“Al’s been as good as a father to me.”
“He’s been a father to me too honey. But Jesus I don’t wrap up my life in his. He’s got hundreds of women. Real hustler types. Who just go along for the ride. That a nice quality girl like you is up here all lonely by yourself, just waiting for Al to croak, that’s crazy.”
“I’m not waiting for him to croak. That makes me really angry. You know Mr. Schultz.”
“Sigmund for Christ’s sake, call me.”
“Well at this point I think it had better be Mr. Schultz. You know I really don’t understand you. From the impression I get, you must dislike and perhaps even despise women.”
“What. Who told you that. Al.”
“Not in so many words. But one did get that overall impression. And here you are now trying to advise me, a female, of supposed harm I may come to at the hands of someone I’m deeply and terribly attached to.”
“Attached. So you admit you don’t love him.”
“Mr. Schultz. I hardly think this conversation is appropriate. How on earth did we get on to it.”
“You’re right. Christ. I’m I guess hysterical over any subject especially Al these days.”
“And how are things faring for you at the theatre.”
‘Tonight’s business tells all. It could be the end. Or the beginning. I’m just waiting. I’ll know about nine forty five.”
“Please. Why don’t you stay. And have dinner. It’s nearly ready. If you like garlic and mushrooms. And steak. Salad. And Al, I’m sure won’t mind if I open up one of his burgundys. You know how he absolutely adores wine. He’s got this Bonnes Mares which he absolutely insists is one of the great wines of the last thirty years. That’s another thing he’s taught me. Wines, I’ve learned so much from him.”
“We all learn from Al, honey and I’m listening like I’m hearing for the first time in life something I want to hear.”
“Then you’ll stay.”
“With the utmost pleasure. But Jesus don’t ever, whatever you do, ever tell Al, for Christ’s sake. I think his paranoia is already dangerously near the edge.”
“Mr. Schultz honestly. I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Al is no more paranoiac than anyone. And I’m free absolutely to do whatever I want, when I want and how I want. On Al’s insistence. Al has never once shown any sign of the slightest concern.”
“O no, you watch. Don’t kid yourself honey. We all admit for the hundredth time that Al’s completely wonderful, understanding, all those things. But that fucker is not above trying to drag something like you right into the grave with him.”
“I do think it’s time we really did change the subject. And I get you another drink. And I go get things off the stove to the table.”
“Let me help honey.”
“No. You just sit happily, I just hand things through the hatchway.”
At a long teak table. Set with sparkling glasses and looking out over all of London. The wine fragrant soft and delicate. The filet mignon tender and blood sweet rare. The garlic scented mushrooms aromatic. The salad crisp and fresh. Wholemeal bread, brie and camembert. A bowl of fresh sliced peaches, muffins and whipped cream. And an ancient crème de tête, whole god damn tarnished gold, ice chilled bottle of Al’s Chateau d’Yquem.
Schultz sitting staring down the table’s gleaming woodgrain. Candlelight sparkling on the glass and reflecting in the windows. This warm pleasant marvellous soul soothing creature. Jesus I keep wanting just to go down the other end of the table and touch her.
“My god honey, this is the best god damn meal I’ve had in centuries. So this is how Al privately lives.”
“You do have Al on the brain don’t you.”
“I have his Chateau d’Yquem on the brain, honey. Never in all my fucking life have I ever, ever tasted anything like this. It makes even Al’s Palm Beach Concerto sound good. And Al’s new toupee look good.”
“God you can be cruel, can’t you.”
“Hey I’m just joyously kidding. Honest. But Al, he’s going to have a fit. This bottle of Chateau d’Yquem is one of the best years of all time. Imagine the grapes ripened for this twelve years before I was even born. Momma meeo. You drinking it, is one thing. But Jesus, me drinking it. With you up here alone. Wow. That’s another.”
“O please, can’t we talk of something else.”
