Oliver's Story

bitch a telegram instructing her to go to hell.'

Another pause.

'Except I can't,' I then confessed. 'I don't know her address.'

 

I was in the midst of dreaming that I was asleep when — dammit — someone woke me on the telephone.

'Hi. Did I arouse, disturb or otherwise intrude?' The merry caller was Miss Marcie Nash. Her implication: was I having fun, or simply waiting doglike for her call.

'What I'm doing's strictly classified,' I said, implying I was into some lubricious bit of grab-ass.

'Where the hell are you?'

'I'm at the airport,' she replied, as if it was the truth.

'Who're you with?' I asked quite casually, in hope she would be caught off guard.

'Some tired businessmen,' she said.

I bet the business had been very tiring.

'Well, did you get a tan?' I asked.

'A what?' she said. 'Hey, Barrett, are you smoking? Clear your head and tell me if we're playing tennis in the morning?'

I squinted at my wrist watch on the table. It was almost 1 a.m.

'It's already 'in the morning',' I replied, annoyed by what she'd done all week compounded by her waking me. And not biting at my baited questions. And the whole continuing enigma.

'Do we play at six a.m.?' she asked. 'Say yes or no.' I thought a lot for several miniseconds. Why the hell would she come back from fun and frolic in the tropics and yet want to go play tennis so damn early? Also, why not play with 'roommate'? Was I just her tennis pro? Or did he have to breakfast with his wife? I ought to tell her off and go to sleep.

'Yeah, I'll be there,' I said. Which wasn't quite what I'd intended. 

I beat her to a pulp.

Next morning on the tennis court I showed no mercy whatsoever. I was wordless (save for 'Are you ready?') and extremely vicious. Add to this the fact that Marcie's game was slightly off. She looked a trifle pale. Did it rain down in Bermuda? Or did she spend too much time indoors? Well, that was none of my concern.

'Heigh ho,' she said with difficulty when the swift debacle ended. 'Pancho didn't humor me today.'

'I had a week to lose my sense of humor, Marcie.'

'Why?'

'I thought the Cleveland joke was just a little much.'

'What do you mean?' she said, and seemed ingenuous.

'Look, I'm too pissed off to even talk about it.'

Marcie seemed confused. I mean she acted like she didn't have a clue that I was on to her.

'Hey, aren't we adults?' she said. 'Why can't we talk about what's bugging you?'

'It isn't worth discussing, Marcie.'

'Okay,' she said, and sounded disappointed. 'Obviously, you don't want to go to dinner.'

'I was not aware there was a dinner.'

'Isn't that supposed to be the prize?' she said.

I thought a moment. Should I tell her now? Or should I enjoy a lavish meal at her expense and then tell her to go to hell?

'Yeah — buy me a dinner,' I replied, a trifle gruffly.

'When and where?' she said, apparently undaunted by my impoliteness.

'No, I'll just pick you up. At your place,' I said pointedly.

'I won't be home,' she answered. Yeah, a likely story.

'Marcie, I will pick you up if you're in Timbuktu.'

'Okay, Oliver. I'll call you at your house around six-thirty and I'll tell you where I am.'

'Suppose I'm not at home?' I said. A pretty cool riposte, I thought. To which I added, 'Sometimes I have clients who invite me to their offices in outer space.'

'Okay, I'll keep calling till your rocket lands.'

She started toward the ladies' locker room and turned. 'Oliver, you know I'm starting to believe you're really crazy?'

 

'Hey, I won a big one.'

Dr London offered no congratulations. Yet he knew the action was significant since I'd referred to it in sessions past. So once again I had to abstract Channing v. Riverbank. The latter is the fancy condominium on East End Avenue, the former, Charles F. Channing, Jr, president of Magnitex, a former Penn State All-American, a prominent Republican … and also eminently black. His application for the purchase of the penthouse was denied for some odd reason. And that reason brought him to seek counsel. He chose J & M for our prestige. Old man Jonas gave his case to me.

We won it easily, invoking not the recent open housing laws — which have some ambiguities — but simply citing Jones v. Mayer, last year argued in the high court (392 U.S. 409). Herein the justices affirmed that 1866s civil rights act guaranteed to everyone the freedom to buy property. It was soundly rooted in the First Amendment. Riverbank was soundly routed. And my client moves in on the thirtieth.

'For once I even made some money for the firm,' I added. 'Channing is a millionaire.'

But London still withheld all comment.

'Old man Jonas took me out to lunch. Marsh — the other half — came by for coffee. They were hinting at a partnership … '

Still no comment. What exactly would impress this guy?

'I'm seducing Marcie Nash tonight!'

Aha. He coughed.

'Don't you wonder why?' I asked, my tone demanding a response.

He answered quietly. 'You like her.'

I began to laugh. He didn't understand. I then explained this was the only way to get the answers.

Crude as it may sound (and cynical), seduction is a potent way to truth. And when I've learned what Marcie has been hiding, I'll just tell her off, depart, and feel terrific.

Now if London dares to ask me for a fantasy, I'll walk right out.

He didn't. And instead he made me ask myself why I had been so self-congratulating. Why had I been strutting verbally like some damn peacock? Was my emphasis on legal triumph just to draw attention from some other … insecurities?

Of course not. Why should I be insecure?

She's just a girl.

Or isn't that the problem?