My sandwich— ham, pork, Swiss cheese—tasted great, much better than a Yumbo.
“I saw the preview for a movie,” Mary’s eyes lit up. “The story takes place in this spooky hotel. The hallway fills with blood!”
“I didn’t know you liked scary movies.”
“Love them, silly! Let’s go!” Carrying the rest of my sandwich, I hurried after her.
When in the Shining Jack Nicholson kissed the rotted, naked corpse, Mary trembled and put her hand between my legs. I grabbed a handful of popcorn.
Samuel turned uncomfortably in bed.
I did ask Mary to dance.
We went to a Country and Western bar in Homestead. A drunk, Asian girl taught us the two-step. I twirled Mary, closed space with her, opened it, quick stepped, slow stepped, slid…she moved stiffly while looking at me.
“Why don’t you have a better office?”
“I don’t need one,” I answered. “Change your mind? Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m tired,” she said.
In the parking lot, the night starless and cold, Mary stood arms at her side as I kissed her for the first time.
“I like you,” I told her.
“You’re nice too.”
“How about a movie on Saturday? You pick it.”
“Sure. Give me a call.”
When I did, a recording answered.
“We’re sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”
I redialed. Twice. Drove to her apartment building, slowed down, then sped past.
“All those years, you never forgot me,” Mary says.
“You invited me to your birthday party,” I explain.
“Did I? I don’t remember.”
“I once thought the colors I saw were variations of gray. When we met again, after so many years, your eyes brought van Gogh into my office.”
“Thank you!”
“But you didn’t love me. Now I don’t even see shades of gray. When you left, the colors did too.”
“Not mine! I have rows of cosmetics! Look at me! I’m more than beautiful green eyes. I’m beautiful all over!”
Samuel slept the rest of the night without dreaming.
2
He waited at the elevator, Ginger, the big breasted prostitute, next to him.
“Going to see Mr. Sullivan?” Samuel asked her.
“I’m so close, Mr. Baas! Just a little more and I’ll have enough for my operation!”
“That’s great, Ginger.”
Harley Clag stepped between them.
“Be a sport, Baas, take the next one,” Burly, a knobby scar across his chin, his bulging stomach straining the buttons on his uniform, he took Ginger by the arm and walked her into the elevator. Samuel saw him lift her skirt as the door closed. Five minutes later the bell sounded, the elevator returning empty to the first floor.
No love, just sex. Is that what I did too?
He got on and, for the ride up, kept his eyes closed.
“Morning, Vera.” Samuel tried to sound cheerful.
“That’s right, it’s morning, and I’m in here working unlike his so-called secretary. She traipses in whenever she likes. Guess that’s what a short skirt does for you. Maybe I should start wearing one.”
Samuel thought Vera’s baggy clothes covering most of her gray, wrinkled body, a much better idea. He understood why Vera hated Tammy. Although she couldn’t type, didn’t understand legal terms, and had no organizational skills— instead of a calendar and appointment book, Tammy kept hairclips, brushes, and bottles of nail polish on her desk—she had qualities Vera couldn’t match. Young, blonde and sexual, Tammy did most of her work with Mr. Sullivan in his office. She was the woman clients greeted, joked with, while ignoring the chain smoking old woman grumbling inside her cubicle. Always respectful and friendly, Tammy brought Vera coffee and a doughnut every morning. Vera gathered the offerings in but never looked up at her.
“You’re a great secretary,” Samuel said.
“I know it. Show some appreciation. Make more money.” Vera hacked into her sleeve.
“Ever think about cutting down on your smoking?”
“Ever think that isn’t any of your goddamn business!”
“I just don’t want you to get sick.”
“I’ve been smoking for 50 years and it hasn’t killed me yet!” She cackled and lit up.
Samuel saw Ginger leave Mr. Sullivan’s room.
“Do you have a second?” he asked her.
“Sure, Mr. Baas.”
In his office, Samuel shut the door.
“This is for you.” He handed Ginger fifty dollars. “I know it’s not very much.”
“Depends on what you want,” the inviting, slightly flirtatious tone of her voice that of a woman experienced with men, her eyes sad under lashes clumped with mascara.
“I don’t understand.” Then he did. Samuel blushed. “No, nothing like that….I just want to help. Your operation…”
“Oh God! I’m sorry! For a moment, I thought I was wrong about you. When I come here, it isn’t just for money. Mr. Sullivan is my friend. I’ve always respected him—and you. I’m really happy that hasn’t changed. Do you know why I want my breasts smaller?”
“I, uh, never thought about it…”
“May I sit down, Mr. Baas?”
“Of course.” He pulled up a chair next to hers.
