Mickey remembered, but looked puzzled. 'What?'
'I asked you if you'd have lunch with me.'
'You were drinking--we all were, we say things--' showing him how pleasant and understanding she was. 'Don't worry, I didn't take it seriously.'
'But I was.' He stared at Mickey with a pretty straightforward, serious look too. 'I meant it.' 'Isn't Tyra waiting for you?'
'If she's watching we're talking about the piece in the paper. I haven't read it yet--'
'Don't.'
'What I'm gonna do is cut out the picture, put it in my wallet.'
'Marshall, come on--'
The name wasn't right. Marshall was too formal for a guy trying to fool around. But Marsh was too soft for a six-four hulk who'd played defensive end at Michigan State and now owned a company that made steel extrusions.
He said, 'I mean it. I want you to have lunch with me.'
'But there wouldn't be any point. I mean, why?' 'I like to talk to you.'
'We talk. We're talking now.'
'You remember any of the things I said last night? I told you how I've been thinking about you--'
He had told Mickey how different she was. He had told her, dancing--his hand moving over her back and trying to work in beneath her arm for a feel--she was like a little china doll. So much easier to dance with than Tyra. Dancing with Tyra was like driving a semi. She was putting on weight. Lived only for herself. Spent money like it was going out of style. Always buying clothes--but could never look as good as Mickey did in her simple little outfits. And--his wife didn't understand him.
The club lovers actually said that. 'My wife doesn't understand me.' Mickey wondered if she was supposed to say, 'Oh, then let's fool around. Frank doesn't understand me either.' It was true, and maybe the club lovers didn't get along with their wives; but why did it mean she would want to have lunch with them? What happened to those guys on Saturday night? A few drinks and respectable family men, dads, became lecherous pains in the ass. At one time she had thought maybe she should drink more at club parties, join in and quit watching. Everyone seemed to be trying to get involved with someone else. But why get involved and pretend to have fun simply to pass the time? If she was bored--
A week ago Saturday evening, sitting in the cocktail lounge, opening up a little to Kay Lyons, Kay had said, 'If the parties bore you, don't go.'
Mickey: I don't mean I'm bored. It just seems like a waste of time, every weekend the same thing. Kay: Then do something else.
Mickey: But if Frank likes to come--entertain customers, all that--it's what a wife does, isn't it?' Kay: What is?
Mickey: Be with her husband. Do what he wants to do.
Kay: Why?
Mickey: Because it's expected. He's--
Kay: The breadwinner: I don't know, I usually come out alone. God knows where Charlie is most of the time.
Mickey: Then you choose to come here. You like it.
Kay: What else is there to do?
Marshall Taylor, leaning on the table with his golf cap sitting on top of his head, said, 'You thinking about it?'
Mickey said, 'Marshall, I have to go. Bo's got a match and I have to find Frank--'
'I understand he's going to the Bahamas,' Marshall said.
'Just for a few days. An investors' meeting.'
'I asked him if he wanted to play next Saturday, he said he'd be away.'
Mickey hesitated, nodding. 'Probably all week, but he isn't sure.'
'How about tomorrow then for lunch? I know a good place--if you're worried about being seen.' 'Tomorrow--no, I really can't.'
'How about Tuesday then?'
'Really, it's not a good idea, Marshall.' Her gaze moved past him, through the entrance to the hallway and the all-yellow outfit approaching. 'Frank's coming.' She didn't mean it that way, as a warning.
But Marshall winked at her and said, 'I'll call you later.' He turned to Dawson with a grin. 'You leave your wife sitting alone, Frank, somebody's liable to steal her.' He started away.
Frank turned on his grin, swiping at Marshall's shoulder. 'See you out there, partner.' Then turned off the grin, pulled a chair out and sat down.
'Well?'
'I saw you as we drove in,' Mickey said, a nice even tone. 'I thought you were starting at 9:30.' 'Is that why you brought me out here?'
'If you weren't playing right away--I wanted to tell you Bo's match was changed to 2 o'clock.' 'You send a waitress in to get me--'
'I asked Rose if she'd seen you.'
'You send a waitress in to get me. She says, 'Your wife wants you.' Like that, like, 'So you better get out there.''
'I didn't say it that way.'
'Let me finish, okay?' He waited, in control. 'You send her in to get me, I'm supposed to jump up and come running out, huh?'
'Frank, I didn't mean to interrupt you.'
'I told you at home I'd watch Bo's match if we finished in time. You remember my saying that?'
'Yes, but then the time was changed and I was wondering about your flight.'
'Don't worry about it.'
'Well, if the flight's at 6:30 and you haven't gone out yet--'
'Don't worry about it, okay? We're going out at 1:30. Larry didn't get here, he was late. But I'll keep you posted, every move,' Frank said. 'Let's see, so far I've had two shells and I just ordered a cheeseburger and french fries. If I have another shell with lunch that'll be three, right? What do you think, you want to write it down or can you remember?'
'Frank, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you. Why don't you go back in?'
'When we get through playing I'll probably have a couple more beers,' Frank said. 'Let's see, that'll be five. Six if we have one at the turnstand. Then a couple of drinks at home, a couple on the plane. That's, let's see, ten.'
Mickey got up, taking her pack of cigarettes.
'A couple more with your folks,' Frank said, 'that'll be twelve--'
Chapter 5
RICHARD EDGAR MONK lived at 1035 State Fair, the street that ran east of Woodward Avenue along the south edge of the Michigan State Fairgrounds. The house faced a chain-link fence and was directly across from one of the gates where they used to bring in the horse-trailers during the racing season and Richard made eight dollars a day parking cars in his drive. But now they played softball over there.
The house was a frame crackerbox with a pair of dormer windows sticking out of the roof and no style at all until Richard fixed up the front with imitation ledgerock, a grillwork porch and striped aluminum awnings over the porch and windows. There was a hedge around the little square of grass to keep in the pair of flamingos, a bird- feeder on a pole in the backyard and a statue of the Blessed Virgin standing in a birdbath that Richard's mother had bought. Before she had died, Richard's mother used to go out there by the birdbath and say her rosary for the conversion of Russia. She and Richard had both hated atheistic communism.
