9:41

by Iannuzzi, John Nicholas;

  The crowd hushed.

  Nero screamed at the guards to seize the boy, and looking triumphantly over the heads of the entire crowd, stood on the railing of the balcony and shouted with his head thrown high. “My Divinity is greater than the sun. I am a god and have defeated your puny attempt to overcome me. Disperse, Scum!”

  The crowd, screaming in panic, began to evacuate the square, stampeding, running.

  Domitius was stranded, held by the guards. He struggled like a madman as Nero came storming out of the front entrance of the palace. Insane with power, he screamed: “Fool, fool of a boy, to try and overcome the divine Nero”. He took up a rock and with a glistening, maniacal look in his eyes, brought it down with terrific force on Domitius’s head.

  In the ever increasing yellow-orange glow from the west one could see Nero lifting, time after time, a rock, and bringing it to rest on the slumped form. His eyes glistened and became more fearful in the orange glow, and the rock came down on the small metal tube that lay on the ground next to Domitius. A tinkle of broken glass was heard through the flame-colored courtyard. A high-pitched screaming laugh lifted high and loud, echoing through the palace, up to the orange heavens. “Sun god, ha, ha, ha …”

  The sun filtered through the trees with a fiery boldness as Reggie Moore made his way home, as he did each evening after work, up Arrow Street, across Kensington Square, to the small shed that housed the entrance to the Underground. Before descending, to the train, Reggie stopped at the store of a P. Jackson. He went in past the counters of tools and hardware and light bulbs, and up to the man who looked to be the proprietor.

  “Good evening to you, sir”, said the man, “and what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to purchase a flashlight if I might”, said Reggie. “I seem to have misplaced my other one this morning”.

  “Really, sir, well perhaps Professor Terrence Young, from Oxford found it for you, eh? Ha, ha, ha …”

  “I say, what the devil are you talking about, and who is this Terr … what did you say his name was?”

  “Terrence Young, sir. I thought you might have heard. He’s that archeology chap from Oxford that was written up in the paper this morning. Seems he was on a safari, no, an expedition, yes, that’s what they calls it. Well, anyway, he’s on this expedition in Italy to uncover some of the ancient ruins, and what’s he find in the ruins of an ancient palace dating back to the first century, somewhere around 64 A.D., … a crushed piece of metal that turns out to be a flashlight. And they can’t understand how it got there. Seems it was made by a manufacturer in Sussex, and yet, under tests, they find it’s been laying under the ruins for 2000 years almost. So maybe Professor Terrence Young found your flashlight eh? Ha … ha … ha. That’ll be six shillings sir. Ha … ha”.

  “By Jove, a flashlight, you say. How the devil did they find a flashlight in the ruins dating back to somewhere around Nero’s time, I believe? Oh, here you are, six shillings. Thank you. What paper did you say that was in. I’d like to read about it”.

  WEEP SOFTLY AND SMILE

  The street lights of the little island gleamed and sparkled across the water that separated it from the mainland, like milkwhite pearls on a piece of black velvet. The engine of the car purred with mechanical perfection as the car sped along, across the smooth highway, toward the beach. Lyn was sitting in the passenger seat of the bright red Jaguar, completely thrilled by the thought of riding in Joe Waters’ car; his new foreign sports car, too! Joe Waters, the rising new star in popular singing, and Lyn was with him, driving to the beach for a romantic midnight swim.

  The car veered off the highway and onto Frederick Avenue, past the parked planes at the airfield, on toward the darkened bridge, lit by road lights and a few blinking red lights at the summit of the expanse. Joe paid the toll and the metal strips of the bridge made a crying sound as the tires passed over them.

  Lyn was completely captivated by the entire view. She was looking out of the side window of the car at the sights as seen from a sports car, and yet all the time she could see Joe’s reflection in the window. This reflected countenance thrilled her more than all the sights that could be seen from all the sports cars in the world. Joe, a neighborhood boy, making a big name for himself, and he was taking her to the beach for a late night swim. This was about the most thrilling thing that had happened to her in all of her nineteen years. Every girl in the neighborhood would leap at the chance just to be near Joe Waters, the singer.

