Part 38 (1/2)
Ames took a sip of the whiskey and walked to the window, looking lithe, somehow, as well as small. After what seemed a long time, he said, ”Well, it's a fine night, isn't it. Nice and clear, nice fine moon.” He turned and tapped a cigarette out of a red package, lighted the cigarette. ”Hank,” he said, letting the gray smoke gush from the corners of his mouth, ”tell me something. What do you do for excitement?”
Prentice shrugged. It was an odd question, but then, everything seemed odd to him tonight. ”I don't know,” he said. ”Go to a movie once in a while. Watch TV. The usual.”
Ames c.o.c.ked his head. ”But--don't you get bored?” he asked, ”Sure, I guess. Every so often. Being a C.P.A. you know, that isn't exactly the world's most fascinating job.”
Ames laughed sympathetically. ”It's awful, isn't it?”
”Being a C.P.A.?”
”No. Being bored. It's about the worst thing in the world, don't you agree? Someone once remarked they thought it was the only real sin a human could commit.”
”I hope not,” Prentice said.
”Why?”
”Well, I mean--everybody gets bored, don't they?”
”Not,” Ames said, ”if they're careful.”
Prentice found himself becoming increasingly irritated at the conversation, ”I suppose it helps,” he said, ”if you're the head of an advertising agency.”
”No, not really. It's like any other job: interesting at first, but then you get used to it. It becomes routine, So you go fis.h.i.+ng for other diversions,”
”Like what?”
”Oh . . . anything. Everything.” Ames slapped Prentice's arm good naturedly. ”You're all right, Hank,” he said.
”Thanks .”
”I mean it. Can't tell you how happy we all are that you moved here.”
”No more than we are!” Ann walked unsteadily to the sink with a number of empty gla.s.ses. ”I want to apologize for Davey again, Lucian. I was telling Charlotte, he's been a perfect beast lately. He should have thanked you for fixing the seat on his bike.”
”Forget it,” Ames said, cheerfully. ”The boy's just upset because he doesn't have any playmates.”
He looked at Prentice. ”Some of us elders have kids, Hank, but they're all practically grown. You probably know that our daughter, Ginnie, is away at college. And Chris and Beth's boy lives in NewYork. But, you know, I wouldn't worry. As soon as school starts, Davey'll straighten out. You watch,”
Ann smiled. ”I'm sure you're right, Lucian. But I apologize, anyway.”
”Nuts.” Ames returned to the living room and began to dance with Beth c.u.mmings.
Prentice thought then of asking Ann what the devil she meant by blabbing about their personal life to strangers, but decided not to. This was not the time. He was too angry, too confused.
The party lasted another hour. Then Ben Roth said, ”Better let these folks get some sleep!” and, slowly, the people left.
Ann closed the door. She seemed to glow with contentment, looking younger and prettier than she had for several years. ”Home,” she said, softly, and began picking up ash trays and gla.s.ses and plates. ”Let's get all this out of the way so we won't have to look at it in the morning,” she said.
Prentice said, ”All right,” in a neutral tone. He was about to move the coffee table back into place when the telephone rang.
”Yes?”
The voice that answered was a harsh whisper, like a rush of wind through leaves. ”Prentice, are they gone?”
”Who is this?”
”Matt Dystal. Are they gone?”
”Yes .”
”All of them? Ames? Is he gone?”
”Yes. What do you want, Dystal? It's late.”
”Later than you might think, Prentice. He told you I was drunk, but he lied. I'm not drunk. I'm--”
”Look, what is it you want?”
”I've got to talk with you,” the voice said. ”Now. Tonight. Can you come over?”
”At eleven o'clock?”
”Yes. Prentice, listen to me. I'm not drunk and I'm not kidding. This is a matter of life and death.
Yours. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
Prentice hesitated, confused.
”You know where my place is--fourth house from the corner, right-hand side. Come over now.
But listen, carefully: go out the back door. The back door. Prentice, are you listening?”
”Yes,” Prentice said.
”My light will be off, Go around to the rear. Don't bother to knock, just walk in-- but be quiet about it. They mustn't see you.”
Prentice heard a click, then silence. He stared at the receiver for a while before replacing it.
”Well?” Ann said. ”Man talk?”
”Not exactly.” Prentice wiped his palms on his trousers. ”That fellow Matt Dystal, he's apparently sick. Wants me to come over.”
”Now?”
”Yeah. I think I better; he sounded pretty bad. You go on to sleep, I'll be back in a little while.”
”Okay, honey. I hope it isn't anything serious. But, it is nice to be doing something for _them_ for a change, isn't it?”
Prentice kissed his wife, waited until the bathroom door had closed; then he went outside, into the cold night.
He walked along the gra.s.s verge of the alleyway, across the small lawns, up the steps to Dystal's rear door.