“That’s all people ever see about me,” Ginger began. “It started in fourth grade. I developed early. The boys thought this gave them the right to feel me up. I was a good student. I enjoyed reading and I wrote poems. No one cared about that. My face broke out. I wanted to be liked so I used sex. On prom night I was in the back seat of a car while girls in pretty dresses danced. My body made me who I am. When I change it, I’ll change myself. The cop in the elevator…Had the door closed?”
“Yes,” Samuel answered.
“I think you saw. I’ve known him a long time. Clag patrols where I work. We have an understanding. He followed me into Mr. Sullivan’s office and started telling dirty jokes. I hope he left.” Ginger got up. “I appreciate the money, Mr. Baas. Thank you for listening.” After peeking into the hall, she hurried out.
Samuel understood her. He also had a different person inside him.
He again began reading about Nazi Germany and the death camps. What had started as background research, a way to prepare for Mr. Gleba’s case, had become something more. When learning that assimilation or conversion to another religion didn’t stop the SS from gassing or shooting anyone born a Jew, Samuel realized that despite all the large Christmas trees his mother had Minnie decorate, his father’s love of pork chops, and the family’s detachment from the Jewish community, under Nazi rule he and his parents would have been killed.
I was born a Jew therefore I am a Jew, but what kind?
“Busy?” Clag stepped into the office.
Samuel closed his book.
“Her face is fucked up but who cares. She’s a nice piece of ass, don’t you think? Come on, Baas, don’t act like a choirboy around me. You know what I’m saying. Kept your door shut, didn’t you?”
“We were talking.”
He laughed, his grizzled face a gray, meaty contrast to his bright policeman’s badge.
“Only one I know who talks to her is Jimmy! Always thought that strange. He fucks everything else. He’s a goddamn
rabbit! We’ve had some wild times together!”
“I’m not interested,” Samuel said.
“I’ll make sure you are about this.” He walked over to the desk, his large body now right in front of Samuel. “Jimmy’s a gambler. Big news, right? He’s always in Vegas. I love him like a brother but he’s a sick bastard, just the kind of addict loan sharks like. He’s too smart to borrow from them but fucks himself another way. He sells cocaine then pisses the money away at the crap table. Every buy it from him?”
“No…”
“Yeah? Well maybe not, but everyone else does. The dentist across the hall, the art dealer two offices down, the jeweler, the real estate agent, the goddamn candlestick maker if this building had one! Jimmy uses law clients, the low-life ones, as mules. I know what’s happening. It’s on the street. I’ve told him. He’s playing with fire and it’s just a matter of time before one of his customers is caught or the goods are found on a mule pulled over because of a fucking busted taillight. Those shit heads will flip in a heartbeat and sell him out. Then he’s looking at fifteen years. I want you to get through to him.”
“What makes you think I can?”
“He’ll hear it from someone other than me. Jimmy feels safe on Miami Beach. I’d protect him if I could but I’m not the Feds. The day he’s arrested this law firm is over. Most of his clients have money and are loyal to him. They aren’t douchebags like the mules. You’re a hireling who, when he’s gone, will be back handing out business cards in front of your Little Haiti storefront.”
“I don’t work for Mr. Sullivan,” Samuel said. “I pay him rent.”
Clag grinned unpleasantly.
“Don’t fool yourself. He’s your boss. Do yourself a favor and talk to him before he leaves on his next gambling trip. Convince him he should listen to me and stop pretending he’s beating the system. He isn’t, and time is running out. As for Ginger, if you haven’t tapped into that you’re either a fool or queer. See ya, Baas.”
Alone in his office, Samuel thought about Mr. Eldridge.
Could I have helped him? Spoken to Mr. Smith or father and taken the pressure off? Maybe if I had tried, he would still be alive.
Seeing Tammy at her desk, Samuel knocked on Sullivan’s door.
“It’s open!”
While continuing to talk on the phone, he motioned for Samuel to sit down.
“You’ll get the check, you always do. Have I ever forgotten? Three days late and you want to go to court. That’s ridiculous. The only one who makes out by doing that is your lawyer. What? No, Gertrude, I didn’t send Hannah her money first. Or Cindy. The three of you, Christ, it’s a lot of alimony. I have to budget. I’m not a bank! I’ll tell you what I told the other two. I’m going away for a few days and when I’m back, next Wednesday, you’ll all be paid. What’s that? Bring it to you?” An imaginary gun to his head, Sullivan looked over at Samuel and pulled the trigger, his head falling to the side. “Of course I’m still listening. But come on, Gertie, you know how crazy the other two get when they think I’m with you! It’s understandable. You’re the beautiful one. OK, Wednesday and dinner. No lawyer, right? See you then dear.”
Sullivan looked at Samuel.
“Don’t ever get married. So, what can I do for you?”
“Officer Clag was in my office a few minutes ago, and…well…he wanted me—” Samuel stopped when seeing Sullivan’s expression change. Usually good-humored and friendly, his face an expansive, ruddy cheerfulness, Sullivan now looked like the street tough boxer who, although losing most of his fights, had always bloodied his opponent.