  Joe had always been around the neighborhood, always singing, and bothering people. That’s the right word—bothering.

  But now came a transformation for him. Now he was making a name for himself in the entertainment field. Now he was a celebrity. His singing was no longer bothersome, but rather pleasing. He was in show business. His little world had expanded to embrace the world of the outside, the world that is open to so few from the neighborhood. Joe was a big man, now. His world extended past the corner hangout, past the street lights, past all the people in the neighborhood, past all those who secretly wished to be more than one of the neighbors; they envied him silently and paid homage to him verbally. He was the most talked about and most boasted about person in the neighborhood.

  This transition from local performer to national success was not without its effect upon Joe, who now was displaying a hitherto concealed knowledge of famous people and of facts having to do with the theater. The transition had an effect not only on his knowledge of things but even on his personality. This underwent a remarkable change, for not only was he not an insecure, unsure kid anymore, but now he fashioned himself on his expert appearance and opinion, his judgment and savoir faire.

  An instance of this newly acquired knowledge and opinion was when he walked into Sam’s soda store on the corner one evening. For years this had been his hangout. The place where he would spend the night, talking to the boys. Leaning against the wall with one leg bent at the knee, foot pressed against the wall, cigarette dangling his thin lips, he would discuss the girls in the neighborhood, or the Dodgers, or the horse races, but now, ah, now this was Joe Waters, the rage of the popular singers, the boy who sold almost a million records with his recording of “I’ll Never Let You Know”.

  He walked into the store in his tapered slacks, no more peg—that was so unsharp—“taper, taper, man, that’s the only way to wear them. Everybody in the ‘biz’ wears them this way. You know man, like, get hip”. Over these conservative pants he wore a quiet shirt with button-down collar. On his feet were thin, Italian styled slip-on shoes.

  The commotion, and confusion of the syrup sweet air hushed to a murmured undertone anytime Joe made an appearance—a very rare appearance as a matter of fact. He was too busy to spend much time around the neighborhood these days. He indicated he would sit at the table where his old acquaintances were sitting; a space was quickly made for him; a chair hoisted through the air, and he was seated, to the satisfaction of all the beholding eyes, to his own satisfaction, for everyone was stealing glances at so august a personage, and to the satisfaction of the people he was sitting with, for now they basked in the effulgent light of his illustriousness. After many minutes of awareness, the consciousness of his presence dimmed, and things began to take a more ordinary course. The conversation at his table started to mull over the picture at the Globe, “Gibraltar Affair”.

  “Yeah, let’s go see that, it supposed to be pretty good”, said Tommy.

  “Naw, whadd-a-ya-kiddin, it’s a real lemon. The guy kisses the broad goodbye and sails away, big deal, what do I need to go to the movies to see that. I’ll save my money and stay here”, said Pete.

  Eddie turned to Joe and said, “you seen that pitcha, didn’t you Joey? How was it, any good?”

  “I caught that flic last week with my agent and I thought it was poor. The acting was unconvincing and the story had a lot of loose ends. On the whole I didn’t think it was very good”, said Joe in a serious, knowing way. All of this, however, was said in a measured cop
ied way. Not only was the enunciation copied, so was the criticism. What did Joe know about acting or stories, any more than he had six months ago, before he was a singing rage; but now he was accepted as an expert on all things theater, and everyone was impressed by his erudite comments. Joe had been impressed too, when he heard the same words he just mouthed, coming from Sonny Jones, the comic, whom he’d met at his agent’s office. Sonny, in turn, may have heard them from someone else.

  Tommy, still defending his own opinion maintained that his brother had seen the picture and it was pretty good. Tommy was sitting at the adjacent right side of Joe, at which point Joe swung his head slowly toward the right, tilting it slightly downward, his eyes closed. His head turned past Tommy’s position and stopped, a distressed smirk was on his mouth. This was intended to completely dismiss Tommy’s idea as ridiculous. Joe opened his eyes, looked at Tommy from the left corner of his eyes and with an uplifted eyebrow and slightly nodding head, said, “Are you trying to tell me now, what a good picture is? I saw it. But you guys go, you’ll probably like it”.

