Part 24 (2/2)

”No s.h.i.+t.”

I blinked at the first vulgarity I had ever heard Max use.

I also blinked at his appearance. He wore a black pin-striped suit with black s.h.i.+rt and a white tie. I looked down and saw he wore s.h.i.+ny black shoes. His unruly white hair was tamed by gel and sc.r.a.ped severely away from his bearded face. The ensemble was topped off by a black fedora with a white hatband.

He looked like a hippy who'd been cast in a Guys and Dolls Guys and Dolls revival. revival.

As Lucky continued talking, Max glanced down the aisle and saw me walking toward him. ”Oh, excuse me, miss? We're looking for . . . Esther? Esther?”

”Max?”

Lucky's jaw dropped. ”Kid?” ”Kid?”

Nelli's tail wagged harder, expressing her happiness at the reunion.

I said to Lucky, ”What did you do to Max?”

Lucky preened. ”Ain't I a genius?”

”I should never have left the bookstore today,” I said with conviction.

”Oh, dear,” Max said fretfully. ”Do I not look the part?”

Lucky said, ”Ignore her. You look perfect. But don't say 'oh, dear.' Say 'f.u.c.k.' ”

”I can't say that!”

”Then say 'Madonna' 'Madonna' or 'bite me.' ” or 'bite me.' ”

”It's a lot to remember,” Max said, starting to look fl.u.s.tered.

”You'll do fine.” Lucky gave me a stern look. ”Tell him he'll do fine.”

I nodded. ”You'll do fine, Max.”

”But, Esther, is my ensemble not convincing?” Max asked.

”Well,” I said honestly, recovering from my shock, ”I am not the expert on what will make these guys take you seriously. Lucky is. So let's go with his judgment on this.”

”Exactly,” said Lucky. ”And may I say, kid, even without my help, you did a great job. You could almost be Danny's eldest daughter.”

”He lets his daughter daughter dress like this?” dress like this?”

Lucky asked, ”Where's Father Gabriel?”

”In the crypt.”

”Everything's all set up?”

”You are are going to pay him for all that food, aren't you?” going to pay him for all that food, aren't you?”

”Won't have to,” Lucky said. ”Danny called for the sit-down, so he'll make a big donation to the church when he gets here and sees the spread. He's a vicious b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but he knows what's right. At most, I might have to pay for the wine.”

”There is no wine.” I explained why not.

Lucky shrugged, then nodded.

Max asked, ”So . . . we won't need to ask for a receipt?”

”A receipt?” Lucky said. ”At a sit-down sit-down?” Suspecting the source of Max's sudden interest in fiscal paperwork, I said, ”Did you receive another letter from the IRS today?”

”Yes. It appears to be a litany of dreadful threats. It's most distressing,” Max said morosely. ”It also doesn't really seem to be written in English. That is to say, the words words are English, but they make no sense.” are English, but they make no sense.”

”That sounds normal,” Lucky muttered.

”I wonder if this is all because Mercury is in retrograde?” Max mused.

”Okay, what does that mean?” I said.

”It's astronomy,” Lucky said.

”Astrology,” Max corrected. ”When Mercury, the astral body that rules communications, is on the other side of the sun from Earth, then communications here become confusing and difficult. It happens three times per calendar year, on average, because Mercury's solar orbit is so much smaller than Earth's. And while Mercury is in retrograde, which typically lasts for about three weeks, letters get lost, messages get garbled, comments get misinterpreted, people have trouble keeping their appointments, and so on.”

Lucky looked alarmed. ”Let's hope everyone keeps tonight's appointment. We got serious business to discuss!”

I thought about how hard it was for Lopez and me to get together lately, and about my trouble communicating with my agent to get the audition I wanted; I'd left another message on his answering machine late this afternoon. I also thought of my missing evening wrap and the lack of communication about it between Father Gabriel and Mrs. Campanello.

”How much longer did you say will Mercury be in retrograde?” I asked anxiously.

”Oh, another ten days,” Max said. ”I wonder if the IRS will stop hara.s.sing me then? Or at least make more sense?”

”You want I should take care of this little problem for you?” Lucky offered.

”No!” I said sharply, forgetting about my communications problems as I envisioned the implications of Lucky's question. ”I will look over Max's IRS correspondence when I have time. will look over Max's IRS correspondence when I have time. You You will stay out of it, Lucky.” will stay out of it, Lucky.”

Lucky looked annoyed by my tone. ”Whatever. Max and I will go downstairs and have a word with Father Gabriel now. Esther, you stay up here and direct all the arrivals to the crypt.”

”Of course,” I said. ”It's how I've always longed to spend a Tuesday evening.”

14.

After everyone arrived at St. Monica's for the sit-down, I wasted an hour of my life watching wiseguys stuff their faces (and, boy, can wiseguys eat) and listening to them brag about the women they had bedded and the punks to whom they had taught a lesson. Realizing that if I was alive at the age of one hundred, I'd still look back on tonight and regret this squandered hour of my sojourn on this planet, I took Lucky into the stairwell to have a quiet word with him.

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