“I’m sorry honey I can’t get off the subject. But shit sure, fuck Al, and maybe I’ll try one of Al’s best Havana cigars. What the hell, like you said, you’re a free agent. What time is it. My god. I got to ring the theatre. Can you imagine. Here I am sitting here feeling so god damn wonderful that I completely forgot. For five minutes that is. O Jesus honey. This is the phone call. To end all phone calls. Christ I don’t know if I’ve even got the nerve, maybe I should leave it till tomorrow. But if I do that, I could never sleep a wink. Which I don’t do anyway.”
“Do it now.”
“You really think so. I should.”
“Yes. I do.”
“O.K. I’ll do it, just for you. I’ll do it. Spin the cylinder and put the gun right up to my head.”
Schultz taking a swig of d’Yquem. And sucking in air between his lips. Folding his napkin. Pushing back his chair. Crossing silently on the soft deep carpet and picking up the gold plated telephone.
“Mr. Schultz here.”
“Good evening, Mr. Schultz. I’m afraid it’s bad news.”
“O christ.”
“We’ve just completed tabulation. And are recheck ing. And it’s been so close.”
“How close.”
“Well, we’ll know exactly how close in just a minute. I’m really sorry. I really am. It deserved to keep the theatre. Tonight’s audience just loved it.”
“Thanks.”
The phone dropping out of Schultz’s fist. His knees buckling. A groaning great sigh as he reached out to put his hand supporting on the wall and began to stumble backwards. Louella rushing up from the table. Grabbing his arm by the elbow. Putting her hand up supporting his back as he collapsed slowly on the couch.
“Dear Mr. Schultz. You poor darling, you poor darling, are you alright. I’m so sorry it’s bad news. I really am.”
“I’m O.K. I’m O.K. You’d think after all these years I’d get used to it. But it gets harder and harder to take.”
“Let me get something cool for your head.”
Louella passing and reaching for the suspended phone, swinging back and forth hanging down from the table. Lifting it to put it back in its cradle sitting on the side of the polished work bench festooned with electronics. Louella holding up the telephone to her ear. A voice sound coming out.
“Mr. Schultz, Mr. Schultz, are you there. Are you there.”
“Yes he’s here.”
“Would you put him back on please.”
Schultz closing his eyes, shaking his head back and forth, and feebly waving his hand.
“I’m sorry but Mr. Schultz, can’t at this moment.”
“Well this is the Regent box office and would you tell him please that he made it. By exactly eighteen pounds, thirteen shillings.”
Louella putting her hand over the speaker, turning to Schultz, a smile on her face.
“Sigmund, they say you’ve made it.”
Schultz’s ears twitching and straightening. Eyes opening, lids crashing up into the eyebrows. Blood pouring back into the arms. Schultz catapulting himself up off the couch. His feet taking a flying leap across the floor. Grabbing the phone from Louella.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Schultz.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve made it.”
“Holy cow. Holy cow. Holy fucking cow. Sorry about the language. Thanks a lot.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Schultz we were nearly finished and I thought the figure would surely be under. But we’ve just this moment finished double checking. And you have made it. And the advance is excellent.”
“Thanks. Jesus thanks. From the bottom of
my heart.”
Schultz hanging up the phone. Holding his arms out wide. Louella hesitating. And then stepping forth in a smile. Putting her head on his shoulder. Schultz hugging her.
“Honey, no shit. I swear. I’ve just crawled up on the beach. And you’re standing here. And I don’t know what the fuck I’m ever going to do without you. Not being with me for the rest of my fucking life. So help me god. I love you.”
And it’s
Goodbye
To diamonds
And lingerie
And hello
To enjoying
Life
To the fucking
Full
30
“My fucking god. So this is serenity.”
Schultz lying propped up by the linen swansdown pillows. In the potentate sized bed. A breakfast tray across his belly. Staring out into the passing clouds and heavens. Soft guitar music. The sound of water pouring in the tub in the mirrored walled bathroom beyond the door. The distant steady roaring hum of the city below. Blue and white Meissen plate of sausages, pancakes and maple syrup. Jams and honey. Butter, hot rolls and croissants. A jug of coffee. All the morning’s newspapers. And Louella. There standing looking down. In her dressing gown. After thirteen hours of sleeping. With bouts of solid insane fucking in between.
