grab him? Right outside?
'Hi.' She took his hand tightly. 'I thought of just the place.'
'How do we get there?'
'Oh, we walk. Just two blocks.'
Outside, people stood lined up, cabs waiting, guys in nice coats, girls looking sexy in dresses and heels. He glanced inside toward the bar. The bartender, back turned, ear in phone. 'I can't, sweetie,' he told her slurrily.
'Why?'
'Can't walk. You got me drunk, babe. Got to eat something.'
'We'll take a cab.'
'That's fine. Somewhere they give you food. Need some air. Taxi air's the best. Hits your face.'
She flicked her fingers and a cab nosed up. He opened the door for her like a gentleman, and after she sat down, he dropped heavily to the seat as she gave directions. Then she pulled a tiny phone out of her purse, flipped it open, punched in a bunch of numbers: 'Sandy? It's Connie. I know, I know. Yes, baby! I just wanted to know if you would give Warhol his food. Just one can of the beef. What? No, not too late.' She laughed. 'Maybe yes and maybe no.' She glanced at Rick, smiling, laid a hand on his knee. 'Well, probably it was his beard. Yes, yes. Hmm? I think first the Temple Bar, if we can get in. The Temple, you remember, they have this great little salmon and caviar thing. Right. Okay, Sandy, thanks.' She hung up, popped the phone into her purse. 'My poor doggie needs to eat.' She looked at him and squeezed his leg. 'You'll like this place, it's much quieter. No scene.'
'Great,' he burbled. 'Very nice.' And then jolt and speed, one light, two, cabdriver some kind of rag-head terrorist, didn't kill them all in Desert Storm, and he let his hand fall to Connie's thigh and she held it affectionately, and he kept thinking of the juicy stink along his belly and legs, up and down, drip it on me, I'll stick a finger in first, then some tongue, you fly bitch, you'll like my dick, I promise, they all do, if they don't see it first it surprises them, one girl put a ruler next to it, get you with your legs up and then-and then the cab lurched up against the curb and of course he would pay, give the guy a ten. Burning the cash from Aunt Eva's. He needed two tries to get out of the cab. His feet felt loose. The place was just a door, ten or twelve people outside. Too crowded, never get in. The doorman waved them in. The place was dark as a cave. Tables, little candles, very cool atmosphere, people very cool, money flowing every which way. The bar was three deep. A waitress took them toward the back. Try not to knock into people, Clark. How could they have a table? But they did. Just for two. Did Tony Verducci own this place, too? People were looking at them-why? She was good-looking, but so were half the women. He saw a fire door. alarm will sound. The menu was classy. He'd eat one of the salmon things and slip out. Run, run, get away. Try to bang Connie some other day. They ordered. The salmon appetizers, please.
'You're not talking,' she said.
'I'm worried, heh.'
'About what?'
'I had some messages at the hotel I was going to check.'
'Important?'
'Not really. Just want to check them.'
'Here.' She pulled the little phone out of her purse. 'You just push the green button and dial.'
'Great.' He took it from her.
'And I'll go pee. Be right back.'
She got up and walked away. He knew from the way she walked that she was thinking about how her butt looked. They all did. They had you coming and going. You chased them and then they caught you. He studied the phone, all of its buttons. The thing was small enough she could slide it up into herself. Phone sex, ha-ha. Man, was he a sly motherfuck! He punched the little green button, heard a dial tone. Then he pushed redial.
'Yeah?' came a man's voice after two rings.
'Where's this?'
'This is the kitchen phone.'
Rick nodded. Of course. The place they'd just left. 'I'm trying to reach Connie.'
'She's not around, she's gone.'
'She told me she could be reached there.'
'She's busy, she's working. She's not supposed to give this number out.'
He didn't say anything.
'Who is this?'
'Nobody,' he slurred. 'Just a-'
'I said who is this?'
'This is the police,' Rick said. 'We're going to kill Tony Verducci.'
He hung up. Then he punched the green button again and dialed randomly. That would be the redial number in case she tried it. He looked up. She was coming back now, and as she passed by the light over the bar, he saw her clearly. She was almost young, but there were old things on her.
'Thanks.' He handed Connie the phone.
'Got through?'
'Perfect.'
The drinks and salmon came. He had maybe three or four minutes. Go ahead and knock it back. It wouldn't take long. Some guys coming in a cab, maybe right now. Maybe she'd used the pay phone next to the ladies' room. He ate the salmon. She was looking around, her hand in her bag for a cigarette. Waiting, she was waiting. That was it. Jump off the train.
He stood up.
'Hey,' she said. 'Where you headed?'
'I can't ride the train.'
'What do you mean?'
Heh. Go to the fire door. Excuse me, excuse me, a young couple was moving out of his way, yes, thank you, very civilized, he was almost falling down. 'Yes, yes, I know, excuse me. Sorry. Sorry! Please move, what? Hey, fuck you, too.' alarm will sound. That was good. Scare everybody. Connie following him. Two guys, too. He pushed the bar, the door swung open, no alarm sounded, and he was outside, the night air hitting him, and he saw-oh so beautiful-three empty cabs speeding up Lafayette to make the light and the two goombahs and Connie were coming out and he saluted the cab nearest him like an officer and caught the handle as the car jerked to a stop and pulled it and saw to his horror it was still locked and he pounded on the window, click-click, yes, pulled it open, jumped in, but not before one of the guys yanked open the door. 'Go, go, go!' he hollered to the cabbie. 'They wanna kill me.' But the cabbie was uncertain and didn't speed up and the goonish guy was jogging alongside, then running alongside, then trying to get in, saying, 'You fucking-' which was when Rick finally got two hands on the door handle and yanked it shut like nobody's business, making the guy's hand crunch, fingers waggling inside the door frame, and Rick opened the door, making the hand fall away, and slammed it shut for good and looked back through the rear window to see the guy rolling in the street grabbing his bad hand, with the other guy catching up and, back farther, Connie standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself in the night air, finally looking like what she was, some chick working for the money, which on this evening meant trying to help two goombahs to find out who the big bearded guy was, the guy who said he knew Tony Verducci, the guy she'd pegged from the first as traveling on a fool's errand.
Park Avenue Partners Fertility Clinic Forty-eighth Street and Park Avenue, Manhattan September 14, 1999
'Two dozen letters already,' Martha Wainwright hissed at Charlie as he stepped into her office. 'They're just sailing in from every other lonely woman of child-bearing age who reads your advertisement.' He'd slipped away from Teknetrix early, carrying the antique cloisonne bowl for Ellie he'd had sent from Shanghai, walking through the caverns of heat and shadow around Grand Central, trying to avoid the shoeshine men, early-drunk commuters, and sweltering tourists. You could always tell the out-of-towners. They looked like Charlie's father going to Miami Beach in 1965. Cameras and white socks and floppy hats. Lost with a map in their hands. The wife with an ass like a sack
