Danielle huffed.
“God, I can’t believe you sometimes.” Danielle took her phone out of her purse and examined the call log. “I wonder why she hasn’t called me then.”
“I can explain that, too,” Max answered, signing the redhead’s book and then signaling for the next customer to come forward.
“Oh God,” Danielle muttered. She steeled herself. “Explain it how, exactly?”
“Well, your mother went to go take a shower shortly before I left the house.”
“And…”
“And she left that new cell phone you got for her on the kitchen table and I reprogrammed it. If she’s tried calling you today I’m afraid the phone has been ringing someplace else.”
Danielle silently counted to ten before asking, “Where?”
“The Garber School for the Mentally Challenged.”
Katie couldn’t help laughing, though she tried to control it. Holding her hands up she made a helpless gesture to Danielle.
“Sorry, sweetie, but you have to admit…”
Glaring daggers at her husband Danielle called her mother to tell her to get out of Clerkenwell.
***
“Okay,” Danielle said snapping her phone shut, “Mom says they’ll get a cab and try to find this place.” She gave Max another icy look but he could tell she wasn’t really upset. Beside, under the circumstances, with her relatives descending on Trinity Manor as if it were a motel she knew she had to cut him some slack if he acted out a bit.
“Katie, why don’t you and I go next door and get some coffee while we wait,” she suggested. She gave Max a peck on the cheek and said, “Don’t flirt too much, sweetie. We’ll be back in a bit.”
“Right, right. I’ll see you a bit,” Max said but he was only half-listening to her. A few moments ago he had noticed that Nigel, one of his bodyguards, had left his post near the signing table and had sidled over to Biographies. He was pretending to thumb through the life story of Frank Thornton, trying to appear just like another customer, but Max noticed that every few seconds Nigel’s eyes would look up from the book toward the line of waiting fans. As he signed someone named Penelope’s book Max examined the line himself and almost instantly saw what was troubling Nigel. He further noted that Benny and Nails had also taken up new positions: Benny near Short Stories and Nails over by Erotica. All three of them were within striking distance of the person in line whose presence had called for this high-alert status.
It was a man. That in itself wasn’t very unusual, although those of the male gender were indeed disproportionately outnumbered by women; but this man was taking great pains to hide his face. He had the brim of his hat pulled down very low and he seemed to have an odd fascination with his shoestrings, never looking up but only shuffling forward a little bit as the line progressed. As Danielle and Katie walked past him he even turned his face away while keeping it down and Max breathed a sigh of relief that the fellow had not accosted them and that they were safely on their way next door to Bar Italia.
Nails managed to catch Max’s eyes and the novelist gave him a subtle nod to indicate that he was aware of the threat before motioning the bodyguard over.
“Let Nigel and Benny handle this,” Max whispered in Nails’s ear. “Go next door and keep an eye on Danielle and Katie but don’t let them see you; I don’t want to worry them needlessly.”
“Got it, guv.” And Nails hustled out of the store.
Primarily because of The Remarkable Reign of Pope Anne I Max had enemies, mostly Catholics, ultra-conservative Christians and homophobes who objected to Max’s views on the Church, organized religion and his acceptance of gays and gay rights. Indeed, in virtually all of his books, even those whose main themes had nothing to do with religion or whose main characters weren’t gay, he ruthlessly attacked the religious right and all bigots, sparing no venom on the hypocrisies and downright close-mindedness of such people, particularly those who claim to live their lives by Christ. As such he in turn was spared no venom from those he attacked, some even going so far as to make death threats. Thus, it had long been de rigueur now for Max to have protection with him by hiring bodyguards from the same private security firm which guarded his house when he made appearances such as this.
There were about six people in line ahead of the man in the hat and as that number dwindled and the line moved forward Nigel and Benny kept pace; at any moment either of them could simply reach out and grab the fellow. Finally, when the last person who was ahead of the man came up to have her book signed Nigel and Benny took up new positions: Nigel tossed his Thornton biography onto the clearance table and he and Benny stood like sentinels before the signing table. Max felt his heart rate increase as he scribbled the d in “Bland” and thanked the woman for coming. He then very quickly opened another copy and scrawled his name in it.
“May I help you, sir?” Benny asked the suspicious fellow as the latter stepped up.
“Um…I would like to see Max, please,” the guy said with evident nervousness.
“I’m afraid he’s unavailable for discussion, sir.”
Nigel took the copy of Pope Anne which Max had just hastily signed.
“Here’s an autographed copy of the book,” Nigel stated. “Now would you please move along, sir?”
“No, you don’t understand! I know him! And I need to—“
“Would you please move along now, sir?” Nigel repeated with just a touch more menace.
“Look, I know people always say that they know him but I really do know him! I need to—”
“Sir! Move along now.”
But something had caught Max’s attention. It was the man’s voice; he could’ve sworn he knew that voice but he had stand up in order to be able to look between the towering bulks of Nigel and Benny to see the guy they were preventing from getting too close to him.
No longer hiding his face the man was pleading with the bodyguards to let him speak to Max just for a moment. His eyes were imploring and even though it was warm inside the store it wasn’t warm enough to justify how much he was sweating. As soon as Max got a look at the guy his mouth dropped open and he muttered, “Jesus-fucking-Christ!”
