who.
Briggs shakes his head. “It’s me that should apologize, ma’am, you’re a, uhm, a guest in our country and I thought I was acting in the best interests of the town and I see that I’ve gotten incorrect information. I’ve made an error and I’m sorry.”
Jack grins. “Well, I’m glad that’s sorted out,” he says cheerfully. “Glad and a little disappointed. That’s the most heroic thing I’ve ever done and all for some stupid mistake. That’s not going to make a good story.”
“If you do not mind, Senor Jack, I will go and put some coffee on,” I say.
“Wonderful. By all means, excellent idea. Thank you very much, Maria,” Jack replies.
I look at Sheriff Briggs. “Would you like some coffee, sir?” I ask him.
His face is red with embarrassment. I repeat the offer of coffee and he shakes his head. This little encounter has given me breathing room. It’ll take him a few hours to pin down the real story-maybe all day. That’s all I need. One more day.
“No, ma’am, no, thank you,” he says stiffly.
I go inside the house and once I’m out of view I run to the kitchen, press the button on the coffeemaker, and wind open the window so that I can hear their conversation.
The two men are standing close, intimately so, like brothers or lovers or confederates.
“Is Youkilis in some kind of trouble?” Jack asks.
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing. You know that girl Marilyn from Ohio that works for Jackson?”
“Yeah. Sure. Not bad-looking.”
“She used to work for me at the sheriff’s station. Got rid of her. She thought it was Bond and fucking Moneypenny. We’re still close, though. Good head on her shoulders.”
“What about her?”
“Calls me up last night and lets me know that someone’s been asking questions about the accident. The day the Mex got killed.”
“Shit. Is it something we should be concerned about?”
Briggs shakes his head. “I don’t know. Something might have gotten garbled down there. I’ll check it out. I’ll ask Esteban. No, to hell with
“Should I tell Paul?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll look into this, really look into it. Let you know Monday.”
“Ok.”
Briggs shakes his head, ruefully gestures at the overturned chair. “And, and I’m sorry about all this, Jack.”
Jack, not Mr. Tyrone.
“It’s a bit much for a Sunday morning. You scared the shit out of Maria.”
“I’m sorry about that. Maybe made a mistake about her. Anyway, I’ll let you know what’s going on by tomorrow.”
Jack murmurs something that I can’t hear.
I press my face right against the bug screen but I still can’t catch it.
Jack and the sheriff shake hands. Briggs picks up the poker and hands it to Jack.
Jack laughs.
The sheriff laughs.
Very cordial. Very anglo. Is this how they do things here? In Cuba you don’t let a man rough up your woman. You put him in the fucking hospital. You kill him.
This… this seems too easy.
Briggs points back at the house. I shrink from the window. He puts his hands on his hips, spits.
“Thing is, Jackie boy, even if she’s clean, I mean, really, the maid?”
“She’s great.”
“You don’t see me running around with easy pickings and I’ve got plenty of opportunity. You gotta get your act together,” the sheriff says.
“Hey, I wanna-”
“Wait a minute, hear me out. I mean, what do you want? What do you really want out of life?”
“I want a career. A good career,” Jack says.
“You want to do good work, you want to be remembered. Right?”
“Yes. That and friends and a family.”
“You don’t think I want that? You don’t think I want to get married again, have kids? I’m not getting any younger. But I’m trying to build something up here. A town. A community. Something that will last. Even if the Scientologists don’t come, I’ll have made something that’ll be here a hundred, a thousand years from now. This was barely a village before we got started; in a few years we’ll be in full competition with Aspen and Vail. You gotta get with the program, Jack, you have to take life more seriously. Your friend Maria, Esteban, people like that, they’re not thinking about the future-I doubt they’re thinking at all-don’t let them drag you down to their level. Set your goals high, Jack, make some sacrifices. It’s not about instant gratification, it’s about the long term, it’s about posterity.”
Jack nods solemnly. Briggs puts his big paw on Jack’s shoulder.
Gives me a spine shiver from neck to ass.
Briggs walks down the gravel path. Jack waves and then says, “Hey, Sheriff, you were in the Marines, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You think we could talk some time? I’m playing a British Army officer in this movie I’m doing. Maybe we could have coffee and you could give me a few hints.”
“Sure. Let’s do that. I’ll call you Monday.”
Jack waves again and comes back into the house.
When he appears in the kitchen the coffee’s ready. I pour him a cup.
“Thanks,” he says.
I wait a beat, then two, then almost half a minute before finally he remembers to say it: “God, Maria, I’m really sorry about Briggs.”
“I was so scared,” I tell him, giving him a big slice of the truth.
“It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok,” he says.
I sit on his lap and have coffee and a stale bagel. Not once does he offer an explanation but several times he looks at his watch.
I shower, scald myself with the water. Wither away that expensive olive oil soap.
I change into my
Jack’s on the phone when I come out of the bedroom. He hangs up with an enormous smile on his face. “Fucking hell! Sunday lunch at the man’s! Can you believe it? Can you believe it? Beckham’s gonna be there. Not to mention Kelly and Katie. Fuck, he didn’t say Travolta but if Kelly’s gonna be there, who knows, right? Me and Mister C. Jesus! Jesus! Gotta tell Paul and Danny.”
“That’s great,” I say without inflection.
“Wow, he remembered me, all right. Did I tell you we were in
“Yes.”
“I was little more than a glorified extra, but he must have remembered me. See, that’s how things go. It’s all contacts. And Paul’s right. Do some indies, the big pics follow. I’m not even thirty-officially-and I’m moving into the territory. Lead in
