Billy looked over and shrugged. “I was a mess. They were offering me a big career advancement. I wasn’t that crazy about my boss in the first place, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of doing what they wanted me to do to him.”
And then the movie started. Instead of the usual cheesy dubbing, it was the English language version with Spanish subtitles. Early in the film, Sir Thomas More is summoned to Cardinal Wolsey’s headquarters, a day’s trip down the river. Wolsey informs him that King Henry VIII wants More to publicly endorse his plan to divorce his wife. To support the King would require More to compromise his religious and moral beliefs, which he refuses to do. He travels home through the night and arrives at his dock the next morning exhausted. There he is met by Richard Rich, the young man who will eventually betray him.
Rich is an intense scholar, tormented by self-doubt and alarmed by his own ambitions and his weaknesses. Rambling, he tells More that he’s decided to go into politics.
Billy had sat alone in the dark theater, spellbound, as the scene unfolded.
More tries to warn young Rich to stay away from politics. He tells him of the bribes and the other temptations that the wealthy and the powerful would use to corrupt him.
“A man should go where he won’t be tempted,” More tells him. “Why not be a teacher, Richard? You’d be a fine teacher. Perhaps a great one.”
But if I were just a teacher, Richard replies, even a great one, who would ever know it?
“You,” More says, “your pupils, your friends, God—not a bad public that.” And then he gives a wistful sigh. “Oh, and a quiet life.”
Billy paused.
Lou waited.
“Two weeks later,” Bill said, “we left Nicaragua.”
Lou looked toward the horizon. The colors had faded. The sky was light gray.
He said, “That’s beautiful.”
“More like embarrassing.”
Lou turned to him. “Embarrassing?”
Billy shrugged. “To trace the turning point in your life to a scene in a movie.”
Lou looked puzzled. “Why?”
Billy sighed. “Makes you realize what a basically middlebrow person you really are.”
Lou laughed. “I have news for you, Billy. Middlebrow is where life is lived. Down here on ground floor—with Elvis, Evita, and E.T.” Lou winked. “Not a bad public that.”
Lou finished his beer and stood. “You want another one?”
Billy looked at his empty bottle and nodded. “Sure.”
“I have to call home,” Lou said. “It won’t take but five minutes.”
***
When Lou came back out carrying two beers, the sky was dark gray.
“How’s everything at home?” Billy asked.
“Good.” He took his seat and handed Billy one of the bottles. “I’m bringing Katie and Kenny to the reunion. I called the travel agent this morning to make sure she dropped the plane tickets off at home. I just called the housekeeper to confirm the tickets got there. Everything is set. They arrive on June fifteenth. Two days before our big day.”
They sipped their beers and watched the lightning bugs start to appear.
After several minutes of silence, Billy cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to say this.”
Lou looked over. “What?”
“I didn’t find out about…about Andi until the day after the funeral.”
Off in the distance, at the edge of the parking lot, a street lamp came on. Lou shifted in his chair.
“It was too late for the funeral,” Billy said, “and then afterward I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. I didn’t know whether to send flowers or a contribution to a charity or what and meanwhile time kept passing and I kept thinking about what I should do but as each day went by it got harder to know what was the right thing to do and I guess I just sort of, I don’t know, ended up doing nothing at all because it seemed like too much time had passed but I want you know it wasn’t because I didn’t care because I did. I really did, Lou. She was a special person. I felt just awful—for her and for you and for your kids and…and—”
There were tears in Billy’s eyes. Lou reached over and patted him on the knee. “It’s okay, man.”
The moths circled the streetlight at the edge of the parking lot.
“I don’t understand how they can make that kind of mistake,” Billy said. “How can something like that happen?”
Lou watched the moths reel and whirl around the light as he struggled to keep his mind blank. He tilted his head back. The stars were coming out.
It was dark now.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Gordie glanced over again.
“Damn” he said. “I think she is smiling at me.”
Ray turned toward the bar. The chick was definitely a looker—and one helluva lot more sophisticated than you’d expect to find in a roadhouse in rural Pennsylvania. A tall blonde in a leopard print silk blouse, a leather miniskirt, and fuck-me pumps. Face out of a Vogue cover, legs out of a Vegas chorus line.
He grinned at Gordie. “So go ask her to dance, stud.”
Gordie glanced over at her again. “Yeah, I might just do that.”
He stared at her for a moment and then turned to Ray. “You think so?”
“For fuck’s sake, Gordie, you could talk anything to death.”
Gordie looked back at her. After a moment, he nodded. “Maybe I will.”
“Just fucking do it, you douche bag.”
“Oh, damn, she’s leaving.
Ray turned. “She’s not leaving, bozo. She’s going to play some tunes.”
They watched as she leaned over the jukebox. The tight skirt showed off long, tanned legs and a firm ass. She put two quarters in the slot and made her selection. A moment later, the opening guitar riff to the Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar” sounded over the speakers.
She turned toward them and started swinging her hips to the music.
She smiled at Gordie. “Wanna dance?”
