparkling in a great magic carpet of roofs and buildings. An aircraft slowly wheeling in over the West End, lights flashing, and long beams cutting through the sky from its wings. The streams of traffic pouring along the boulevards around the park. Rear lights red in one direction and approaching white in the other. Christ I could be happy up here like this. Looking out all over London. All those shrill emotional shrieks you hear. Are just cries about money. That a place like this costs.

  “Can I get you a drink, Mr. Schultz.”

  “Jesus, I better not really stay, no kidding. Al with his penchant for paranoia would get the wrong fucking idea I’m telling you.”

  “Well it’s entirely up to you. I have some very marvellous sherry. Awfully nutty and rich as well as being medium dry.”

  “You suddenly convinced me honey. I’ll have a sherry.”

  Louella going to a cabinet along the wall. Opening up the polished walnut doors. A whole bar. Bottles reflected in the mirrors. A stainless steel sink. Al’s every modern fucking convenience laid on. Like this wonderful girl. In her same quiet clothes. Her flat heeled shoes. Brown tweed skirt and green cashmere sweater. Her legs could be better. Tiny bit heavy about the hips. Jesus everything about her could be improved. But then you look at her. And Jesus, it’s magic. She smiles for one second and you think, holy christ that’s just the way that girl ought to be.

  “Jesus honey, I’m no alcoholic. That’s a big sherry.”

  “Well I have heard of all your troubles you know. That you’ve been having over your show.”

  “Yeah. Cliff hanging.”

  “Which by the way I thought was one of the most entertaining I’ve ever seen.”

  “Honey. Thanks. And let me tell you in the absolute silence up here in this, what do you call them eyrie or something, where eagles get to, way up on inaccessible mountain cliff sides, safe from predators. Well let me tell you that this sherry and just you sitting there really hits the spot. Hey what do you do, just here all by yourself up here like this.”

  “O I read, sew, cook, clean and polish. Watch television. Write letters. Listen to music, eat, drink.”

  “And wait.”

  “Yes.”

  “Till Al gets back.”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus honey, old as he is, he’s absolutely in love with you.”

  “I don’t consider Al old. He’s extremely young in mind and vigorous in spirit.”

  “Sure. Sure. Right. Al’s a bombshell. But shit, you know, this is the first time I’ve ever really been in close contact with you. I see what he means. I wasn’t believing all his recent guff he’s been spouting about love. But Al, I can see has finally made it. With obviously one wonderful girl.”

  “O please. You’re exaggerating. I’d better put on some music.”

  “Honey you’re blushing.”

  “Of course I am. What sort of music would you like to hear.”

  “Hey why not play Al’s Palm Beach Concerto.”

  Schultz stretching out on the couch. Head deep in a pillow. Sipping his sherry with a bent elbow. Louella serving squares of toast, pâté, olives and fresh celery.

  “Hey Jesus I don’t want to delve into personal histories but how did you and Al ever meet.”

  “Well as a matter of fact right in the next building to where you fell. He came to the office where I was working to see my boss. Looking for money for you and the prosecution, O dear I mean production.”

  “Honey. Prosecution it could have been.”

  “I was the receptionist.”

  “Holy cow.”

  “He did rather make an entrance but he was so absolutely charming.”

  “But Jesus, honey, a young girl like you. I mean Al. He’s even too old to be your grandfather. You should be settling down with some guy your own age. What good is Al to you in a few years pushing him around in an oxygen tent over a wheelchair when he could blow himself up lighting a cigar.”

  “That’s mean. Al is quite robust. He does have to be careful but he’s one of the sweetest kindest and most thoughtful people I have ever met. He’s always been perfectly honest. He said all he could offer me was the rest of his life, for just a few years of mine.”

  “And honey, a beautiful place to live.”

  “Yes that’s true. And everything I wanted. That I would meet everyone or anyone I wanted to meet. That I would be at the center of the arts.”

  “Holy cow the son of a bitch, he gave you that snow job. Wow.”

  “That’s not a snow job. Are you attacking him. Because of what’s happened.”

  “I’d never attack Al.
I love him for Christ’s sake. That’s why I’m here. I really love him. He is. He’s one of the most wonderful people in the world. I’m the first to admit it. He’s saved my life a hundred times. And ruined it completely just once. But you. You’re a flower. Just blossomed.”