by G L Rockey
“You coming back, sing Saturday?”
“Sure 'nough.”
“Come over here, give me some more sugar.”
“Honey bun, I gotta run.” She left.
* * *
After Peggy left, Snakebite telephoned downstairs for Stella. She wasn't in yet. He called The Berry Inn. Stella just left. He called her cell phone. She answered, told him she was on the way over now. He asked her about Gillian, Carr. She said she'd see him as soon as she got in.
CHAPTER 37
Jack’s Time
After Berry departed my office, Gillian stewing around in my mind, figuring a course of action, Executive Producer Shari Fry came in, tapped her watch, said, “Ms. Moore isn’t here yet.”
Blancpain showing 4:45, I knew what she meant, Peggy, her five o’clock weather show.
Shari said “You want Andy to do it?”
Andy, our all-around announcer, weekend weather person, I said, “Your call.”
* * *
At 4:55 I noticed, actually heard, some loud banging coming from the vicinity of the news room. I glanced out my window and saw that Peggy had returned. I walked to Joy's desk. She had heard the noise too. She raised an eyebrow.
I got some fresh coffee, went back to my office and called Felix The Cat again.
Soon as he heard my voice, Angelo hung up.
* * *
Little after 5:30, watching the open to the CBS Evening News, I hadn't heard from Gillian which ticked me off, a little. She knew where I was. She could have called. Thinking about going over to Felix The Cat, Joy appeared at my door and said, “Jack, I'm going home, fresh pot of coffee, just in case.”
“Okay, thanks, see you tomorrow.”
“Be careful,” She said and left.
I had a thought. I called Sago, asked him if he wanted to drive over to Felix The Cat with me.
He wanted to know if I had a death wish. I told him I was getting anxious for Gillian. He said why don't you call her. After I explained he said some things an employee should not say to his boss and then he agreed to go to Felix The Cat in my stead, have a drink, chat with Angelo, check it out, see if he could get a message to Gillian. He had a news tape to edit for the late news, then he'd go.
I mulled that over for a second then told him, “Fuck Snakebite, I'm going.”
He said give me fifteen minutes, I'll go with you.
CHAPTER 38
Real Time
6:00:01 P.M. CDT
Gillian—jeans, white T-shirt, suede brown shoulder bag hanging from her left shoulder—stepped down The Haute Cuisine stairs into The Cat lounge to begin her shift.
Angelo, behind the bar, rings around his eyes like overcooked hamburger, beckoned her.
She went to him and he said, “Snakebite, he whans ta see ya, upstairs.”
“Can I change first?”
“I don’ think so.” He walked away.
* * *
Going up to Snakebite’s office, Gillian stepped around the litter on the stairs, down the short hallway, and arrived at Snakebite’s open door. Dressed in red briefs and a new white wide-brimmed cowboy hat, eyes drooping like cold syrup, a Marlboro 100 dangled from his lower lip. He held a bottle of Myer's Rum in his left hand. He stood, staggered to her, and smiled.
Gillian said, “Angelo said you….”
Like a cobra strike, he swung to smack her face but missed. He staggered then delivered a slap to her mouth.
Her natural reaction to take him down, chop to the throat, kick his teeth in, she held back, tensed, showed fear. “What the fuck?”
He smacked her again, grabbed her throat.
Reflexively, she reached for the straight razor in her shoulder bag, but stopped.
“You being, how do they say, relieved of your duties, you ain't no more a Kitten, get the fuck out,” he shoved her.
Her mind clicking megabytes, she had to get this scumbag, “But why, Snakebite, I like this job, I need the money.”
“Dumb bitch, yous shoulda’ thought about that before you went fucking around with that Carr guy. Yous saw me kick the shit out of 'em Friday night fer steppin’ on my hat, what'd ya think, we was buddies. Now get the fuck outta my place 'fore I change my mind, turn ya in for parts.”
“That's bullshit, Snakebite, who told ya I was fucking around with Carr?”
He lifted her T-shirt, lashed out with his tongue, licked her navel and said, “None a yer business.”
