badlooking guy, but he dressed like a zombie and wore brown shoes with a navy blue suit. Beautiful. I think maybe he smiled twice.
The party lasted until about six o'clock. Finally, everyone was gone, including the bartender, and we were left with the mess to clean up.
But before we did that, we slumped in chairs, shared a joint, and tried to figure out what had gone wrong.
'The guy's a straight-arrow,' I complained. 'I think he bought my story of being in the drug biz, but he wasn't giving anything away. I as much as told him he was in a position to make big bucks if he'd be willing to share some of Mcwhortle's trade secrets. He looked at me like he was ready to phone the FBI.
Listen, I've been clipping gulls all my life, and mostly you get to them through their greed. But this Barrow acted like he couldn't care less about gelt. And as for screwing dear old Mcwhortle Laboratory, forget it. I tell you the man's a fucking Boy Scout. He's not going, to hand over that testosterone pill for love or money. Leastwise not for money.
Jess, how did you make out in the love department?'
The folding bar was still in place, and a lot of the booze I had bought was still there. Jessica went over and poured a Chivas for Laura, a Sterling for herself, and a glass of club soda for me.
'You called him a straight-arrow,' she said. 'He's also a frost. I don't know what's with him. Either I didn't turn him on or he's so in love with that Betty Boop wife of his that he doesn't want to stray.
Anyway, I gave him the full treatment, trying to convince him that I thought he was God's gift to women.
But I just couldn't touch him. I think if I came right out and said, Wanna get naked?' he'd have said, beg your pardon, madam. Like I had my address and phone number written on a piece of paper and slipped it to him. The poor mooch didn't know what to do with it and finally stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe he'll call me, but don't bet on it.
Let's face it, The guy is a natural-born wimp.'
Laura took a big gulp of her drink. 'No hits, no runs, just one big error,' she said. 'So where do we go from here, Willie?'
The two ladies looked at me, expecting a brainstorm. They were both good kids but limited, if you know what I mean.
'I'll come up with something,' I promised. I always have.
Meanwhile, what say we go have some dinner. My treat.'
They were more than willing. We closed the door on the full ashtrays and lipsticked glasses and went to a high-class seafood joint on the Waterway, where we all had lobster, pasta, and a salad. We didn't talk about the ZAP pill while we ate, just traded crazy war stories and had a few laughs.
There was a young couple sitting at the next table with a little boy who was working on a shrimp cocktail. He looked to be a few years younger than Chester arrow, but maybe seeing him was what gave me the B e could convince the chemist to hand idea of how w over the pill.
I drove the ladies back to Laura's place, and then I returned to my own pad. My club was having an affair that night, a costume party called Fete Parisienne. I had rented the outfit of a cancan dancer, complete with black net pantyhose and ruffled skirt. I even had a mouche to stick on my cheek.
It was a good party with plenty of champagne, but there were two other cancan dancers, which spoiled the evening for me. The winner of the first prize was a policeman who dressed like Edith Piaf and sang 'La vie en rose.'
I got home around two A.m but I was too charged to sleep.
I thought a long time about my new scheme for getting the ZAP pill from Gregory Barrow. I was sure it was doable, but I'd need the help of Jessica and Laura. It would be heavier than anything I had done before, and if it got screwed up I knew what the result would be, five-to-ten in the slammer with all those swell people.
I finally got to sleep, and it was almost noon on Sunday when I woke up.
The first thing I did was phone Laura and ask if she could get Jessica over to her place at, say, three o'clock. She called me back about ten minutes later and said Jess was hungover, and didn't want to go out in the sunlight, but we could meet at her place.
So that's what we did. Both the ladies looked like they had hit the sauce pretty hard after I left them the night before. I mean their faces were puffy, and they held their coffee cups in both hands, a sure tip-off that they had the shakes. But they listened attentively enough while I explained how we could get Gregory Barrow to cooperate.
I finished, and they stared at me. Then they turned and looked at each other.
'I don't know, Willie,' Laura said slowly. 'It could be a disaster.'
'That's right,' I agreed. 'I wouldn't lie to you. But it could also go off without a hitch. Jessica?'
'It's a tough call,' she said. 'I've never done hard time and don't want to start now. Isn't there any other way, Willie?'
'I'm open to suggestions,' I said.
They were silent.
'Look,' I said, not wanting to push them, 'I don't expect an answer this minute. But think about itokay? If we pull it off, we'll be set for the rest of our lives.'
'And if it flops,' Laura said, 'we'll be set for the rest of our lives making license plates.'
'You've got it,' I said. 'The choice is yours.'
'Tell me something, Willie,' Jess said. 'If Laura and I include ourselves out, will you recruit someone else and go ahead with it anyway?'
'Sure I will,' I said. 'I think it's too good to pass up.'
That was a lie. If they said no, I was dead.
Here's something I want to throw at you. If there was a way let's imagine this-a guaranteed way that a married man or woman could cheat and be absolutely sure of never getting caught, how many faithful husbands and wives would there be in the world?
Makes you think, doesn't it?
Well, I was thinking about it. What happened was that I was still living on Hibiscus Drive in Rustling Palms Estates, even if I was sleeping in the guest bedroom. And every time I asked Marleen if she had seen a lawyer, she'd say, 'Not yet.'
So naturally I figured the crisis was just melting away, and I had overreacted by going to Dr. Chernoble. I called that off and started giving serious ry row without thought to how I could hump Mabel Bar getting caught.
Usually I had my fun and games in the woman's home, but I could hardly do that with Mabel, could I? And my Lincoln Towncar, roomy as it was, reminded me too much of my high-school high jinks on the lumpy backseat of a spastic Studebaker. , That got me to trying to devise a foolproof way of cheating with absolutely no possibility of discovery. I finally came to the sad conclusion there was none. But there were ways to minimize the risk, and after a lot of scouting I found a motel down near Fort Lauderdale.
It wasn't the most elegant hot-pillow joint in South Florida, but it wasn't cheesy either. Best of all, it was out in the boonies, and the chances of running into someone who knew me or Mabel were practically nil.
I checked the place out. It was summer, customers were few, and the owner was perfectly willing to rent by the day. And he impressed me as the kind of guy who wouldn't give a damn who I had as a visitor. Also, there was an ice-vending machine in the lobby, and for an extra five bucks you could get a vibrating bed.
All the room lacked were mirrors on the ceiling.
It was fun to plan all this. It was like I had come to a final realization that I was a bastard, always had been, always would be. If I was the way I was, why not relax and enjoy it?
Soulsearching was a waste of time. If my wife was willing to put up with my shenanigans, who was being hurt?
Right about then Marleen decided we should have the Barrow family over for dinner.
'Can't we skip it?' I asked her. 'Or postpone it?'
'No,' she said in that bossy way she had. 'We owe them.'
So I didn't make waves. Thinking about it later, I decided it might not be such a bad idea after all. It would give me a chance to diddle Mabel and, by contrast with her dweebish husband, convince her that life offered