“Are you alight, can I get you anything else Sigmund.”
“Alright, are you kidding. I’m wonderful. Fucking wonderful. I’m just borrowing these sunglasses of Al’s.”
“I’m just running my bath.”
“Hey just open that dressing gown. O christ close it. My tray is going upwards on a hydraulic lift.”
Louella stepping in the bathroom. Steam coming out the white door just ajar. A shelf full of model replicas of Al’s cars. Beyond sliding doors, Al’s three hundred suits and hundred and fifty pairs of shoes. If only they weren’t all in such bad taste I could get outfitted while Al’s away. Jesus this is really waking up to living. To a whole new ball game. After striking out for eight innings. And in the ninth. Whamo bammo. I belt a fucking home run over the bleachers with bases loaded. Or said like his Lordship might say. Ah, an agreeable sup, sucking snipe brains out of their skulls, after a long fatiguing journey, don’t you think. The British are always saying don’t you think. But I love the sound of his Lordship’s voice when I asked for a beer at his club. Schultz I deeply regret to say that it is insufferably improper to look for beer at one’s better clubs. Christ now I can walk up Fifth Avenue in ecstasy. Looking for beer anywhere. And no longer looking for ass everywhere. Last night nearly died with only seconds to spare before I got the good news. One thing I don’t remember how to do anymore, is to die gracefully. Lulu staring at me when we were last in bed. After a fuck. Telling me I was smug and patronizing and looked like a corpse. Well fuck you honey. Because, here I am. Anything but. Sigmund Franz Isadore Schultz. No longer not all alone and ignored, having thoroughly lost the race for prestige and success. There he is folks limping but alive crossing over the finish line. A fucking god damn winner. The only thing that can ever ruin me now is my next six flops. But always in bliss, something happens. You get cheated, short changed and reminded again of the world. Once love is over it conveniently turns to hate. Holy shit. Al maybe he won’t take it like a man. At his age he’s desperate enough to come looking for me with a gun. With everything around here in his personal life showing symptoms of him being super stupid rich. Christ I’d do it. I’d murder Al with my bare hands. She’s the first woman I’ve ever met worth killing for. In a day or two. I’m going to be in Prague. Give her time to unload Al. I knew the moment I clapped eyes on her on opening night. This girl and I. Meant for each other. There she was. Just standing there in all that blaring vulgar fuss, totally serene. Christ, when it happens. When it hits you. You fall in love like a ton of bricks. And don’t know or care how. Everything about her. All her little physical faults are the most precious beautiful things. That you want to kiss and pour your love all over them. Church bells ringing. Today Sunday. Where I would be meandering down into the lobby of the Dorchester. Sitting all alone. Like I did last week. Staring at the fan of grey and white marble in the floor. Rugs green and orange. The gleam of limousines glinting in the glass of the revolving doors. The pampered women passing who want to be told how perfect they are. And always looking at the displays of gems. Like if I was the jewel, I’d feel in there, like a mouse with a cobra the other side of the glass, ready to strike. And then these rich dolls walk out. To wait for the green, gold braided doormen patrolling over their terrain, to open their big limousine doors. To take them in their own kind of self worship contentment to beauty appointments all over town. Tomorrow I’m going to go get a hair cut. Whatever this marvellous girl suggests. After Al, my black curly head must feel to her like an entire Canadian forest. God the whole body spills itself into somebody that you love. Why. Why did it have to be Al, I’m doing this to. Jesus the way these sausages and pancakes taste. Jars of honey I never even heard the name of before. The fucker is nothing else but a geriatric pleasure seeker. I could call him my most very best friend I ever had. And when you find a friend who is good and true fuck him before he fucks you. That’s what us guys always said in the Coast Guard. Or maybe I read that in an unexpurgated etiquette book somewhere. Saturday leaving the office, his Lordship said, Schultz, you’ll be exquisitely careful won’t you. As if something terrible was going to happen to me. Instead of the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. Jesus christ, his Lordship might be someone sorry to see me die. He’s a guy who could run a whole god damn kingdom. If only socialism would let him. A fucking shame the qualities he’s got went out of style years ago. Yet he’s so practical. I’m sure the son of a bitch’s ancestor must have been the inventor of the pitched roof. Binky once said to me, when I asked about all this English fucking reserve. Ah my dear Schultz an Englishman does not step out of his private soul in case someone would behave to him in a shitty manner. What am I doing. I’m talking now in my unexpected happiness, like I love those pair of exasperating guys. Who used my balls for billiards and made me piss all over myself dropping down skeletons behind my back for laughs. Maybe I just don’t know when people love or hate me.
