“You said yourself, it’s done all the time.”
The diamond on Jay Walt’s little finger reflected a flash of purple as he extended his arm.
“Lemme have a look, Jackie. See if I like it.”
They didn’t ask Jay Walt to take his coat off, but as Mr. Perez walked over to the desk with the envelope he said, “Raymond, fix Mr. Walt a drink.”
“Scotch and a splash’d be fine,” Jay Walt said.
“Scotch and a splash,” Mr. Perez said. “It still cold outside?”
“Not too bad,” Jay Walt said. “Maybe forty-five, around there.”
“That’s cold,” Mr. Perez said. He had his reading glasses on now and had taken the papers out of the envelope. Without looking up he said, “Raymond, hold that scotch and a splash.”
Raymond Gidre, over by the bookcase bar, turned with the J&B in his hand.
Jay Walt, in his coat with the buckles and metal rings and epaulets, waited. He had only said to Mr. Perez, handing him the manila envelope, “This seems to be for you; some sort of legal matter.” Trying to play dumb and keep his ass out of it as much as possible.
“‘Complaint for Mandatory Injunction,’” Mr. Perez said, looking over at Jay Walt. “Some sort of legal matter, huh? ‘To compel the disclosure of information… a summons to appear in Circuit Court, County of Oakland.’ Yeah, I guess that’s some sort of legal matter all right. Raymond, what would you say to taking this fat boy and throwing him out the window?”
“You open it,” Raymond said, moving toward Jay Walt, “and I’ll throw him. How far you want him to go?”
“I guess all the way down,” Mr. Perez said. “Might as well.” He walked over to the room’s smaller, regular- size window, snapped the shade up spinning on the roller, and raised the lower window flush with the top pane. “How’s that?”
“That’s good,” Raymond said.
Jay Walt didn’t believe it, looking from Mr. Perez to Raymond Gidre, who was close to him now, with his wet-down hair and sportshirt and mother tattoo. He could smell Raymond’s hair tonic. He said, “Hey, guys, come on.”
“I can run him right through there,” Raymond said. “Got handles on his coat.” Raymond grabbed the belt and one of the epaulets, almost jerked Jay Walt off his feet, and ran him across the room toward the window.
Jay Walt screamed. “Jesus Christ-come
Jay Walt’s head banged hard against the window frame. “Shit,” Raymond said. He backed him up, straining, clench-jawed, and pushed him half through the open window, Jay Walt squeezing against the sill with his knees to hold on, looking straight down seventeen floors to the Jefferson Avenue service drive, seeing the tops of cars moving, inching along, feeling the wind cutting his face.
“Son of a bitch is stuck.”
“Hold him there,” Mr. Perez said. “I believe he was saying his prayers.”
“I don’t know, he mentioned Jesus,” Raymond said. “Ain’t he a Jew boy?”
“I believe so. Ask him.”
Raymond leaned close to Jay Walt’s back. “Hey, are you a Jew boy?” Raymond looked up at Mr. Perez. “He nodded yes.”
“Ask him was this his idea.”
Raymond asked him. “He shook his head no,” Raymond said.
“Ask him again.”
“Nooo!” wailed Jay Walt, out in the wind.
“Ask him whose idea was it.”
“Ryan!” Jay Walt screamed. “I don’t know anything about it-honest to Christ!”
“Bring him in and shut the window,” Mr. Perez said. He walked over to the bar and made himself a drink. When he came back, Jay Walt had edged away from the window and seemed to be holding on to his stomach, protecting himself.
“Slap him a good one,” Mr. Perez said. “Get his attention.”
Jay Walt didn’t see it coming. Raymond gave him an open hand across the face that almost knocked him down. Jay Walt screamed as he got it.
“Some more.”
He looked round and fatter in the coat, trying to cover up. “Please, please don’t hurt me. I swear to God-”
He tried to turn, but Raymond caught him by the front of his coat and cracked him hard across the face. “Look at me, Jew boy,” Raymond said. “Hey, look at me.” Raymond grabbed him by the hair then, raising his face, Jay Walt moaning, trying to squeeze his eyes closed, and began slapping him with his yellow-callused palm, back- handing him on the return swing, raking the man’s nose and cheekbones with his knuckles.
Mr. Perez sipped his drink and lowered it. “That’s fine, Raymond.” As Raymond stepped away, blowing on his hand, Mr. Perez said to Jay Walt, “Did you learn anything of value today?”
Jay Walt, his mouth open and swollen-looking, nodded and mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you,” Mr. Perez said.
“Yes, sir, I did, I didn’t mean to-”
“Let me hear you say, I will never fuck with Mr. Perez again.”
Jay Walt began to repeat the words.
“Speak up,” Mr. Perez said. “I still can’t hear you.”
“I will never…”
“I will never fuck with Mr. Perez again, ever.”
“I will never fuck with Mr. Perez again,” Jay Walt said.
“Ever.”
“Ever,” Jay Walt said.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Mr. Perez said. “Now wipe your nose and go home.”
Ryan liked a dark business suit and white shirt with a suntan. It made the person look successful: sitting at a table in the Salamander Bar, quietly waiting to hear the outcome of a business deal. The subdued lighting was also good for suntans. He had a 7Up, then switched to a ginger ale and fooled with it, making it last, sucking at the ice in the bottom of the glass when Jay Walt came in.
“Wow,” Ryan said, with reverence. “You look like you been stung by bees.” He made a gesture of rising as Jay Walt wedged himself into the table and collapsed.
“We got to get out of here. No, I want a drink, Christ.” He was gasping, barely moving his swollen mouth. “They open the window, Christ, try and push me out. This big son of a bitch starts hitting me as hard as he can.”
“While you’re out the window?”
“Seventeenth floor, I look down, Christ, I said, Hey, guys, come on, this isn’t funny.”
“What’d Perez say?”
“What’d he
Ryan sat back in his chair. “So he didn’t think much of the mandatory injunction, uh?”
Buying Jay Walt a couple of doubles and sitting with him gave Ryan time to plan his next immediate move. He gave Jay Walt another hundred dollars, saying he was awfully sorry it turned out the way it did-with Jay Walt getting some of his nerve back with the scotch and threatening to sue the son of a bitch-walked him over to the escalator, thanked him again, then crossed the lobby to the house phones.
When Mr. Perez came on, Ryan said, “Jay Walt just phoned me. Looks like you’re gonna have
Mr. Perez said, “Don’t you believe it.”
“Not afraid to go to court, huh?”
“Why don’t you come by and we’ll talk about it,” Mr. Perez said.
“If we can do it on the ground floor,” Ryan said. “Maybe later on. There’s something I got to do first.”
