The Grand Mayor of Kempinski, Larcquo Hednut, came on stage and presented Pepsi with the prize: a greenish-gold Bone of the Moon that was shaped like a whistling face.
People and animals cheered and applauded. But the most interesting thing to me was that when the presentation ceremony was over, the majority of them filed out of the theater exactly as they'd come in: no hosannas were sung, the victor wasn't carried out on people's shoulders. . . . Old women scolded their grandchildren for dawdling, and two yellow lions tried to decide on where to eat dinner.
I waited a while and then walked down to the stage. Hednut had his arm on Pepsi's shoulder and from the serious look on the mayor's face, was in the middle of talking man-to-man.
«Pepsi?»
«Hi, Mom. Hednut says he knows Martio.»
The other turned to me and bowed deeply. «Weasel tippler, thread clock.»
We were back to Sizzling Thumb-talk. Where was Mr. Tracy?
To my surprise, Pepsi let out his silliest laugh. When he'd calmed down a little, he spluttered out, «Did you understand that, Mom? Hednut says the last time he saw _you_, you always lost your shoes!»
As Hednut rattled on and Pepsi followed, I realized too well that he understood this crazy talk word for word now. I clenched both fists very tightly and was scared. The second Bone, or Pepsi's growing powers, or something equally strong was quickly taking him far away from me toward . . . what?
«Mr. Tracy, I don't understand _anything_.»
Our friends had been waiting for us outside the amphitheater. All three congratulated Pepsi and admired the Bone, but for the most part they were very cool about his recent accomplishment.
«If building these 'Wind's Lips' is supposed to be such a big thing, how come everyone in there was so ho-hum about it after he did it?»
«Because it's been done so many times before, Cullen. You did it too when you were young.»
«I did? _I_ built those Lips?»
«You did.»
«And I won the Bone? The exact same one?»
«Yes.»
I sucked the inside of one cheek before going on, «What happened after that? After I got it?»
«There are five Bones, Cullen. Do you remember their names yet?»
«Yes, all of the names came to me today when we were walking around town. Obnoy, Kat, Domenica, Slee and Min.»
«That's right. Together they represent the Four Strokes of Rondua and the capital, Kempinski.
«If someone wants to rule Rondua, they must possess all five of the Bones. What's wonderful about the rule is that to acquire each one, a person must posses a certain good quality. For example, to find the first, Obnoy, one must be loved; must be lov_able_. Taken together, these qualities are what would make someone a great ruler.»
«Obnoy was the one I gave to Sizzling Thumb?»
«You gave him your _half_. Only Pepsi's was important. The one he achieved this afternoon, Kat, could only be got with imagination and inventiveness. Rebuilding 'The Wind's Lips' for Kempinski proved he had those qualities.»
«But you said even I built them once.» I watched Pepsi walking in front of me, his small white hand resting on the camel's large brown flank.
«Yes, when you were a girl we were all very excited because you grabbed up the first four Bones so quickly. We were sure you would be the next ruler. We had great hopes.»
«But then I flopped, eh?»
«Then you flopped.»
«Why? What did I do wrong?»
«For the Fifth Bone. Min, you needed very great courage, and you didn't have it.»
«Uh oh.»
We walked on in a gloomy silence, my eyes hard on my little son's small back. I had a bad, dry taste inside my mouth. «Is he going to be in a lot of danger, Mr. Tracy?»
The dog smiled cheerlessly and dipped his head yes.
6
Weber Gregston called me.
«What do _you_ want? How did you get my number?»
«From the phone book. I called all the Jameses. Look, I've got to talk to you. I'm sorry for what happened.»
«Fine, you're sorry. Now go away. Leave me alone.»
«I can't, it's too important. Please don't hang up, Cullen. Look, I _have_ to see you.»
His voice was human and fragile. It was as if we were both fifteen and he was asking me out for a first date. I was positive his hands were shaking.
«Weber, tell me something, okay? Are your hands shaking? Tell the truth.»
