Ossie, Bruce and Gabby.walked down the stairs with their
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respective meagre belongings. Suddenly they felt a yawning awkwardness between them. Nobody spoke. They went outside the Sunny Gables Hotel and stood on the uncomfortably hot sidewalk. Nobody seemed to want to make the first move. Then a new model Cadillac cruised along Ocean Drive and stopped right there by them. A bronzed, middle-aged man was at the wheel. Bruce and Ossie realized, with sinking hearts, who he was. He smiled handsomely and opened the door. Gabby quickly kissed Bruce and then Ossie and while they stood speechless stepped into the car and embraced the man. Then she leaned out of the automobile and dropped something into Ossie's hand. He looked down at it. 'It's the bullet we never used,' said Gabby. 'Maybe it was as well. It's a dud.' The car eased itself along the street and turned a corner towards- Washington Avenue.
'Jesus help me,' said Bruce at last. 'And I thought she was crazy about me.'
'And me,' shrugged Ossie.
If the pelican cruising along from the Keys towards Fort Lauderdale that May day had cared to note - and pelicans, being forever lost in thought, are not, as a general rule, observant birds - it would have seen small changes along South Miami Beach. There were fewer people sitting under the sea-grape trees along Ocean Drive, the terraces of the larger hotels, a few blocks to the north, were less populated and those that sat were off-season people. The waves were too dull for the surfers and the day too hot to encourage the rich widows to display themselves in their bikinis and pink boots. No students blew bubble gum at Hallendale. The voice of Station WAIA was hung with weariness.
'What can I say folks you don't already know. South Florida is having the hottest day of the year so far. Phew! At noon the pointer got to ninety-eight degrees and the humidity is way, way up. Roll on November we say, don't you? WAIA your music way, serving the golden coast from the Palm Beaches to Key West ...'
Lou the Barbender and K-K-Katy were practising for their wedding, sitting in her humid, gown-hung room, he perspiring
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in his tailed coat and stiff collar, she wearing her unused wedding dress. On the following day they were to be married. Sidewalk Joe, playing poker now beneath the sea-grape trees, was to be their special guest.
Ari the Greek waited until evening before he took his run. As he left Sunny Gables Hotel, which would be his home forever, the rival Nissenbaums came out, arms folded, for their evening confrontation. The sun had dipped dramatically, gorged and red, grinning after a day's demonstration of its prowess. A small, apologetic breeze arrived late from the Atlantic and fussed around like an inadequate rescue team trying to alleviate a large disaster. Ocean Drive was still warm under foot but once he had crossed the street towards the ocean Ari felt the little touch of the zephyr on his great nose and was grateful. He made a brief shadow-boxing turn and then began to jog towards the beach. He went very easily, at not much more than walking pace, but before he had cleared the sea-grape trees there was a sheen of sweat across his old brow. The concrete calendar on Ocean Drive showed it was 17 July, eight-fifteen p.m. and still seventy-four degrees. Ari poked his tongue out at it as he passed.
He was not surprised to see Molly Mandy on the beach, her metal detector performing its habitual concentric circles.
He approached from behind and noted how, in the reduced light, the big earphones clamped to her small head gave her the silhouette of Minnie Mouse. He smiled at the image.
Thoughtfully he made a detour, still jogging, so that he did not startle her. He was a dozen yards to her right when she saw him from the corner of her intent eyes.
'Hi, Ari,' she called.
'Hi there, Molly, hot day.'
'Sure was. You still running?'
'Still running,' he confirmed, increasing the pace of his jogging on the spot just to demonstrate the point. 'While I'm running I'm living.'
She nodded, acknowledging the philosophy. 'And I'm still looking,' she said, staring at the darkening sand at her feet. "Bye, Ari.'
' 'Bye, Molly,' he answered. He supped into gear and jogged
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away from her. She looked up from her search and watched him go. On impulse she called after him. 'Ari - you and me ought to go into business sometime.'
He slowed and jogged on the spot, half turned and then continued. 'Teeth,' he shouted back. 'Now there's a real good business. Teeth.'
THE END
Table of Contents
Section 1
That Old Gang Of Mine Page 25