***
Lou and Billy were watching a Yankees-Orioles game on ESPN when there was a knock on the door. Lou checked his watch and glanced at Billy with a frown. He went over to the door.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Gordie. Open up, Lou.”
Lou opened the door.
Gordie was standing there with a stunning blonde. She was almost a head taller than him.
“Lou,” he said, grinning, “this is Sheila.”
Lou reached out to shake hands.
“Hi, Sheila.”
She shook his hand. “Hello, Lou.”
She had a sexy, confident voice.
Lou glanced at Gordie, who gestured toward the door with his head, eyes wide. “Ray’s waiting for you guys back at the roadhouse.”
He put his arm around Sheila’s waist. “Sheila and I can stand guard for a few hours.”
Lou turned toward Billy, who quickly got to his feet and turned off the television.
“Sheila,” Gordie said, “say hi to Bronco Billy.”
Sheila laughed. “Bronco? That’s cute.”
Billy blushed. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Sheila was staring past him at Sirena. “Wow, what is that thing?”
“That?” Gordie said with a dismissive wave. “Just one of those lawn ornaments.”
He turned to Lou and gestured toward the door. “Ray’s waiting for you guys. He’s lonely.”
Billy paused at the door and turned toward Sheila. “There is some beer in the bathtub.”
“Thanks, Bronco,” Gordie said. He gently pushed Billy through the doorway. “We’ll take care of things here.”
Gordie gave them a wink and closed the door.
Lou and Billy stared at one another as they listened to the deadbolt lock sn
ap shut on the other side.
Lou shrugged and smiled. “Let’s see what’s on tap.”
Chapter Thirty
Sheila giggled. “You’re a real stitch, Gordie.”
Gordie finished his second beer and stood up. “Time for a refill.”
He paused at the bathroom door and turned toward her. “Another beer?”
She shook her head, holding up her bottle. “Still have plenty.”
Gordie used the toilet, brushed his teeth, did a quick sniff check on both armpits, sprayed on another layer of Right Guard, cupped his hand in front of his mouth and breathed out, rearranged his thinning hair, checked his front and side profiles in the mirror, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and reached for the door.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, the lights were way down in the bedroom—the only illumination coming from a lamp in the corner that had a towel draped over it. Sheila was standing by the boxspring unbuttoning her blouse. Gordie watched from the bathroom doorway as she slipped it off, revealing a frilly black push-up bra.
“Have you ever done Bungee jumping?” she asked.
“Uh, no. I’d like to but I haven’t gotten around to it.”
He watched as she unzipped her skirt, let it drop to the floor, and stepped out of it.
She winked at him. “It’s very stimulating.”
Gordie stood transfixed. It was as if a Victoria’s Secret model had just walked out of the catalogue and into his motel room. She was wearing black satin string bikinis cut high on the hips, a black push-up bra, and black spike heels.
She turned toward the dresser and reached for her purse. He stared. She was tall and slim and toned. Her panties were a snug black triangle framing a firm, round butt. She pulled something out of her purse, set it back on the dresser, and turned toward him. She gave him a mischievous smile.
Dangling from her left hand were four Bungee cords. She grasped the loose ends of the cords in her other hand and pulled them taught in front of her. It made her breasts swell against the cups of her black bra.
“Do you know what’s even better than Bungee jumping?” she asked.
“No,” he said, his voice hoarse.
She moved toward him, her smile shifting into a leer. “Bungee fucking.”
***
“You have to admire the purity of it,” Lou said.
“Why?” Ray leaned back and gestured toward the stars. “Unless you believe there’s someone up there keeping score, Lou, the guy pissed away half his life on nothing.”
The topic was Ronnie, the roadhouse bartender that Ray had been talking to when Lou and Billy showed up a half-hour ago. The three of them were now upstairs on the rooftop patio, where they had a panoramic view of the highway and motel and, farther off, the cornfields and silos. They were leaning back on their chaise lounge chairs and gazing at the canopy of stars overhead.
“Still,” Billy said, “I do admire his dedication. He had a dream. He devoted ten years of his life to pursuing it.”
“And failed,” Ray said. “Totally.”
He popped the tab on a can of Iron City beer and took a sip. “Never got higher than Triple A ball. What’s he got to show for it?”
“He knows he tried,” Billy said. “He knows he gave it his best.”
“No, Bronco,” Ray said. “All he knows is he’s a loser.”
“That’s not fair,” Lou said as he followed the arc of shooting star. “He gave it his all.”
“And failed.”
Lou said, “Just because you fail doesn’t make you a loser. Failing to try is what does.”
Ray chuckled. “Since when did you start writing epigrams for Hallmark Cards?”
“I don’t know why you are so cynical,” Billy said.
“He’s not,” Lou said. “It’s all a pose.”
“Pose my ass. Someone’s got to maintain the edge.”
“Maintain what?” Billy asked.