He laughed. «Yes. How did you know? I took my gloves off a minute ago because they were so hot.»
«Telepathy. What do you want to talk about?»
«I want to apologize. I want to tell you. . . . Look, I have to see you. You have to say yes, just give me a few minutes.»
«I don't know. Your reasons are lousy. I accept your apology, but what else is there to talk about? You were rude, you're apologizing, so now it's over. _Basta finito_.»
«Cullen, I've been standing in this . . . in this phone booth for half an hour, sweating bullets and dialing wrong numbers. You don't know how damned hard it was for me to get up the nerve to get in touch with you. I'm telling you the truth.»
I didn't change one piece of clothing (although I was tempted to) or put on any makeup. I took Mae along in her stroller for added insurance. The first time I had met Weber Gregston, I had tried to look like a dream. Now I looked like the «Before» part of a dandruff commercial.
I met him a few blocks from the house. He stood on a corner with his hands in the pockets of a Gianni Versace leather jacket I had seen advertised that month in _Vogue_. It was beyond beautiful, and the kind of thing you'd think a famous movie director _would_ wear. I liked seeing his big bulk in it; it softened some of the hard edges of his tough-guy face.
«Oh, am I glad you came! Is that your baby?» He looked pleased.
«That's my baby.»
«Hello, baby. What's his name?»
«Mae.»
«Hiya, Mae. Funny name for a boy.»
Despite an earlier resolve to be cold and skeptical with him, I burst out laughing. I love people who say funny, crooked things. Weber looked at me, genuinely surprised I had laughed at his joke.
«What do you want, Weber? Don't pull down like that on your pockets. You'll stretch the leather.»
«I feel nine years old, Cullen. I've been thinking about you for a week. I was supposed to be in Florida today, but I stayed here because of you. Honest to God! Because of you!»
«Don't sound so astonished – you'll ruin the compliment! I don't understand, Weber. The last time I saw you, you were nasty and fresh. Today you want to go steady with me. I think you'd better go to Florida.» I checked Mae to see if she was still properly tucked in.
«No, it's not that simple. There's more to it. Can we go somewhere and talk?»
«Nope, but I have some shopping to do and you can come along if you like.»
«Okay, I guess that'll have to do. Are you sure you don't want to have a sandwich? We can take Mae and get him a hamburger.»
I was enjoying my little, momentary power over him and wasn't about to give it up for a sandwich. «No. You either go with us to the market or _niente_.»
Once inside the market, he slipped on a pair of battered hornrimmed glasses which made him look very different – sort of like a red-headed Clark Kent.
He caught me sizing him up in them.
«You know where I got these glasses? Aren't they ugly? They belonged to my grandfather, Zolie Dale. Everyone in the family called him Zolie Dale the Illiterate though, because he couldn't read. Isn't that a terrible handle to give someone?»
«How did you get the glasses?»
«That's the interesting part of the story. The last time I ever saw him, he was sick in bed with stomach cancer, he told me to take the glasses when he died and have them changed to my prescription. 'That way, boy, they'll be able to spend part of their life reading up on all the things they missed.'
Weber switched into a perf
ect Southern accent when he pretended to be his grandfather.
We left the stroller in the doorway and he slid Mae into the baby seat of the metal cart. It felt strange doing these small, familiar, intimate things with someone so famous. For a while I dreamed I was in a movie with him; somewhere off in the distance was a camera and a whole slew of people watching us shoot the scene. «Take One – Cullen and Weber in the supermarket. Roll 'em!»
He tickled Mae under the chin. She was wholly unimpressed and looked at him stonily.
He pushed the cart while I walked alongside, checking my shopping list and stealing glances at him whenever I thought he wouldn't see me. We'd picked up milk and baby food before he started talking.
«I had to find you, Cullen. Have you ever had that feeling about a person? They make you crazy? Who _are_ you?»
«Helen of Troy. Weber, what are you talking about?»