“It is my business 'cause it's a fuckin lie.”
He studied her eyes, “Si’ down.”
She sat in a chair by his desk.
He stuck his index fingernail into her forehead and positioned his face an inch from hers. “You’s sure yous ain't been sluttin’ ‘round with Jack Carr?”
“No … I mean yes, I'm sure, goddamn it.”
He slapped her face so quick the human eye missed it. “Don't lie ta me.”
“Snakebite, I….”
He pinched her nose and held her nostrils closed. “Don't never lie ta me, slut.”
She pushed his hand away. “That hurts.”
“I been told yas been seen with that prick Carr.”
“By who?”
“Nun a yer fuckin business.”
“’Ever it was is a liar.”
He smiled down at her, reached to his desk and produced a Glock 9mm. He pointed it between her eyes, “Okay, hows ‘bout you go burn Carr, tonight, bring back his nose.”
Her mind like a computer doing a word search, she pushed the gun away, “Dumb fuck, whaddaya gonna do then, call yer lawyer, get a new cowboy hat.”
He slapped her face. “Watch yer mouth.”
“Snakebite, Angelo said Carr's a TV news director, his best pal is some shit investigative reporter, waste Carr and every rock in Davidson County gets upended, don't take no genius to figure out who’d be behind his being wasted, after what you done to him Friday night … your operations will be on every six o’clock news this side of Memphis….” She let it sink in, then, “How many dudes saw him step on your hat Friday night … punch you….”
He raised his hand, “Watch it.”
“Think on it.”
He chewed on his lower lip for a minute pointed the Glock at her forehead, chewed his lip some more, took a drink of rum, then put the gun on his desk. “How’s come you’s seen riding him on you’s bike?”
Her mind racing, “Okay, damn it, okay, he's been after me, offered me a thousand bucks, wanted to go for a ride on my bike, has a fetish for leather and backsides, then when it comes to paying up the prick backed out.”
He pinched her nose again, “Yous think I'm a dumb fuck, you’s fuckin lying.”
“Ouch, check it out, he's a fuckin pervert.”
He thought a moment, took a swig, “I knew he was somethin’,” balancing himself, “I find out you’s lying, I cut your tits off.”
“Snakebite, look, I'm sorry, what can I do to make it up?”
“You’s moving to Memphis, work my new club.”
“How long?’
“We see….” He touched her breasts, wobbled, “How’s ‘bout a blow job?”
She stood, “You're drunk as a skunk and you smell like dog shit. Let me give you a massage, hot bath.”
“No more Carr.”
“Never was never no Carr, he's a loser, you can bet on it. I ain't never talking to that dude again. Besides, way you kicked the shit outta him, bet he ain't never gonna be seen around here again.”
He hissed, flicked his long black tongue out, reached up and licked her chin. Then he felt her breasts, tried more, but she said “My friend's visiting.”
“What fucking friend?”
“Snakebite, I'm having my period.”
“I like lots a blood.”
“Snakebite, let's get ya a nice hot bath, you stink.”
Very drunk, Snakebite finished the bottle of rum, phoned the bar and slurred to Angelo that he didn't want to be disturbed and ended with, “Gillin is still wit�
�� us.”
Gillian, walking Snakebite to the bath, stooped to turn on the hot water, heard a thump, turned and looked. Snakebite lay sprawled out and motionless on the floor.
A half hour later Snakebite woke up in his bed. Gillian sat in a chair reading a newspaper.
Woozy, Snakebite said, “What a fuck happened?”
“Snakebite, you don't remember? You was marvelous.”
He smiled. “Good ain't I.”
CHAPTER 39
Jack’s Time
On the drive to Felix The Cat, Sago kept saying, “You sure about this.”
There, we went down the outside steps and entered The Cat's lounge. Moderately full with patrons, Angelo, when he saw us, looked like that famous Gillette dog passing razor blades. At the bar, he wouldn't serve either me or Sago, said, “Be a good idea if yous two left as in yesterday.”