“The edge. Look what’s happening to our generation, dude. Loose-fit jeans. Low-fat ice cream. Lean fucking Cuisine, Led Zeppelin unplugged.” He paused. “Led Zeppelin unplugged? I mean, what is the point? I say plug ’em back in, crank ’em back up, and kick out the jams, motherfucker. We’re only here for a short time anyway, and I sure as hell don’t plan to spend it cruising down the slow lane and listening to some balding rock star play ‘Heartbreaker’ half-speed on an acoustic guitar.”
“I kind of like the slow version of ‘Layla,’” Billy said.
Ray’s voice filled with mock compassion. “Don’t go soft on me, big guy.”
“Ah,” Lou said, “it’s all coming clear to me now.”
“What is?” Ray asked.
“You.”
“What about me?”
“That you’re full of shit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This cynical crap.” Lou shook his head good-naturedly. “A complete masquerade. You’re a bigger sentimental fool than the rest of us.”
Ray snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Lou was smiling at him.
“What?” Ray said.
“This.” Lou made a sweeping gesture. “You, me, Bronco, Gordie, Sirena—this whole crazy quest. It sure wasn’t my idea, Don Quixote.”
“Call me Sancho,” Billy said.
“I think we’re all Sanchos on this bus,” Lou said. “Except our driver.”
Ray was grinning. “Only thing makes me sentimental, boys, is money, and there’s going be a whole truckload waiting for us at Remington Field on June seventeenth.” He turned to Lou. “Speaking of which, what are you going to do with your share?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“And?”
“I’m doing fine. The firm pays me well.”
“Go on.”
Lou paused. “I have this client—a mom—a widow actually—quadriplegic—two little kids. A terrible accident. It’s a long story. I’m handling her appeal, but the odds are pretty steep.”
“You’re going to give her your share?”
Lou shrugged. “Maybe.”
Billy suddenly sat up. He pointed toward the northern part of the sky. “Look.”
Another shooting star. The watched the night sky in silence.
After the star vanished near the horizon, Billy said, “That girl Gordie met is pretty.”
“Pretty?” Ray said. “She’s a total babe. Probably screwing his brains out right now.”
“He’s due.” Lou took another sip of beer. “Let’s hope she makes it a memorable event.”
Chapter Thirty-one
It was certainly off to a memorable start.
Gordie was naked and spread-eagled on the box springs, his wrists and ankles lashed to the bed frame by the Bungee cords. Sheila was straddling his waist, her knees on either side of his chest. Gordie gaped up at her, nearly blinded by lust, as she reached behind and unsnapped her bra. Every part of him felt aroused. He’d never been so turned on in his life.
Sheila tossed her bra onto the carpet and bent over him. Her swollen nipples brushed against his chest as she bit him gently on the neck. She raised herself until her perky breasts swayed inches above his face, her nipples like cherrystones.
She stared down at him, her eyes half closed.
“Bite me,” she whispered.
Gordie lurched upward, but the Bungee cords stopped him just shy of the target.
“Come on,” she teased. She raised herself a little higher. “Try harder.”
He strained against the cords, his body shaking, his mouth snapping closed on nothing but air. He fell back, gasping.
“I can’t reach,” he said.
Her smile faded into something far more businesslike. “Good.”
She got off the bed and picked her bra up from the floor. Gordie watched, anxious
for whatever was coming next. He felt as if he were mainlining pure lust.
Sheila walked around him, bending to study the bungee cord connections. She slipped on her bra and snapped it in the back as she moved toward the dresser.
“Come on,” Gordie said. “I’m dying.”
She reached for her purse and looked inside. He watched eagerly. Maybe she was going to pull out one of those sex toys. A French tickler? A cat-o’-nine-tails? He was up for anything. Anything.
She snapped her purse closed and reached for her blouse. He watched as she slipped it on.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
She turned to him as she buttoned the blouse. “Sorry, Gordie. I think this is kind of shitty.”
A wave of dread passed over him. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “A girl’s got to make a living.”
“I don’t understand.”
She pulled on her leather skirt and zipped it up as she walked over to the door.
“Oh, my God,” Gordie moaned. “Don’t do this to me.”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob, her back to him.
“Please,” he begged. “At least untie me.”
Her shoulders seemed to tense for a moment, but then she shook her head and opened the door. She stepped out without looking back, leaving the door wide open.
“Everything’s ready,” he heard her say.
“Wait in the car,” a male voice answered.
Gordie felt a jolt of panic. Who was that? The voice was familiar.
And then Frank Burke stepped through the door. Behind him came Reggie.
Frank was carrying a flashlight and a small canvas attaché. Reggie had a walkie-talkie. Frank flashed the light in Gordie’s face and then swung it around the room until the beam fell upon Sirena.
Smiling, he turned back to Reggie. “Nice, eh?”
Reggie nodded as he rubbed his hands together. “Outstanding. Most definitely.”
“You fucks!” Gordie said. “That statue is ours.”
Frank came over to the bed. “Not anymore, little guy.”
“Fuck you!” Gordie leaned his head back and shouted. “Ray!”
The Sirena Quest Page 16