one who can pronounce it correctly. If you could pronounce it correctly you would have true enlightenment. But of course this is true of any name. If you could pronounce your own name correctly you would have true enlightenment.' He looked up at Andrea with the expression of a puppy-dog who is certain that this time he has pleased his master, but all she could do was return a frank admission of confusion.
'I can see you are not getting the point.' He folded his arms in a dignified manner. 'Let me summarize what I just said. My private cruise ship, the True Enlightenment, leaves tomorrow at eight o'clock in the morning with a full booking of 982 passengers for a three-week Caribbean cruise. An hour ago I learned that Lawrence Welk had cancelled his contract to provide the entertainment because the hot air might adversely effect his champagne bubbles. Or maybe it was his adenoids. If he has any. Whatever they are. Anyhow, since I'd met you before under… shall we say, intimate?… circumstances, I thought I'd drop by and offer you an irresistible $3,000 to replace Welk and his goofers as the resident entertainment. All expenses paid. Eight Now. Three weeks. Good summary? So, as I said before, will you come?'
'Huh?' Andrea's brow furrowed with perplexity.
Sean sidled over to her. 'You know, your brow's furrowed with perplexity.'
'Listen,' the Guru said indulgently, 'I didn't expect you to take a freak show like this on faith.' He clapped his hands. One of the wrestlers hurried to his side. 'Oh for Christ's sake. Et Cetera. I told you that when I clapped that meant to bring the money!' He turned apologetically to Sean and Andrea. 'Sorry. This is only a dress rehearsal. Of course there's never any real show… '
The ape lumbered off and returned with a pair of saddle-bags draped over his arm like a towel. The Guru took them, smelled the leather, commented on the demise of its vivacious fecundity, and then opened them up. He fished out a sheaf of bills. '$3,000. In hundreds. Cash. As real as any money. You could turn it into francs, pounds, deutschmarks, yen… back and forth around in a circle. Not counterfeit. Except in so far as it's money, which is counterfeit for happiness.' He sneezed. 'I've got to get rid of that line. It's trite. Juvenalia. Anyhow, to make a long story short, that's what I'll pay you if you pack up and make it down to Pier 52 before eight-thirty in the morning.'
Andrea swayed uncertainly. 'What… what do you mean, we've met before under intimate circumstances?'
'The plains of Thermopylae?'
'Huh? Oh yeah. Bullshit.'
'Except for one thing I forgot to mention. It was raining. Very hard. Just like earlier tonight.' Andrea's head spun. The storm. The feeling there was someone, something, somewhere, watching her… with her… And then the fortune cookies. Rock of Ages. Everything. She stared at him for a long moment but his vibrant blue eyes revealed nothing but blank innocence-as though all he'd done was make a business offer and wait for a response. Finally she leaned forward and whispered, 'The Nothing Nothings. Isn't That Something?'
The Guru giggled as though taking pleasure once more in an old, old joke. 'I doubt it. At least, nothing like a hot dog. But I'd relish your company.'
Sean hopped down from the stage to examine the sheaf of money at close range. He'd never seen so much money before. He wasn't sure he remembered what a hundred dollar bill was supposed to look like. Was it really Franklin's picture that was supposed to be on it? It looked awfully good. He turned to the Guru. 'Is this on the level? $3,000 for a three-week cruise?'
'I can't promise it'll all be on the level. Ships roll, you know, despite gyroscopic stabilizers, and I have minimal influence with tropical storms. But if you think the bread's going to go poof, why don't you take your peter out of the oven?'
'Yeah. Sure. Do you always talk in riddles?'
'Never. That's the problem. Anyhow, make up her mind, if that's your job, because I've got an appointment with the Fairy Godmother of the Eternal Equinox in three and a half minutes. Got to figure out how to paint shuffle board courts on the rear smokestack.'
'Naturally.'
Sean leapt back up onto the bandstand and he and Andrea retreated into conference. 'Look,' he began, 'this is the weirdest thing I've ever heard of… shit, life is flying off its hinges lately… but if this guy's really who he says he is… Baalow Nee?'
'It's him,' Andrea assured him. 'Now that I look closely I recognize him from his picture.'
'Well shit then, he's got to be on the level. Some level. Because he's an established phenomenon. A going concern. He's got a reputation to protect. Something. Right? Anyhow, three grand isn't to be sneezed at.'
'Yeah, but the whole idea tickles my nose.'
Sean laughed. Andrea got more serious. 'Look, do you think I ought to do it-whatever it is?'
'I'd really hate to see you split for three weeks just when we… well, I guess it's pretty obvious what we… but shit, why not?'
Andrea couldn't resist. A leap into the unpredictable. A fat hop into a zany zoo. There was no way she was going to let that Guru out of her sight until she got some questions answered. There had to be rational answers, but she wanted them. So it all boiled down to… what the fuck? But she'd only do it on one condition. She turned to Sean. 'Will you go?'
'I wasn't invited.'
'So-hell invite you or I won't go.'
Before Sean could answer the Guru bellowed, 'Bring anyone you want! I don't care! Bring your mother, your uncle, your cook, your skuncle, your favorite schnook… just make up whatever there is of your mind! You're getting a five-room suite, for Christsake!'
'Son of a bitch, that guy really does hear everything,' Andrea muttered. She paused while Sean thought it over. The Guru sure talked funny. Your uncle, your cook, your skuncle… Your cook! 'Hey,' she said, 'I'm going to ask Joe Lee if he wants to go.'
Sean was still musing. 'I guess it doesn't make much difference if I finish up my book at home or on a boat. Besides, when I was done I could start a fuck-book about you. There'd be lots of weird shit I could throw in.'
Andrea turned to Baalow Nee but he beat her to the punch. 'I see you've decided.' He threw the sheaf of money onto the stage. 'Pier 52. Any time before 8:30 in the morning. I'll sent a couple of my girls with you to help you pack.' He flopped down into his sedan chair and motioned for his attendants. 'Let's blow this fire trap before it burns down!'
He surveyed his bevy of dithering pulchritude. 'Princess Summerfallwinterspring!' A petite, dark-eyed girl slithered out of the crowd. A few feathers floated down off her gaudy headdress and her doeskin dress climbed halfway up her bare ass as she bowed. 'Take Virginia Vagina with you and help these freaks get their shit together.'
A tall blonde, slender but ostentatiously buxom, her blue gauze dress revealing about all there was to be revealed, joined the Princess and blinked at Sean in a manner meant to be seductive. The Guru grinned his satisfaction as the apes jerked his sedan chair aloft. The chorus took up the chant,
'The Is Is Not, 'The Not Is Is, 'The No Touch Shot 'Will Never Fizz!'
and the procession receded onto the street like an ebbing tidal wave of Fellini extras.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'I'll be fucked,' Andrea murmured, leafing through the pile of bills in her hand and eyeing the two girls before her with stark amazement. 'What the hell. Let's get going before I come to my senses.' She packed up her guitar, peeled off a couple of hundred dollar bills, and handed them to Sean. 'Give these to Bert.' Bert was the manager of Folk City. 'Tell him I'm sorry I had to fink out on my contract-right in the middle of a gig no less-but this ought to make up for it and besides he knows a dozen performers as good as I am who can make it down here in half an hour.'
Princess Summerfallwinterspring and Virginia Vagina babbled nonsense to each other and trailed after Sean and Andrea as they hot-footed it around the block to the Little Chink in the Great Wall. 'Hey Joe,' Andrea cried upon bursting into the restaurant, 'pack up your wok! You're going on a trip!'
