Didn’t seem so. I’ve only met him a couple of times at parties. And he seemed distracted the whole time. A little out of it.
Well, he doesn’t strike me as a fashion show kind of guy.
Yes. It was a little weird that he was there at all.
So, you tell Mr. IQ who you really are…
Sort of. I said I was your assistant.
Like I said, who you really are.
Ramon didn’t seem too happy when he heard your name.
Ah, my charms have been wasted on him.
And he wouldn’t talk at all in the hospitality suite. He kept looking nervously at FitzGibbon. Like he was afraid Daddy wouldn’t approve.
So you took him to a nice motel in the neighborhood?
No. He took me into a private room in the back.
Same thing.
Not quite.
Lap dances, at least?
If I’d asked, I presume. Anyway, the guy’s not exactly a conversationalist. One-word answers. Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t recall.
I don’t recall?
Those are the words.
Sounds like I’d prepared him for his testimony.
Exactly. The guy was tighter than virgin pussy.
Jesus. I hope you don’t talk that way around Warwick.
Of course I do. He laps it up.
Speaking of poor choice of phrase.
I thought it was pretty good, actually.
All right. You’re funnier than me too. So?
Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. Less than zero. I asked him about Jules. Doesn’t know anything. No hostility. Barely knows the kid. Never heard of the victim. Loves Daddy. Works hard. Security detail. That’s what he’s doing right now. Has no outside interests. Except the Club. Loves the Club. Practically lives there.
That’s it?
Actually, I’ve extrapolated quite a bit. He said less than that.
Jesus. That sucks.
It does.
Well, I think it’s time to declare victory and go home.
You’re such a wimp, Ricky. We need a plan.
I thought I’d pay FitzGibbon a visit.
And?
That’s all.
That’s all?
Listen, doll, it’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning.
Darling, you’ve got to get organized. What’s the use of all those index cards if you don’t have a plan?
Yes, well, I said. I was hoping you could help me with that. Can’t I have just one day off? I’m bereaved, remember?
Right. Now I remember, she said.
It’s okay, I said. You can be mad at me.
No, she said, I can’t, really. Or at least I won’t.
79.
I dragged myself out of a dark blank sleep. I looked around the bedroom. I had no idea what time it was. Hell, I had no idea what day it was.
I called Kelly. I asked her.
It’s eight o’clock, Dad, she said, shaking her head. Saturday night.
Jesus, I said. That’s really weird.
It wouldn’t be nearly so weird if you hadn’t slept all afternoon.
I think you may have a point there.
Kelly was playing Scrabble with Peter. I joined them for a while. We ordered in Chinese. It was a family sort of thing.
It felt good.
On the other hand, I thought after losing a second game, I sure could use a Scotch.
At the Wolf’s Lair I ran into Jake. I thought of leaving. I wasn’t in a state to deal with his mood swings.
But I needed that drink.
Jake was in his faraway mode. Or just plain drunk. Staring into space. Speaking in monosyllables. Mumbling about the evils of the world. I couldn’t make out half of what he said.
I had a couple Scotches. I felt a little better. He put his arm around my shoulder. I propped him up. I was feeling charitable. He was a friend, after all. I had so few. A brother. A guy I might be able to lean on, someday. Like he was leaning on me. Sure he was a bit of a nutcase. But hell, I had to take what I could get.
We talked poker. We had a few drinks.
Andrea might be joining us, he said glumly.
Excellent, I said, remembering the flirtatious looks I’d got, last time.
It was going to be strange to see her out of context. The poker crew didn’t exist for me outside of the game.
Strange, but not unpleasant, I mused.
I caught myself. Jesus. Could I really be having such a thought?
The pure man doesn’t resist temptation, I remembered from some sermon or another. He knows he’s weak: he avoids it. I should go home.
Sure, I answered myself, but isn’t life for the living? Melissa’s gone. And she did it to herself. And me. And Kelly. And love is the best antidote. For loss. Confusion. Guilt. Longing. For anything that ails a man.
Okay, not love.
Maybe I could get Andrea to punish me. For my impure thoughts.
Hold me back. Tie me up. Please. Then do it again.
Minutes later she arrived.
Slinky, sharp, snakelike, I saw her through the haze of drink.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Jake and I were tottering. Loud. Annoying. Oblivious. She came up smiling. She could see, and I could see that she could see, that we were out of control. She seemed to relish it.
I was a better drunk than Jake. He was sloppy, incoherent. I was not entirely in control, but I could stand up fairly straight. Concoct a jest or two at the spectacle of Jake slipping off his bar stool to the floor. I raised a conspiratorial eyebrow at Andrea. She laughed.
You look like somebody famous, she said to me. I just can’t put my finger on who.
Harrison Ford?
No. That’s not it.
Well, I’m not famous. But the only difference between me and all those famous people is…
Yes?
… that you’ve never heard of me.
She laughed again.
