“The Chiller himself?”
“In all his spangled glory. And his
She stopped, straightened her dress, patted her hair. “And of course, our dear Councilman Latch- it was he who arranged the whole thing.”
“Latch?”
She nodded. “Wifey-poo’s show biz connections, no doubt. She’s here, too, patting the kids’ heads and wearing a rock that could pay for all our school lunches for a year.”
“Diamonds on a revolutionary?”
“California revolutionary. What my dad used to call Cadillac Commies. Lord save me from Monday morning surprises.”
“No one told you?”
“Nope.”
“So much for his hearing me.”
“What’s that?”
“Latch. The time he dropped in to play his harmonica. I talked to him about keeping things predictable. He told me he’d heard me- I’d given him food for thought.”
“Oh, he heard it all right. He just chose to disregard it.”
“When did you actually find out?”
We resumed walking. She said, “One of the pencil-pushers left a message on my machine last night at ten. I had the poor manners to be out with you, didn’t pick up until this morning. Which gave me a heck of a lot of time to prepare, right? I managed to get to Latch just a while ago, told him this could be disruptive. He didn’t process that at all, said getting a star of DeJon’s
I said, “Coup for him. Tape a few thousand feet of happy-face video for the next campaign.”
She made a taut, throaty sound, like a mama bobcat warning hunters away from the lair. “You know, what gets me the most is that Sunday call from downtown. That’s got to be a historical first. Ordinarily I can’t even get them to take a message during working hours. Ordering textbooks, begging for funds for field trips- everything takes forever. Molasses Standard Time. But for this, they can move like rockets.”
I said, “Rock and roll never dies. You even got your guard back.”
She gave a disgusted look. “You should see the production they’ve put together. Crew from the record company arrived at seven, along with carpenters from the district. They set up a big stage out on the yard in one hour
I said, “Mega-platinum and the Nobel Peace Prize too. With all this excitement, what’s the status of the parent group?”
“The parents are all here- though I had a heck of a time getting Jonson’s yahoos to understand they needed to be let through without a body search. I had to watch the door all morning. ’Course, once Latch’s people realized who they were, they laid out the red carpet- snapped their pictures with Latch, gave them front-row seats for the show.”
“How’d the mothers react to that?”
“Confused, at first. But they got into it pretty quickly- celebrities for an hour. Whether they’ll be in a receptive state for talking about problems, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I smiled. “Not receptive even for
She colored. “Hey, to me, you’re famous. The kind of fame that matters.”
We reached her office. As she unlocked it, she said, “Alex, I know it’s the same old question, but what’s the psychological effect of something like this on the kids?”
“Let’s hope they’ll have some fun, get back to their routine in a day or so, and move on. The main risk you run is that they’ll get so overstimulated that they experience a case of the morning-after blues once the hoopla dies down. I used to see it a lot when I worked at the hospital. Celebrities would blow in for photo-op visits with poor little sick kids, then disappear just as suddenly, and the kids would be left with their pain and disease and a sudden silence on the wards that was really… harsh. It was due to the shift in arousal- decompression. I started to think of it as the psychological bends.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “We see the same kind of thing after an all-day field trip. They’re supposed to be having fun but they fall apart.”
“Exactly,” I said. “It’s why so many birthday parties end up in tears. Another thing to consider is that all this excitement and strangers- politicians, the press- could cause them to remember the last time things got so excited around here.”
“The sniping? Oh, boy.”
“Some of them may flash back to it, get anxious all over.”
“Terrific,” she said. “What do I do?”
“Keep an eye out for anxiety reactions- especially among the younger ones. When things quiet down, try to get them back to a routine. Maintain discipline but be flexible. They may need to talk about the concert, talk out the excitement- and any fear they’re experiencing. If any persistent reactions develop, you know where to find me.”
“You’re becoming a fixture here, Doc.”
I smiled. “Ulterior motives.”
She smiled back, but looked low.
“What is it?” I said.
“I’m supposed to be in charge, but I feel… irrelevant.”
“This is a one-shot deal, Linda. By tomorrow you’ll be back in control. But yeah, it stinks. They should have told you.”
She gave another sad smile. “Thanks for the support.”
“Ulterior motives.”
This time her smile was untarnished.
She took my hand and led me inside the office, locked the door behind us, threw her arms around me, and kissed me hard and long.
“There,” she said. “My own contribution to overstimulation.”
“Acknowledged,” I said, catching my breath. “And appreciated.”
She kissed me again. We went into her inner office. The music from the schoolyard pounded through the walls.
“Here’s the list of parents,” she said, handing me a sheet of paper.
I took it. The music stopped. An amplified, reverberating voice took its place.
She said, “Let the games begin.”
We stood at the back of the yard, looking out over hundreds of heads, watching Gordon Latch.
He stood behind a lectern at the center of the stage, brandishing his harmonica. The lectern was polished walnut embossed with the city seal. The stage was heavy lumber, elevated and backed with a thirty-foot wall of black silk that looked like a patch on the clear blue eye of the sky. Lots of sound equipment but no instruments. No musicians either. Just the press, crowding around on all sides, filming, talking into tape recorders, jotting. And a
