Part 13 (2/2)

I spotted the van again near the supermarket. The folks inside never said a word and never made a move toward me.

I walked into D'Agostino and bought three prime lamb chops, some fresh spinach, and a head of garlic. I went home and put the groceries on the kitchen table. But the moment I opened the bag I realized that I didn't want to eat. I just wanted to sleep. I walked out of the kitchen and collapsed on the divan.

CHAPTER 12.

Monk's dream Paris.

I am down in the Metro. The Les Halles stop. I am blowing my heart out. I never in my life ever sounded so grand.

There is not another soul around. Yet my high white silk hat is overflowing with gold coins.

Suddenly the cops show. They are all ferocious Senegalese wearing impenetrable aviator shades. They've come to get me, take me away. And they aren't being gentle about it.

I'm thrown into the back of a van, screaming, protesting my innocence-of whatever the charge may be.

The handcuffs go around my wrists.

You stole those coins! one of the flics shouts to me in his barking dog French. And he upends my hat and pours all the money into my lap.

I look down at the coins. Embossed on each one is the head of a fierce looking rooster.

Suddenly all the coins begin to bleed profusely. Within seconds, I have a lap full of warm, sticky blood.

And then the telephone rings!

I had never been so happy to be roused from sleep.

I picked up the ringing phone and heard ”Hey, what are you wearing?”

”Ah, come on, Walter. You're making obscene phone calls now?”

He laughed heartily. ”No. But I am planning to be obscene with you in person. Which I hope is gonna be in a few minutes.”

”Are you coming up?”

”Not exactly. I want you to come down. You're hungry, aren't you?”

”Of course.”

”Okay. There's a hip place on First and First. The steaks are great and this Creole brother behind the bar's got a martini with your name on it. Get on down here. And I want you to wear something nice.”

Martini? What was I-a businessman? ”Walter, are you sober?”

”Not completely. I just feel good.”

”Did something happen at work?”

”Just get dressed and get here, Nan. Take a cab. And don't wear no overalls, okay?”

So I grabbed a taxi, driven by, thankfully, a brother who was downright eager to get me in his backseat. He beat out two other cabbies who were heading toward me like ICBMs. We were at First Street-in hippie renewal territory-in no time.

Ooo la la. My lucky night. The French hostess in the leopardskin leotard was glad to see me too. Maybe management would be willing to pay Walter and me a few bucks a night to lend a little dark ambience to the joint.

”Hey, baby.” Walter took me in his arms and kissed me, reluctant to let me go, it seemed.

I finally broke from his embrace and took a seat next to him at the bar.

”Walter ...”

He kissed me again, lightly, on the ear.

I had once accused him of behaving like a jealous housewife, but now it occurred to me that he was doing the cla.s.sic guilty husband routine-overplaying the love bit because an infidelity was weighing on his conscience. If he pulled a box of chocolates out of his briefcase, I was going to deck him.

The bartender, Creole or not, was seriously cute. I'd take a 'tini from his tapered brown hands any day of the week. He smiled at us and left a little dish of olives next to my gla.s.s.

”Mind if we eat at the bar?” Walter asked. ”It's private up here.”

I looked past his shoulder into the hopping main room. A wave of high pitched conversation and laughter floated toward us.

”No problem,” I said.

”You look good, sweetheart.”

”Thank you, Walter. But what's your story? You're a little overstimulated, aren't you?”

He chuckled. ”I suppose you're right. I just-I came to some decisions today, that's all.”

”What decisions?”

”Number one, I'm quitting the job. Real soon. Another guy at the office-Morantz-Morantz and me, we're starting our own company.”

”Well, congratulations ... I guess. But isn't that going to be a pretty big deal? I mean, money and offices and staff and all that stuff.”

”It's gonna be covered. We've got an appointment tomorrow in Philadelphia. We sign up this client and we got it made. s.n.a.t.c.hing him right out from under the nose of the firm. And we are going to s.n.a.t.c.h him. Trust me.”

I raised my gla.s.s, and my eyebrows, in a wordless toast to him. ”And that's why I had to put on a dress?”

”No ...”

”Walter, you're acting dopey, you know that?”

”Nan, let me ask you something.”

”Yeah.”

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