The Big Bounce

“I don’t know. I have the feeling you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I just didn’t feel like staying inside.”

“Well, you said you’re not the outdoor type.”

“Outdoorsy, I said. I’m just not in the mood.” She edged a little to the side to work around in front of him. “I think I’ll be in the mood later. All right?”

“I sure appreciate it.”

“Don’t be mad. Let’s do something.”

“Yeah, well, if you bust any windows around here, you know who has to fix them.”

“That’s better.” She was smiling at him. “No-let’s just look around.”

“At the dumb families and the dumb kids?”

She reached up, taking his face between her hands, stretching up against him and pulling his face down; she kissed his mouth lightly and quietly, moving around a little but staying right in there and applying pressure when his arms went around her and his hands spread over her back.

She took his hand. “Come on, show me the Bay Villa.”

“Vista.”

“All right, then show me the Bay Vista.”

They were walking toward the beach now, holding hands, Ryan standing off from them watching them and glad it was dark.

“This is all there is to it. Fourteen cabanas-”

“Cabanas?”

“That’s what he calls them. And the motel.”

“Who’s he?”

“Mr. Majestyk.”

“Oh, the one you were with at the Pier?”

“That’s right.”

“Where does he live?”

“In a house. Around the other side of Number One.”

“Show me.”

“It’s just a house.”

A beam of light spread out from the bole of a fir tree to flood Mr. Majestyk’s garden, illuminating the neatly trimmed shrubbery and border of white-painted rocks, the pale clean trunks of birch trees, the pair of flamingoes feeding beneath the birdhouse.

“Beautiful,” Nancy whispered. They were crossing the lawn in the darkness beyond the spotlight.

“He’s home,” Ryan said. “He’s probably watching television.”

“I’m sure he is,” Nancy said. “I love the lamp in the window.”

“His daughter decorated the place for him.”

“I want to see it.”

They were nearing the far edge of the lawn and now Nancy started toward the house, approaching the dark side that faced the empty field. A window was open, showing a square of rose-colored light through the screen.

Ryan caught her arm. “The door’s on the other side.”

“I don’t want to go in.”

She pulled away from him and there was nothing he could do but follow her to the window. He stood next to her, against the wall, as she looked in.

Mr. Majestyk was in his reclining chair facing the television set. He was watching a Western movie, watching intently, with a can of beer and a cigar. He would lean forward to take a sip of beer, his eyes holding on the screen, and the back of the Recline-O-Rama chair would rise with him, following him to an upright position. Dragging on the cigar, he would lean back again, pushing, bumping hard against the chair, and both Mr. Majestyk and the chair would settle back again.

“Wow,” Nancy said.

Ryan could hear the movie dialogue, a familiar voice, a quiet, Western drawl, then a woman’s voice. He recognized the drawl; he knew it right away. He edged close to the window and looked in, across the room, past Mr. Majestyk to Randolph Scott in the good hat that was curled just right in front. He couldn’t remember who the woman was, not bad-looking but sort of old. She sounded tired, like she had given up, saying she didn’t care what happened to her. Then Randolph Scott saying, “When you get done feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll tell you something… you’re alive and he’s dead and that makes the difference.”

“I love purple and silver,” Nancy whispered. “And lavender.”

He had seen the picture before. He remembered it now, a good one. Richard Boone was the bad guy. He and a couple of others hold up the stage and take Randolph and the woman and her husband prisoner, holding them for ransom because the woman’s dad was rich. The husband’s a coward and gets shot and you know they’re going to shoot Randolph and the woman once they get the dough, unless Randolph does something.

“The pictures,” Nancy said. “Those are the authentic dime store reproductions I was telling you about.”

“Shhh.”

“With white imitation antiqued frames. Beautiful.”

Mr. Majestyk and his chair sat up. He twisted around, looking over his shoulder, listening, and they ducked away from the window.

There was silence. Ryan stood in the dark with his back to the wall. He heard horses inside, the sound of their hooves fading away. There was no music or dialogue now. Something was about to happen. Maybe the part where Randolph goes in the cave after the guy named Billy Jack-that was a good part-the guy in there after the woman while his buddies are away. Randolph sneaks up behind Billy Jack and is about to belt him when Billy Jack turns and you think right away there’s going to be a fight; but, no, Randolph jams the sawed-off shotgun under Billy Jack’s chin and wham the guy’s face disappears quick, the way it would happen, without one of those fakey fights.

Nancy was looking in the window again. “Beautiful,” she whispered and giggled.

“Let’s go,” Ryan said.

“Just a minute.”

“He’s going to hear you.”

Wham, the shotgun went off and Ryan looked in. Yeah, that was the part. Randolph had the sawed-off shotgun now and the babe was holding her hands over her mouth, probably wetting her pants.

“God, where do you suppose he buys his furniture?”

“Come on, let’s go.”

“You have to see it to believe it. The lamp in the picture window-”

“Come on.”

“-with the cellophane on the shade. Hey, did you hear the one-do you know who won the Polish beauty contest?”

Ryan shook his head, pretending to be patient, letting her talk.

“Nobody,” Nancy said.

She laughed out loud and Mr. Majestyk twisted around in the chair, rolling out of it as the back popped straight up. He started for the window but turned abruptly and hurried across the room and through the double doors to the porch.

“He’s coming,” Ryan said. On the other side of the house the screen door slammed.

Nancy was looking in the window again. “You’re right. I think it’s time to cut.”

“Wait a minute-”

Before he could reach out for her, she was across the narrow space of lawn and into the field, into the darkness of the heavy brush, out of sight. For a moment he could follow her sound. He wanted to get out of there quick, go after her. But he hesitated. He waited. When he moved off, it was around to the front of the house. Mr. Majestyk was coming through the illuminated garden, past the two flamingoes.