I said, “Gillian in?”
“I don’ know nutin … you should leave before something happens.”
I insisted, “Is she here?”
“Listen Jack, I tol’ you, doan come here no more, know whan I mean, she’s gone, said she doan wanna talk to you anyway. Jesus Christ, can’t you take a hint.”
I detected lie, went to the dressing room area. Angelo blocked the door.
“She ain't' here stronzo, now get out before you get your asstrominy realigned,” he mellowed, “look, Jack, she's gone, split, period, sentence, paragraph, end of fuckin’ story.”
“I demand to see her.”
Neon walked out of the dressing area. I asked her,” Is Gillian in there?”
She avoided my eyes.
I said, “What the fuck is going on?”
She walked away.
Angelo looked over my shoulder, said, “Please leave, ple—”
First time I ever heard him say please but it was too late. I felt a bear paw hand on my shoulder, turned, a guy in black was around six five.
Sago convinced me we should leave.
CHAPTER 40
Real Time
6:31:05 P.M. CDT
The TV12 6:00 P.M. news over, Peggy, sweat forming on her forehead, patted the moisture with a facial tissue and sat at her desk.
Night producer, Tonya, called, “Peggy.”
“What?”
“Mr. Frazer, line two.”
She threw a stack of paper copy on the floor and lit a Parliament. “Tell him to … tell him just a minute.” She looked at her disheveled self in her desk mirror, threw her hair brush at the wall, picked up the phone receiver, said, “Whaddaya want?”
Listening to Berry, studying the cherry polish on the fingernails of her right hand, she glanced toward Jack's window overlooking the newsroom. The drapes were closed.
Peggy said, “Snakebite is fine … yes, it went all right, lucky for you.”
She listened some more then said, “Yes, but not tonight.”
Examining her left hand nails, “Oh, all right. Just one. Okay. Be up in a minute.”
* * *
Berry's office door closed, Peggy knocked softly.
Berry called from inside, “Open sesame.”
She opened the door and stepped in. The door slammed shut. She turned. A flash of light didn’t surprised her. “I said not tonight….”
”Relax.” Berry, naked except for brief lavender shorts, gleamed with sweat. His Pentax camera hanging from a silver chain around his neck, he locked the door.
Peggy said, “I said not….”
“Relax.”
Resigned, she said, “Whoop de doo,” looked Berry over. “You all comfy,” and dumped her purse on his coffee table.
“Har har har,” he staggered to her and squeezed her breasts.
She smacked his hands, “Ouch, damn you, not so hard.”
“Meeting with Snakebite went okay, huh?”
“Ha, lucky for you.” Peggy lit a Parliament.
“Alll riiight.” Berry tiptoed around the bar, presented a plate with two lines of cocaine and, taking two swizzle stick straws, handed her one and put the other to his nose and inhaled quickly.
Rolling his eyes, Berry said, “Whew, how about a cold Manhattan South? Got a whole pitcher in the fridge.”
“Why not?” Peggy sniffed.
Berry retrieved a silver decanter and poured Manhattan South into two long stemmed cocktail glasses. He belched. “How ‘bout take a couple pictures.”
“Of you?”
“Har har har.”
Berry overflowed a glass.
She said, “You're baked,” took her drink, sipped, went to the sofa, sat, crossed her legs, and let her black leather skirt ride high.
Berry took in the view, smiled, sipped some Manhattan South, framed up Peggy in his Pentax viewfinder, and snapped a photo.
Peggy downed her drink, put her glass on the coffee table, stood, took off her leather vest, unbuttoned her blouse, and said, “Why not?”
Berry said, “’Ata girl,” and framed up his viewfinder.
* * *
After several snapshots of Peggy in various stages of stripping, Berry patted her bare bottom, said, “How ‘bout put it right here.” He smacked the desk top. “Come on, put it right up here on that polished mahogany.”
Peggy sat on the desk.
“Tha's a girl. Feels good don't it. Real mahogany.” He probed her with his finger and tongue.