Louella passing across the room. In that marvellous flowing silk fabric. My father would try to give it a name like The Princess Breakfast Dress. Then add twelve dollars, ninety nine cents to the price. Poor kid looks a little bit sad. Guess you don’t kick somebody’s teeth out that you’re fond of without a little remorse.
“Jesus Louella. Stop. Just there. Open that beautiful kimono. O baby. Jesus. Soon as you do that. Only that these sausages and pancakes are so fucking necessary to get my strength back I’d eat you instead.”
A faint smile from Louella. Sweeping her gown closed. God she’s wonderful. Not even a day gone by. And I know she’s the one for a lifetime. My fucking wife. Demanding champagne to celebrate our first month of misery. I saw stars when the cork of the bottle exploded out, hit me in the eye and sent me reeling around the room knocking over a vase. You’d think she’d worry I was hurt. Instead she shouts, stop you’re ruining the house you fucking bastard. Jesus thank god recent events have given me a welcome partial amnesia to all the other horrors at her hands. At last. The way I feel now. Streaking across the stage. Like the ballet dancer I saw the night I fell asleep in the theatre with Lulu. Only when the world invents something faster than light, only then will I need a head start. My life suddenly going again. Somebody like Al is just in everything for the money. Contracts and deals I saw stacked up in every drawer of his desk. Jesus, I got to get this innocent girl out of this lousy commercial atmosphere. Up here with him. Young and vibrant. Imagine, the woman I love. Forced to suck his decrepit wrinkled old prick. Jesus I don’t think I can even face the past history of it. A second ago Al should have been here listening. To the radio discussion on hair, baldness, greyness and drying of the scalp. O god. I mustn’t knock him, the poor shit. I ought to hope his concert last
night was a wonderful sell out. And as beautiful sounding as the sky is looking this moment out there. Christ over these last months the patches of bad luck were getting wider and wider. You nearly couldn’t leap across. Till the abyss I finally jumped last night. Fantastic. His Lordship only miscalculated by thirteen shillings. The man would be a genius at any bank. From now on I’m unstoppable.
“Hi honey, you look absolutely gorgeous.”
“Do I.”
“Jesus no words could do you justice. I swear.”
Louella standing naked at the open bathroom door. Steam steaming out behind her, misting over the windows. The casual London Sunday sounds. Drums beating. A parade somewhere. O god. Already I’ve got another fucking hard on. It comes up like a jack in the box. Her eyes. Not even moving. Like the most magnificent statue standing there. My hands dying to grab her. Her eyes and my eyes. Right while I keep on chewing. We’re bathing each other in the juice of each others souls. Jesus, even every noise is beautiful. That sounded like a crash down on the street. And she quivered and her nipples just shivered that fraction. This girl is going to give my life the finished touch. Not like what my mother wanted to give me. Those Jewish girls. Who whenever their mouths opened in a smile you could see the sneer. There she is mom. Just what you would advise against, even worse than my wife. My Louella. There standing framed stark naked in the bathroom door. Screwed each other in every direction. Tongues up each other’s asses. That’s how deep love can get. Holy shit. What’s wrong. Her jaw just dropped and she gasped ashen faced. Hey what’s the matter.
Schultz turning to look. Where Louella’s eyes were looking. In spellbound horror. At another figure. An unidentified flying object. Lifesize at the bedroom door. Except for the toupee, looking like fifty thousand Arabs. Converging on a single Jew taking a crap next to the wailing wall. A time now for every flea all over the face of the earth to fart. And try and make a sound in all this silence.