«I'm talking about being fucking _haunted_ by you. I don't usually get hit by women, and I never get hit and then want to see them again, that's for sure.»
«Weber, I'm married. I have the beautiful Mae, as you can see with your own eyes, and I just ain't interested. Besides, you're famous and have the reputation for being very mysterious. What woman wouldn't be fascinated by that? That's the most romantic combination there is.»
«_You_ don't want it. I can't be too romantic if you're giving me the brush-off in a supermarket.» He looked around. «In between the nacho chips and the onion dip. Hey, I forgot to ask, where did you learn karate? You know, when you bopped me like that? My chest hurt for an hour afterward.»
«Hey, man, you're Weber Gregston, right?» A punk with fingernail clippers for earrings grabbed Weber by the arm. I was intrigued to see how he would handle it. On second thought, I got scared when the thought crossed my mind that Weber might just punch the kid on the chin.
I was wrong. He stuck out his hand to shake. «Yes, I am. Hi! How are you?»
«Fuck you, man. I think your new movie's the shits. Ha! I bet none of those asshole critics ever told you _that_!»
Weber's face was impossible to read and I realized my body had tensed up.
«Well, okay, you hate them. I'm sorry about that. We'll be seeing you.»
«And this is your little wife? Shit, Bigshot Weber Gregston in a market! Where are the Cocoa-Pops, Mr. Director? You gonna do a close-up of her by the TV dinners?»
I assumed Weber was going to heave him into the frozen foods. Instead, he started making crazy faces at the boy. His mouth went up and down and his tongue came out. Then he rubbed his forehead back and forth and turned it bright red. It was something to see.
The punk didn't know what to do. He'd expected some kind of «Gunfight at the Market» but instead got Weber Gregston going crazy on him.
To make things worse (and funnier), Weber started bumping him with his chest and saving the names of cities, still making those faces the whole time.
«Detroit! Louisville!» Bump.
«What's your problem, Gregston?»
«Phoenix. Boise.» Bump. Bump.
The punk looked at me, angry and defenseless.
«What's with him?»
«Houston!» Bump. «Shreveport!» Bump.
«You fuckin' nut! You can't direct and now you're nuts!» He stepped back and hit a potato chip display; then he picked up a bag as if he was going to throw it but decided to disappear instead.
«Creep! Wacko!» He walked fast down the aisle, checking us over his shoulder all the while.
When he was gone, Weber shook his head and looked down at Mae. His performance had caught her fancy and he had her full attention. He smiled and wriggled his tongue at her and she cooed.
«Where was I?»
«Does that happen to you a lot?»
«Right after a film comes out sometimes. They put my picture in the paper. . . .» He shrugged. «Cullen, what am I going to do about you? Huh?»
I stopped and looked at him square-on. «If I'm so enticing, how come you were so mean to me the other day?»
«Because I'm a pig and sometimes people scare me. I wanted you and thought you were different from the way you are. It's part of the stupid game. Who knows? Cullen, look, I don't remember people's faces. But ever since we met, all I've done is walk around with yours in my head. How long were we together, half an hour? And you want to hear the weirdest part? As soon as you knocked me down, that's when I started wanting you. When you first came in the room I just thought, here's a good-looking woman; let's see if she's interested. But after you _hit_ me, I couldn't get you out of my mind. That's the absolute truth!»
We walked on in silence and I found the rest of my groceries. At the check-out counter, he tried to pay for them but I wouldn't let him.
When we were outside, we stood for too long looking carefully at each other. That's Weber Gregston, famous movie director, Cullen. And he wants you. What do you think of _that_!
«Did you really call up all the Jameses in the phone book?»
«Every one – you were the seventeenth. Check it out in the book. It took me three days to get the courage to even pick up the phone.»
Another silence and then I reached over and straightened his collar.
«I'm completely honored, Weber, but we can't. I like who I'm with and I like who I am. Finally. You know what I mean?» He smiled and nodded and looked at his shoe. «It took too long to get here and I don't want to chance throwing it a way. There's a big part of me that would _love_ to have an affair with you, but I'm just not going to do it.»