  Tommy was cast down. He looked sheepishly to Joe and said, “I don’t want to argue with you, Joe, but my brother liked it. Maybe I’m wrong. Well, what else is there to see, hunh?”

  It was forgotten; Joe was right as he turned smugly back toward the center of the group. Wasn’t he in on the know?

  The darkened road that stretched before the speeding Jaguar was now lit by the lights indicating the guards’ gate at the entrance to the private beach. Joe slowed down and flashed a membership card. The guard waved him to enter.

  “This is a fancy private place, but a friend of my agent’s gave me his pass. Pretty cool, hanh?”

  “Yes, I’ve never been here before. What’s it called?”, asked Lyn.

  “Point Sands”.

  Lyn sat contentedly viewing the darkened bungalows they passed on their way to the beach. She was still engrossed in the wonderful feeling that overcame her because she was with Joe. She had always liked Joe. He had always been a friend to her, and she to him, even when all others had held him with contempt because he made no money, but only sang; she always cherished his friendship.

  Lyn was not an exceptionally beautiful girl, as a matter of fact, the guys in the neighborhood would be moved to call her a nothing, as would Joe, but tonight he felt like going to the beach, and no one else was about, so he asked Lyn. Besides, she probably would go down easier than the other girls because she was a nothing. How could she resist me, he thought to himself. He wasn’t in the mood to have to work his points. He wanted someone, not an argument, … and Lyn, well, Lyn would do just fine. He pulled the sun visor down, and fixed his hair with the aid of the mirror attached to the underside.

  “Watch the car, Joe”, screamed Lyn.

  “Relax baby”, he said as he jerked the car back into its proper lane, “nothing to worry about. I’ve got everything under control”. He pushed the mirror back up and slid his arm over Lyn’s shoulder, pulling her gently yet firmly closer to himself. She slid next to him eagerly. She was thinking how wonderful it would be if Joe’s interest in her were sincere. She thought she loved him; at any rate, she liked him an awful lot.

  The car crunched to a stop on the graveled driveway. Joe turned off the engine, cut the lights, and turned to Lyn.

  “Shall we get going?”, he asked.

  “Mmmhmmm”.

  They got out and made their way down the beach, over the sand still warm from the heat of the day. The moon in the sky was full, throwing a silvered effect over the small drifting clouds near it. A thin V of light cut its way to the shore over the rippling water.

  How romantic, thought Lyn.

  Too much friggin’ light, thought Joe, somebody’s liable to come along and see us.

  They reached the shore, and Joe spread the blanket so they could sit on it.

  Square broad, Joe thought angrily, as Lyn slid her skirt down, revealing the bathing suit she was wearing underneath. Joe started to take his clothes off. Makes me wear a bathing suit, he thought. Oh well, it just takes more time this way.

  “Well, let’s get to the water”, Joe said as he sprinted away. Lyn followed as quickly as she could.

  The surging little slick of water on the beach gave evidence of the coldness of the water. Joe was immersed to his calves in the billowy foam of a wave. “Come on in baby, the water’s really fine”.

  “It’s cold, Joe”.

  “Come on chicken, it’s just right”, he said as he took her hand in his and ran headlong into the surging surf. The cold water ran over their bodies and they glided through a wave.

  “Phagh, phagh”, Joe blew the water streaming from his head out of his mouth. “Man this is really cool, in more ways than one, isn’t it, baby?” said Joe.

  “It’s beautiful. I thought it would be much colder than this. I guess it’s just the getting in that takes time”.

  “Yeah, you’re right”, said Joe with a snickering smile on his face. Lyn got his meaning and also smiled, but in a more reserved and a little embarrassed way.

  Joe was right there, all right. Always right at the head of the class when it came to smart sayings or allusions to sex.

  A huge wave came stealing in over the darkened water, and broke over the heads of the couple. They were both swept up into the swirling, pounding tiderace; they were thrown down, and over, and carried along with the water toward the shore. The wave spent itself and as they slowed down, Joe felt his legs bump against something. He stopped flowing. His head came out of the water, and he found himself sprawled across a gasping Lyn. “Ha, ha, ha, what a wave”, he called out cheerily, although actually frightened.

