Part 31 (1/2)
”Yup. And she told Melinda-Sue she had ugly feet.”
”Shoes and feet, again.”
”Yup. So I don't know what to do. I don't know how to act, if I should just pretend like I don't know her, either, or what. I can't tell if she's still p.i.s.sed off after all these years or not.”
”Real, sustained anger in Lenore is quite rare, I've found. Embarra.s.sment, though, is not. I would be willing to bet that Lenore is simply embarra.s.sed. When she's embarra.s.sed about something, she tends to pretend it doesn't exist.”
”You think that's why she sort of acts like she don't remember me, from that night, or Melinda-Sue?”
”It's very possible.”
”You say she works at Frequent and Vigorous too? So I'll be workin' with her?”
”Not directly. As of before we left, she answered telephones, at the Frequent and Vigorous switchboard, in the lobby, downstairs. But on this trip I've had a bit of an inspiration, I think.”
”An inspiration?”
”Yes. I think I've come to see that the switchboard is not a full-time place for a woman of Lenore's capacities. She is chafing, I'm almost certain.”
”Chafing?”
”Yes. I've come to see that it all adds up. The context is right. Lenore is chafing. She likes stories. To the extent that she understands herself, it's as having something like a literary sensibility. And you and I, here most significantly I, will at least for a while be occupied with the Stonecipheco project account. The crux is that I plan to put Lenore on my personal staff, part-time, as a reader.”
”A reader?”
”Yes, of pieces submitted to the high-quality literary review of which I am editor, the Frequent Review. Frequent Review. She can weed out the more obviously pathetic or inappropriate submissions, and save me valuable weeding-time, which you and I can spend on the Corfu project.” She can weed out the more obviously pathetic or inappropriate submissions, and save me valuable weeding-time, which you and I can spend on the Corfu project.”
”h.e.l.l of an idea, R.V.”
”I rather think so myself.”
”Yes indeedy.”
”Of course I'll have to make sure that her sensibilities are keened to precisely the right pitch for the Review ...”
”So we'll be workin' with her, but not exactly with her.”
”As far as you go, that is right.”
”Which works out good, because I'm not supposed to say what it is I'm workin' on, to her.”
”Yes, unfortunately.”
”And if she asks, I have to say I'm ... let me look at this ... I'm supposed to say I'm translating this thing called 'Norslan: The Third-World Herbicide That Likes People' into idiomatic modern Greek.”
”Correct.”
”But except we still haven't come to why exactly I have to say all this s.h.i.+t if she asks. If she's just an employee, how come it matters? And what does she care if we're tryin' to sell nuclear baby food on Corfu?”
”This is unfortunately not entirely clear to me, Andrew, and just let me say I'm far from qualmless about the whole situation.”
”You are of course already aware that Stonecipheco is controlled by the Beadsman family, to a nearly exhaustive extent, and I'll now inform you that Mr. Stonecipher Beadsman has stipulated in our contract that Lenore not know what is up in terms of Frequent and Vigorous involvement in the project until he wishes her to.”
”And you don't find that just a tinch unusual?”
”Charitable speculation about Mr. Beadsman's reasoning might suggest that he doesn't want to involve Lenore in any more unpleasantness than is necessary. Suffice to say that the whole Corfu marketing venture is bound up with some family turbulence that's worrying Lenore a lot, right now. Which turbulence is the main reason she and I came to Amherst, at all, so that Lenore might speak with her brother ...”
”The kid we had dinner with at Aqua Vitae.”
”Yes. Stonecipher LaVache Beadsman.”
”He was pretty G.o.dd.a.m.n wild, I thought. 'Course I have to admit I was kind of wasted. We drank all that in the f.l.a.n.g.e, and then you dragged me all over h.e.l.l's half acre through those crowds in the forest. s.h.i.+t I drank went to my head and roosted. He was wild, though, I could tell.”
”He's had rather a rough time of it.”
”Satanic little dung beetle, too.”
”Dung beetle?”
”Little dude looked like the devil. And what was all that about talkin' about his leg like it was another person? He would like address comments to his f.u.c.king leg. What was all that about?”
”Lenore's brother has only one leg. One of LaVache's legs is artificial.”
”No s.h.i.+t.”
”None whatsoever. Couldn't you tell?”
”He limped some, and he sat weird, but no.”
”He was wearing slacks at dinner. But he was wearing shorts when we first met him, on the hill. You didn't see his leg then?”
”R.V., that hill got blacker than a panther's a.s.s when we got up top. The sun went right the h.e.l.l down. It was darker than s.h.i.+t. I was wasted, too. I wouldn't have been able to even see Lenore, if she hadn't had that white dress on. And plus then I had to run right down to get my car over to Coach's, so I never really saw the sucker in shorts. I sure am sorry, though.”
”No need to be sorry. I was simply informing you of a fact.”
”Christ. What happened to his leg, then? How come they chopped it off?”
”No one chopped his leg off. LaVache was minus a leg from birth.”
”No s.h.i.+t. What, like a birth defect or something?”
”Not exactly.”