«There's not even a chance? We could go to the movies or something.»
He didn't even know what he was saying anymore, and that touched me more deeply than anything he had said so far. The irony of his last sentence almost went by unnoticed as a result. Then he grinned and touched my arm. «I hear the new Weber Gregston film is a real piece of shit. You heard what the guy in there said. You wanna go?»
The moment had passed and we were on comfortably safe ground again.
«Naah, I already saw it eleven times.» I looked at his chest. «That's a beautiful jacket, you know. Don't ruin it by sticking your hands in the pockets like that.» I looked at him and he smiled for a second, than let it fall away. «Weber, there's no chance. I am glad you came shopping with us. Mae too; she hasn't giggled like that in a week. You make funnier faces than I do.»
He kissed his fingertips and touched them to my forehead. «I'll see you. Jesus, I'd better stop thinking about you.»
I watched him walk away, then I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes. Queen for a Day.
«Package for James.»
I undid all of the locks and opened the door for the United Parcel Service man. The box was brown and large and for me. No return address and no sign of what store it came from. A surprise from Danny or my parents?
When I pulled the tissue paper aside and saw what it was, I groaned and sat back on my haunches. A Gianni Versace leather jacket exactly like Weber's. The stuff that dreams are made of. Brand-new and smelling – even there in the box – as heavenly as only a new piece of beautiful clothing can smell.
«Oh, Weber. Oh boy!»
The middle of the afternoon and it was snowing again. I wondered if he was somewhere in the city in this snow, or else under a Florida orange tree very far away.
The jacket was a size too large, but I liked that. It reminded me of wearing my boyfriend's letter sweater back in high school. I walked around the room for some time with my hands in my new pockets, feeling pretty damned special and glamorous. I showed Mae, but she was more interested in her mobile. All this was followed by a long posing session in front of the bathroom mirror.
I discovered the envelope in the inside front pocket. Knowing who it was from and wondering what it would say, I opened it but then only held it in my hand before daring to take out the letter and read what was written there.
«First there's Pepsi and Mr. Tracy and now Weber Gregston. My God!»
The handwriting was unexpected
ly small and «straight-A student» careful. I smiled and touched my lips when I saw it was a poem.
_NIGHT MEDALLION_ by Daniel Mark Epstein
My woman is sharper than new truth,
a clean bullethole in thick glass.
Winter cuts its teeth on her, the sun
cuts its hand on her,
She's too hot for the beach, the golden sand
Goes all to white crystal under her.
She's too proud, the full moon is her mirror.
When she turns from me I see her face
in the rolling window of heaven
and when she conies barefoot to my bedside,
holding a candle,
an elf skates on my heartstream.
Eager candle, milk my mind of treasons.
She's young and I want to fill her with my world.
Cullen,
Now you and I are twins. If you don't wear this jacket I'll kill you. Just make sure you don't pull on the pockets. . . . Here too is my address and number in Florida AND the key to my house in Remsenberg. That's near Westhampton, out on Long Island. It's very beautiful there; almost too beautiful. The house is on a bay right smack in the middle of a bird sanctuary. The family who owned it before me named it «The Laughing Hat» and it's an appropriate name. It always makes me feel good to be there, which isn't very often nowadays. I've written the address below. Lots of addresses today. Please go on and use it whenever you like. Knowing you're there would make me very happy. Please be sure to leave dirty glasses in the sink so I know you were there. I'm serious!
I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned, this thing between us isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. You must have hit me with some kind of wonderfist because I _cannot_ stop thinking about you. Even now.
This is what I wrote back to Florida:
Weber, thank you _very_ much for the world's most beautiful jacket. I've never had anything like it. I don't know what to say other than I'll take good care of it. Your kindness is unfairly huge. I don't think I'll ever use your «Laughing Hat» house, but I like having the key on my ring.
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