It was Harold Edwards, Danielle’s father.
***
“Guys, guys,” Max said, “it’s alright.”
Benny turned to his boss.
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I really do know him; let him by. Thanks for the good work, though.”
Tracy came over after watching this scene somewhat anxiously. She asked if everything was okay.
“It’s fine, Tracy,” Max replied. “Listen, tell everyone I’m taking a three minute break.” And before she could respond he took hold of Harold’s arm, guided him around the signing table and led him into the back stockroom.
“Harold, what the fuck? What the hell are you doing here?”
Harold leaned against a stack of boxes. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. Normally the professor was a fairly good-looking guy with only enough gray to make him look distinguished and intelligent brown eyes; he’d always reminded Max of Robert Culp. Now, however, he simply seemed drained and sallow.
“I arrived in London last night,” Harold said. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to go to your house to try to speak to you but then I got wind of this book signing and figured I’d have better luck here. Max, I want to see Danielle and I want to see my wife. I need your help.”
“Are you crazy? You’re a pariah to them, man. Danielle was just here…”
“I know, I saw her.”
“…and your wife is on her way along with your other daughter.”
“Sloane is here? She didn’t tell me she was coming here.”
“Yeah, well, it’s like a family reunion, Harold; a sick and twisted family reunion. God likes to do this to me every now and then. But you can’t speak to me here, man. If Danielle catches you when she gets back even Nigel and Benny won’t be able to stop her
from killing you.” Max put both his hands on Harold’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “I’m not joking, man, she will kill you.”
“Max, please.”
“No, shut up and listen to me because we don’t have much time. If you wanna talk to me, fine, we’ll talk but we’ll do it someplace where you won’t be skinned alive in front of my fans. Now, where are you staying?”
“The Holiday Inn,” Harold told him.
“Which one, for Christ’s sake, there are, like, eleven.”
“Um…the one at, uh, Oxford Circus.”
“Oxford Circus, fine.” Max took a peek out of the stock room; no sign of Danielle. “Go back to your hotel and wait for me; I’ll head straight over once I’m done here.”
Harold sighed and looked beseechingly at his quasi son-in-law.
“Do you think you could help me to get them to speak to me?” he asked.
“Jesus, Harold, I dunno.” Max saw no reason to lie. “I just don’t know, man. Maybe. Right now the only thing I can help you do, man to man, is to keep you from getting hammered in the testicles with a size six Manolo boot.” He opened the door leading to the alley. “Get back to the hotel and wait for me,” he ordered. “And whatever you do don’t stop for coffee next door.”
Chapter 29
By ten o’clock, only an hour past Truman’s closing time, it was all over. The early ending was achieved by one simple fact: after shooing Harold away Max chatted up his fans less than normal. He was polite to them but no longer did he engage them in banter. He’d say hello, ask their names, scribble his signature and then signal for the next one to step forward.
“Are you okay?” Danielle asked at one point, noticing this.
“Fine,” Max said. “Just fine. I feel a headache coming on, is all and I wouldn’t mind finishing up early.”
Danielle and her entourage stayed until nine-thirty. As she was preparing to leave she asked Max what time he thought he’d be getting home. He told her that after the signing he was going to take Benny, Nails and Nigel out for pints but that he’d try to reach the mansion no later than one or two.
“What about your headache?”
“Oh, that. Um…it’s getting better; trust me, I’m fine.”
Danielle pouted a bit. “I was hoping we could have a bit of fun before I fell asleep.”
“Right, well, you know, I really feel I owe the boys something for keeping an eye on everything and making sure no harm came to me. I promise, tomorrow night I’m all yours.”
But when the signing ended and the grateful Truman sisters had seen him out of the store Max pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and gave each of his bodyguards a hundred quid note, telling them it was a tip for doing such a good job. He then bid them each goodnight.
Driving toward Oxford Circus a few minutes later Max called the Holiday Inn, got patched through to Harold and told the professor to meet him in the hotel’s bar which, when Max arrived, was fairly busy with a clientele of mostly Japanese and Indian business travelers. He saw that Harold had secured a table and was already finishing up what looked like a Scotch on the rocks.
“Good to see you, Max,” Harold said as the writer sat down.
“Same here, although I can’t say it was a good idea for you to come to England.” A waitress materialized; Max ordered a gin and tonic along with another Scotch for Harold. “You’da been better off trying to wear Danielle down with phone calls.”
“How much do you know about what went on?” Harold asked.
“Everything, man; so does Katie.”
“And what do you think?”
“That you were foolish, naturally. Look, a little fling I can understand but a whole goddamn second family? Jesus, Harold, what were you thinking?”
Max paused when the waitress returned with the drinks.
“I know, I know,” Harold mumbled.
“I’ll tell you this, though,” Max went on, “you’re a more patient man than I am. How the hell you could manage to be involved with two women simultaneously I’ll never know. I’ve always had a hard enough time staying sane with one at a time.”