She tucked her knees up to her chin and forced a thin smile.
“Hole it, tha’s it.” He snapped a picture. “One more. Spread them legs.”
Peggy did, he snapped, then she slid off the desk, got her cocktail glass from the coffee table, and walked to the bar. “I need another drink.”
Berry ambled over and began playing with her breasts.
Peggy poured, sipped, lit a cigarette, blew smoke in the air and said, “I been thinking, I want my own prime time show.”
Berry belched.
Peggy smeared some Manhattan South on Berry, led him to the sofa, pushed him back, he sat and she knelt between his legs.
Ten minutes later, Berry stretched out on the floor, Peggy went into his bathroom and called out, “How soon could we start my new prime time show?”
Berry stood, ambled to his window, and surveyed the night lights of Nashville.
CHAPTER 41
Jack’s Time
After being escorted from The Cat, I dropped Sago off at TV12, drove to The Green Onion, immediately went to the pay phone and called Felix The Cat. Angelo answered and I said, “Goddamn it Angelo, let me talk to Gillian.”
He said, “Listen Carr, doan call here no more, know whan I mean … and don't do nutin stupid and come in here again looking for her, for your personal health information forget her, do yourself a favor, like I said, move to Seattle.”
“This is bullshit, Angelo.”
He hung up.
It's like you get your nose up to a display window and inside it looks all pretty and nice. Then somebody breaks the glass and you see it's all a painted picture. Nothing is real.
* * *
Back at my apartment, I mixed a drink, sat on my sofa and called information. No Gillian Phoenix listed.
Then I went to contemplating time and chance. Twenty minutes through time, chance took over.
I drove out to the farm, looked around, nothing. Doors locked, I sat on the front porch swing and smoked a Salem. Then I had an idea, I still had my business card that she had written that first note to me on, I had thrown it in the glove compartment. I got it, looked:
Meet me, 3:30, Printer’s Alley sign.
I looked at it for a good second, grabbed a pen and wrote below her note:
Hi, call me anytime.
I put it in her mailbox.
* * *
Driving back to my apartment, I was thinking, time in a bottle, dust on a plain, Pope Gregory can drop ten days, I can't drop one.
At my apartment, I made a drink and with one eye on the phone, was thinking, real time and reality, size and shape, distance and depth, th
e mind demanding order but there is no order. And don't tell me what reality is because nobody knows what it is. Fifty Ph.D.s dancing on the head of a pin don't know what it is. And nobody knows which fork is which and through it all, time and chance has proved two things to me—real time is fickle and chance is a pimp.
* * *
Sometime later, time merging into one long stream of what you did yesterday seeming like it was a year ago and tomorrow is a dream, sitting on my deck, staring at the parking lot, hot and humid, I kept thinking, time in front of you, waste a year here, spot one there, think you can make that one up, figuring you'll do it tomorrow then tomorrow is yesterday and you didn't get the part.
The muck memories of waste stuck in my throat. Nothing was what I had thought it would be. I needed to vomit. But I couldn't.
* * *
Arguing with Blancpain, time in a bottle, the phone rang. I almost fell off the deck getting to it.
Sago wanted to fill me in on S-Stuff. I told him I didn't want to hear words right now. I was working on other stuff.
I pressed off, on, off, on … after a dozen offs, I thought, nobody to call … I pressed Felix The Cat's lounge number. Angelo answered, I said, “Hey paisano….”
He hung up.
* * *
The sun long ago set, it felt like noon, and I had been trying to get hold of the Vatican, ask them if they could grease through a Gregory for me, told them I wanted to drop a few years, at least one, whatever I had in the bank, promised I'd switch to Catholic, go to confession, mass … make everything up on the second pass.
Ain't no second pass, Bozo. Ain't' no heaven, ain't no hell, just a place in the lovely sun … for you and for me. Ain't so bad, I'm your buddy.
A little after I don’t know, I had to get out. I drove to The Green Onion and I swear I saw Jay Speaker at the bar, drinking a Mai Tai, smiling like he had finally found that place.