Part 14 (2/2)
”Okay,” said Dolliver, spotting the wa.s.sail bowl. He filled a punch cup and had a sip. It burned all the way down. He set it carefully aside and began to eat, grimly and seriously, right where he was standing.
He hadn't eaten in two days.
”I'm from Navarro, myself,” said the other. ”Back up the river. So, how'd you come to be here?
Long way from home, huh?”
Dolliver introduced himself and told his story in all its humiliating detail: the company layoff, the unemployment error, the closed-out savings account, the eviction; then the ultimate finger from Fate, the old girlfriend who'd invited him out to spend Christmas with her. By the time Dolliver had blown his last cash on bus fare and got to Mendocino she'd made up with her husband and changed her mind about the invitation.
”Wow, man, that happened to me,” said the other, looking delighted. ”Mv old lady threw me out of the trailer this afternoon.” Bingo, thought Dolliver. ”This guy at the Christmas tree lot f.u.c.ked with me about my bonus, so there was like-no money I just started walking and wound up here. Verbal Sweet,”
he said, and Dolliver was mystified until the other extended his hand for a shake and he realized that Verbal Sweet was the man's name.
”Nice meeting you , Verbal,” he said.
”You're a college grad, huh?” said Sweet.
Dolliver admitted he was, for all the good it was doing him now, and Sweet closed one eve and nodded shrewdly. ”Bingo! I thought so, the way you talk.”
Meanwhile the stockbrokers had sat down and begun to eat. The waiter sighed and folded his hands in front of him. Then he looked up sharply: the girl with the black pageboy bob had come in and was approaching the buffet, alone.
”h.e.l.lo, Billy,” she said, picking up a plate.
”I was wondering if you were even going to notice me,” said the waiter quietly He looked anguished.
”I've got a lot to say to you, actually, but this isn't the time,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. She tilted her head, staring down with a coy expression at the platters of beef and venison, as though she couldn't make up her mind. She swung a finger to and fro over the dishes. The waiter's eyes widened.
”If you're going to insult me-”
”No.” She looked up, and there was nothing playful about her now. ”Don't take it like that. So much has happened, Billy. I've been thinking a great deal about this. If we could talk-”
The waiter had looked incredulous, but he glanced up into the room and then hissed: ”What good will it do to talk now?” Out loud he said: ”Yes, Ma'am, that's a thirty-pound turkey. We had it in a pen behind the smokehouse. It's been fed apple mash, so the meat's very rich-”
”Helene.” The other man, the one who'd been whispering in her ear, approached and put his hands on her shoulders. ”Dear, I'm sorry. But this means an awful lot to Dad.”
”Whoa! Lovers' triangle,” said Sweet. ”What do you want to bet she's cheating on him?”
Dolliver just shrugged and kept eating. The waiter stared straight ahead, expressionless and pale, as the girl sighed and leaned back against the other man. Her voice was querulous as she said: ”What does it mean to you, Edgar?”
”Well, I-of course I want it too, you know that!” he said.
She just pursed her lips. Beef or venison?
”Dessert time,” said Sweet happily, and served himself a piece of blackberry pie. ”And you know what's over there at the bar? Honest-to-G.o.d French Champagne. I'm getting me a gla.s.s. You want any?”
”Sure,” said Dolliver. ”Thanks.”
”Edgar, I don't care to discuss this right now,” said the girl, stepping away and selecting the beef at last. Edgar said: ”All right. But think about Christmas, Helene. Think what it could be like in a couple of years. The little tree, a little stocking, toys. Wouldn't that be wonderful?”
”Sweets to the sweet,” she said cryptically, and the man smiled. The waiter coughed and excused himself, fleeing through a side door into what was probably the kitchen.
”Here you go,” said Sweet, returning from the bar. He handed Dolliver a gla.s.s of champagne.
Dolliver set down his plate and drank gratefully. Sweet looked furtive and raised two fingers to his lips, miming smoking a joint. He said, ”So, uh, you got any-?” Dolliver stared a moment before he got it.
”Oh! No, sorry.”
”d.a.m.n. Well, okay. Maybe it's not a good idea to get too messed up, what with us being here and all. We might slip through a time warp or something and I ain't in any hurry to go back yet, are you?”
Dolliver set down his gla.s.s and reached into the fruit bowl for an orange. He said, ”Not especially.
It's not as though I've got anything I'd miss.”
”Me either,” said Sweet. ”But it's kind of a shame we're invisible.”
”We were already invisible!” Dolliver snapped. ”You think anyone back in our own time sees people like you and I? Even at this time of year? A run of bad luck and a dirty coat makes you a phantom, man.”
Sweet listened patiently to his tirade and then went on: ”Yeah, but wouldn't it be great if we could wow everybody with computers or something? We could, like, invent TV ahead of its time and get rich.”
”Do you know how to make a television set?” Dolliver asked him. Sweet's face fell.
”No.”
”Then that wouldn't work, see? But you could buy stock that'll do well,” said Dolliver. ”Like International Business Machines.”
Sweet looked blank. Dolliver tried again: ”Or Coca-Cola, for example.”
”Oh, yeah,” exclaimed Sweet. He warbled a few bars of the latest c.o.ke jingle, then frowned. ”Wait a minute, you mean like the stock market? Oh, no way. You can lose money like that, I always heard.
But I got an idea. If this goes on-” At this moment the two men who'd been arguing about radio reception came to the buffet and shouldered Dolliver aside, completely unconscious of his presence.
”No, it was the d.a.m.nedest thing you ever saw,” said one of them, setting down his punch cup and reaching for a plate. ”Why, it was nothing like the movies, and all in color, too. But you'd need a lot more than a radio tower for reception, yes, sir!”
”The fellow's name was Baird, you say?” inquired the other. ”Say, this could be big! I wonder if he's looking for investors over there?”
”Let's go back to the fireplace,” suggested Sweet, and he and Dolliver took their desserts and drinks and went into sprawl on the sofa.
”Here's what we do,” said Sweet, forking blackberries into his mouth. ”We go upstairs to the rooms where everybody's suitcases are, right? And we help ourselves to whatever they got, same as we did with the food.”
”Steal?” Dolliver stopped peeling the orange. He thought about it a moment and slowly his hands started moving again. ”Why not? They're all a bunch of useless boozers, and dead anyway-I mean, by our rime. If they didn't notice the food disappearing, maybe they wouldn't miss jewelry. If they've got any.”
”All these rich people?” Sweet looked scornful. ”Of course they got jewelry with 'em. Didn't you ever watch any old movies? Ladies used to wear necklaces and stuff a lot more than now. And they'll have cash, too.”
”No good,” Dolliver told him, having another sip of champagne. ”All their cash would be the big old Federal Notes.” Sweet frowned at him in incomprehension and just at that moment one of the stockbrokers came to stand in front of them, warming his hands at the fire. ”I'll show you ,” said Dolliver, and feeling absurdly pleased with himself he leaned forward and slipped the man's wallet from his pocket.
”Smooth,” laughed Sweet, applauding. Dolliver opened the wallet and fanned the outsized bills.
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