  “Huh, huh”, said Lyn, trying to catch her breath. “I thought I was going to drown”.

  “Come on baby, that little wave didn’t scare you did it?” He slipped his arm around her waist and bent toward her for a kiss. She moved not, and as he came closer her arms slipped around him, and they allowed themselves to settle on the moist, runny sand. It was a long kiss, a long passionate kiss, wherein Joe’s every effort and movement was calculated to arouse.

  “Oh, Joe, I’ve wanted to be kissed by you for so long”, she said when they parted.

  “Well, you finally got your big break, eh baby, how was it?”

  “Oh, stop kidding around, Joe”.

  “I’m not kidding baby. I’m as serious as I’ve ever been in my life”, he said as he leaned toward her for another kiss with his whole body. He held her tightly, his body pressed against hers. “Baby, you’re driving me crazy”, whispered Joe. “I’ve never had anybody who could kiss like this”. He pressed himself on top of her and kissed her again. Pretty smooth talking, Joey boy, he thought to himself.

  Joe, Joe, if only you meant it, thought Lyn. “Joe, let’s go up to the blanket. It’s getting cold here on the sand”.

  “Baby, … I’ll keep you warm”.

  “I know, Joe, you’re keeping me a little too warm already”.

  “Ok, let’s go up to the blanket”, he said, you rotten little bitch, just when I started to get somewhere, he thought to himself.

  Lyn got a towel from the blanket and started to dry herself.

  “Here, let me help you baby”, said Joe. He took the towel and started rubbing her back. The towel began to rove over places that couldn’t be dried, not through the bathing suit anyway.

  “Why not take your suit off so I can dry you all over, baby?”

  “No, Joe, I don’t want anything like that tonight. Please don’t start”.

  “Why? What’s the matter with it baby? It’s the most natural thing in the world”.

  “We’re not married Joe, that’s what’s wrong with it”.

  “But, baby, you don’t have to be married to enjoy life”. As he said this he was trying to kiss her neck and shoulders.

  Lyn sat up so that she could talk without arousing interruptions. She wanted Joe, sure she did, but not like this. “It’s just not right, Joe. It’s got to
mean something, we’re not animals, and besides, just to help you understand it, I don’t want to take a chance on having a baby”.

  “Don’t worry about a baby, baby. Ol’ Joe’ll take care of everything. You know I’m not a square”.

  “No, Joe, that’s all. I think we’d better go”.

  “Not just yet baby, the night is still so young. It’s only one-thirty. What’s the hurry?”

  “No, hurry, Joe, I just want to go home”.

  “Sure baby, sure, I only want to please you. I hope you don’t get angry, or the wrong impression about me. It’s just that you drive me crazy”.

  “It’s okay. Just let’s go home. You go ahead up to the car, I’m going behind this dune to change”.

  “Okay, I’ll change on the way up to the car”.

  Lyn went behind the dune and Joe started up toward the car.

  Of all the rotten breaks, he thought as he walked. I got to get stuck with a goody goody. I thought she’d outgrow that shit. Balls.

  Joe finished changing as Lyn came up to the car.

  “All set?”, asked Joe.

  “Yeah, let’s go”, said Lyn.

  The car churned up the gravel as they sped away from the beach. They both sat in the speeding car without speaking, each to his or her own thoughts. Lyn on the one hand was mixed up. She was crazy about Joe, but she couldn’t give herself to him, not just like that. He didn’t love her, perhaps he didn’t even like her. No, she just couldn’t do it. Joe on the other hand was annoyed, affronted, indignant. Man, I’ve had better chicks than this for laughs, and she gives me a hard time. So, she’s a square.

  The car pulled up in front of Lyn’s house with a slight chirp of the wheels stopping.

  “Well baby”, he said. “I won’t be around for a few days, but I’ll give you a ring when I get back. I’m looking around in the city for a nice pad”.

  “A what?”

  “A pad, you know, an apartment. Maybe I’ll give you a ring Thursday, okay?”