This elicited a sigh from the professor who then said, “I was weak, Max. It’s an old story, I know, but it’s the truth. I was young and I was weak.” He looked up at his companion. “You’ve never cheated on Danielle?”
“Like I’d tell you. But no, I haven’t. I’ve had plenty of opportunities but I just don’t need the hassle.”
“Then you’re a better man than I am, Max.”
“No, just a different man.”
Harold took a healthy swig of his new Scotch.
“Max, the way I see it, it happened. It happened and nothing we say or do will change that fact.”
“True.”
“I regret it, I do, but I can’t change it. What I can do is change the future by trying to get my daughter back. Max, the past couple of months have been agony. You’re not a parent so you can’t possibly know what it’s like to believe that you’ve lost your child’s love because of something so, so stupid. God, I wish I could make her understand that I was still such a young man when I first met Sloane’s mother. I need her to give me a chance to explain and to show her that nothing should change between her and I. That’s why I need your help.”
Max was shaking his head while looking down at his drink and stirring it slowly.
“I dunno, Harold.”
“She worships you, Max! There must be some way you can convince her to see me, to speak to me.”
“Worship only goes so far, and in this particular matter I think you overestimate my influence. Danielle is livid, Harold, livid; besides, this is the kind of thing she’s gonna allow me to meddle in only so much. Hell, I’m taking a huge risk just talking to you! And how do you propose I go about it, huh? You know how hard-headed she is; if this scheme of yours isn’t done right then you may as well make room for me in that doghouse.”
“Well, you can point out that despite what I did she still had a pretty terrific childhood.”
“Jesus, Harold, the pretty terrific childhood just makes it worse. It would’ve been better if she’d had a mostly lousy childhood, then she could’ve said to herself ‘Oh, Dad has a second family? That figures. Typical Dad, always the bastard.’ What you’ve done is sullied the memory of her childhood. Now she just thinks it was all a pack of lies.”
The other man slumped back in his chair; he looked tired, worried and older than he was. Under normal circumstances, Max considered, Harold might have garnered interested looks from some of the women in the establishment who had an appreciation for distinguished older gentlemen. But now Harold may as well have been invisible.
Finally Harold asked, “Do you think I’d have better luck if I convinced Katie to talk to her?”
Max’s jaw dropped.
“Jesus Christ!” the writer said with incredulity. “You know, for a professor you’re not very bright. You wanna try to convince a lesbian to see your side of the story? Are you insane? Look, Katie is Danielle’s Clemenza, okay? She’s not gonna let you get anywhere near your daughter.” He drank some of his gin and tonic; for a Holiday Inn bar it wasn’t bad. “No, sadly, your only hope lies with me,” he continued, “but I’m telling you, it’s a long shot.”
“But Sloane talks to me, dammit! Why can’t Danielle?”
“Harold, I’m no psychologist,” Max said, looking the older man right in the eye, “but the fact that Sloane talks to you should only serve to show you how hard up that woman is for a stable man in her life. Danielle has a stable man in her life, me. And she also has a father figure, me again, a guy who’s a dozen years older than her. You became expendable the moment her and I met, almost. What you needed to do was to be sure nothing happened to make her wanna throw you away.”
Max gave Harold a few moments to mull this over and then said, “I promise I’ll try, Professor, but if I were you I’d prepare for disappointment. And I’ll tell you this: I may be able to get her to talk to
you but I have no influence whatsoever when it comes to getting her to forgive you, got it?”
Harold nodded glumly.
“How long are you in town for?” Max inquired.
Smiling ruefully Harold said, “Not long. I took a short leave of absence from the university but the truth is I can’t afford to be away too long. The divorce settlement was decidedly not in my favor.” He took a sip of Scotch. “Anyway, now that we’re on the topic, what about Arlene?”
“What about her?”
“I love that woman, Max. I never wanted to sign those divorce papers but my lawyer thought I’d be stupid not to.”
“Sure. If your divorce had gone to trial you’da been massacred, what with the whole second family thing.”
“I know she’s been staying at your house,” Harold went on. “Do you think you can get me an audience with her, too?”
Max decided to give the bad news.
“Maybe. She might be able to squeeze you in before her wedding.”
Harold’s mouth dropped open as the color drained from his face. If it is possible to be seated but still stagger he accomplished it. It took him several moments before he could formulate words.
“She’s getting married?”
Max nodded.
“To who?”
“Nita.”
“Nita?” Harold frowned. “What kind of man’s name is that? What is it, Egyptian? Russian, maybe?”
“It’s lesbian,” Max replied.
“I don’t follow.”
“Arlene is marrying a woman. According to my sources your ex-wife is gay.”
“But…but that’s impossible!”
“That was my reaction at first.” Max signaled for another round. “With respect, your ex-wife is a bit of a twit, Harold, and I was certain this whole ‘I’m a lesbian’ thing of hers was just her way of reacting to what you did to her. However, apparently, there’s some truth to it.”
“But Arlene and I used to have sex! Regularly!”
“Yeah, well, according to my sources again it was all a means to an end, Professor; namely, a kid, a nice house and someone to pay the bills. Her vagina was a martyr to the American dream.”
Two for One-Relatively Speaking (The Two for One series) Page 27