“I know,” Sullivan said coldly. “There’s no need for you to tell me anything. Harley is a good friend but he sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ll handle my own affairs. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” Samuel answered, again not wanting to call Mr. Sullivan, Jimmy. This time Sullivan didn’t correct him.
“Have you phoned Margaret yet?”
“No…”
“But you will, right?”
“I promise.”
“And you’re a man of your word.” The sun through Sullivan’s wall of widows turned his hair fiery red. “Do me a favor. Tell my secretary I want to see her.”
After Samuel did, Vera, like an old tortoise sticking its head out of its shell, peeked over the top of her cubicle at Tammy who adjusted her bosom before clicking on high heels into Sullivan’s office.
“She called.” Vera thrust a phone message at Samuel. “Going to lunch?”
“I am a little hungry.”
“I bet. You know what I think. She pulls the strings and you jump! You’ll never learn. Men are idiots!” Again peering across her wall, Vera watched Sullivan’s door.
Samuel’s heart continued to beat fast. He hadn’t seen Kate in a year.
He didn’t need the address. While driving to South Miami he thought how beautiful she always looked, her hair styled, face made-up, her short, orange, stewardess uniform revealing legs long and sleek. She’d greet him with a kiss on the cheek, the rising lust below his waist making him feel too alive. After their lunches she would leave to jet away and he’d return to his routine life again painful because he still loved her.
A small bank and the Aquarius Café on opposite corners, the block of new age businesses in-between sold art supplies, potions, and die-dye T-shirts. Samuel parked at the restaurant and going inside saw Kate watching the door. He walked over to her table in back of the room.
“I’d hoped you come,” she said while twisting the napkin in her hand.
“My secretary thinks I can’t tell you no.” Samuel smiled.
When Kate didn’t get up and kiss him he sat down.
“How have you been, Samuel?”
“Great. Working. Living. No uniform?” She wore a brown velour tennis jacket with matching pants, slightly torn.
“I’m a little cold. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, Kate, I didn’t mean anything.”
Years ago when meeting her at the Gables Court pool, Samuel thought Kate plain except for her dark eyes. The next day she transformed, cosmetics and blow-dried hair making her beautiful. The airline kept her that way. Now, despite her makeup, she looked tired. Even her eyes had faded.
“What can I get you?” the waitress asked, popped a bubble in her chewing gum.
“I’ll have a banana smoothie and bean sprout sandwich,” Samuel said.
“Just tea,” Kate said.
“Not eating?” he asked her.
“I know what I want.”
Another crackling pop, and the waitress left.
“The girls working here come and go but everything else stays the same,” Samuel picking a subject he thought Kate wouldn’t mind talking about. “A few potted plants, macramé on the walls, that old Buddha incense holder. They don’t spend much on decorations.”
“The room stinks. The smoke makes me itch.” She scratched her arms.
“We can try someplace else.”
“Drive all over town? Maybe that’s your idea of a good time, it’s not mine.”
“Jesus, Kate, you’ve been snapping at me since I got here. What have I done?”
She slammed her fist on the table.
“You’ll never learn! Why do you always think everything is about you!”
The waitress served the tea and food. Kate lifted the teacup, immediately put it back down when her hand started shaking.
“I have trouble sleeping,” she said, her voice flat.
“With all that flying you do, I’m not surprised.”
�
�I need you.” Kate looked at him.
Samuel felt the surging push of blood expand not only flesh but hope. After all these years, was she again interested in him?
“I’ll do whatever you want.” He reached for her hand. She moved it away.
“I’m dating someone.”
Although all of him suddenly shriveled, Samuel didn’t show how he felt.
“Jason, right? You told me about him.”
“That he was a prick?”
“No, that you two were going out.”
“Old news. My new boyfriend’s an artist. Very sweet, most of the time. Look, Samuel, I want to be straight with you. I’m not flying anymore.”
“You’re in the airline’s office?”
“They fired me.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. Rory’s trying to sell his paintings and I’m working in a grocery. We could use some money.”
“How much?”
“A couple hundred. Can you do that? I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“I’ll write a check.”
“I need cash.”
“OK, no problem. Want to tell me about your new job?”
“Let’s go to the bank,” Kate answered.
His drink and sandwich untouched, Samuel paid and they left. He remembered how Kate’s hair had floated in sunlight. Now it hung limp and thin; her tennis outfit fell loosely over her bony body.
“Christ it’s hot,” she said while walking quickly ahead. Outside the bank, Kate stopped and caught her breath. Samuel went in and on returning, handed her an envelope.
“That was quick. I told you two hundred.”
“All there. Want to count it?”
“Don’t be an ass.” Kate held the money tight.
“Can I give you a ride?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Samuel watched her walk away.
He didn’t feel sad. He knew she would call him again.
Gables Court Page 21