Go Naked In The World

by Chamales, Tom T. ;

  “That was none of our affair. I talked to Alex already. He didn’t have anything like that in mind. Somebody beat us to him, that’s all. Alex would never do anything like that.”

  “I don’t like this,” George Stratos had said. “I don’t like it one goddamn bit.”

  “I tell you this was none of our business,” Charlie said.

  “I don’t think Alex would go that far myself,” Old Pete said to George, the younger.

  “I tell you,” Charlie said, wiping his glasses. Then with the same old crumpled handkerchief wiped his pock-marked face, “I tell you that was none of our business. Now don’t worry about it.”

  “I don’t think Alex would do anything like that,” Old Pete repeated.

  “Well, he wouldn’t,” Charlie said. “I talked to him and he said we didn’t have a thing to do with it. Not to worry. Somebody put it on Raker for us. We were lucky. Now if we can just let the public know the facts. That it was the union people that hurt the kid.”

  “Maybe we ough to hire us a public relations man. To go over there and protect our interest. I don’t like the idea of having our business hurt because some guy goes crazy and starts blowing up things,” Old Pete said. “We worked too hard to build up this business to have some tough guys step in and hurt our business—Jesus, I thought this was a respectable business.”

  “A public relations guy might be a good idea,” Charlie said. “We ought to talk to the lawyer about that when he gets here.”

  “Yeah,” Old Pete said. “Maybe we ought to send George down there for a couple of days. So it don’t look like we were avoiding it—and we ought to sue that goddamn newspaper for hurting our reputation. I’d go down there myself, but Nick’s home. I can’t leave the minute my kid comes home.”

  “Go to—” George started.

  “That might be a good idea to have George go over,” Charlie, the Elder, said. “I can’t get away. We talk to the lawyer. Nick’s home, eh?”

  “Yesterday,” Old Pete said. “He’s coming down Monday. I’d have brought him today. But you know. He wants to visit with his mother. He’s grown up, that kid.”

  “I like that kid,” George, the younger, said.

  “You’re his favorite,” Old Pete said to George.

  “Maybe we all have lunch,” Charlie said, wiping his eyes again.

  “We wait for the lawyer now, okay Pete?” Charlie said. “We meet back here in the conference room when the lawyer comes in.”

  “Okay,” Old Pete said. “I think we oughta sue that sonofabitching newspaper though,” Old Pete said. “We’re liable to take a hell of a beating in our business down there. And we worked too hard building up this business to have a bunch of hoods hurt it.”

  And he had turned and left. Then Pete had gone into his office and on his private phone had called Lawrence Green, the banker.

  “Lawrence,” Old Pete had said, “you see the paper?”

  “What’s it all about?” Green spoke calmly.

  “I wish like hell I knew. Charlie says that it’s none of our affair. The union did it. That Raker had some trouble inside the union. But I don’t like it,” Old Pete said. “I worked too hard, Lawrence, to have a bunch of bums ruin my reputation. My business. I don’t like it,” Old Pete said indignantly. “That Charlie makes me afraid sometimes. I don’t think he had anything to do with it. I pray to God he didn’t. But I don’t like the explanation I got so far. I think we ought to have lunch next week.”

  “All right, Pete.”

  “Nick’s home, Lawrence. My son’s home,” Old Pete said suddenly, dramatically.

  “Wonderful, Pete. Can you bring Nick?”

  “I bring them both, maybe. Nick and Pierro. Then maybe after lunch we can take a little walk and have a talk. I’ll know some more by then. God, Lawrence, this has upset me. Innocent people hurt. And they’re trying to make it look like we, Interstate, are behind it. It’s terrible, Lawrence,” he said. “Terrible.”

  “Take it easy, Pete. If you didn’t have anything to do with it, and I’m sure you didn’t, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Well, it makes me feel terrible, I tell you. I’m not as young as I use to be. And my son, God I wouldn’t want him to think—you know how I love that kid, Lawrence.”

  Then after a few more words Old Pete had hung up. Then after that he had called home and talked to Mary and Nick, and now he was sitting behind the desk with that satisfied smile on his face. He took out a ten cent cigar and began to unpeel the wrapper. Then suddenly he put the cigar down and picked up the interoffice phone and called Charlie Stratos.

  “After we have the meeting with the lawyer,” Old Pete said, “I’d like to have a little talk with you and George. All right?”

  “Sure,” Charlie said. “About anything in particular?”

  “About Nick,” Old Pete said. “You know how we talked about bringing Nick into the business. He needs a little rest first. But he ought to be ready to go to work soon. He went through hell over there, Charlie. Hell, I tell you. He looks ten years older than he ought to look, I tell you. It’s terrible what those kids went through.”

  “Sure, Pete. You know how I like that boy.”

  “Well, I think we oughta have a little talk. You know? About where we’re going to put him and all. I want you fellows to be satisfied, you know that. And I don’t want no favors because he’s my son. But he’s a stockholder, too. And he’ll take a real interest in the business, being a stockholder and all. Green thinks it’s wonderful we’re taking Nick in. He suggested maybe we put him in bookkeeping. To watch the figures. You know, Charlie, we haven’t got anybody of our own, anyone we can really trust in bookkeeping. Green said that would give him a good basis for the financial end,” Old Pete said. “In fact, we’re having lunch with Green next week,” Old Pete said. “Green likes the kid almost like a father, Charlie. He’s really crazy about that kid.”

  He hung up the interoffice phone, picked up his private phone and called Lou Duck.

  He told Lou that Nick was home, and discussed the article in the morning paper and told Lou there was nothing to it. Then asked Lou if maybe he wouldn’t like to go out and see the Cubs with him that afternoon, which Lou not only agreed to do, but which firmly convinced the restaurateur that Interstate and Old Pete didn’t have anything to do with the Peru business, as Lou Duck had so firmly believed when he had read the morning paper.

  Of course this was the main reason for Old Pete’s inviting Lou to the game. No one would ever expect Old Pete to be at the game the very day that something like this had come up if he did have something to do with it. And every Greek in Chicago, at least important Greek, and every important Chicago newspaperman came into Lou’s place some time during the week for lunch or dinner or a drink. Naturally, Pete knew, this Peru business would be much the topic of conversation during the next week. And more than likely everybody would be inclined to snicker and say Sure, Old Pete and the Stratos boys did it. But Lou Duck, Pete analyzed, being braggart that he was, gossip that he was, would like nothing better than to appear to be in the real know about the Peru business. And Old Pete could hear Lou saying, ‘You’re all crazy. Why Old Pete called me that morning, calm as a baby lamb, and we went out to see the Cubs and had some laughs. Pete didn’t have anything to do with it. And if he did, I’d be the first to know about it. Everybody knows how close me and Pete are.’

  Pete, his elbows on the arms of his chair, sat there and half-laughed to himself, then suddenly he began to think of last night at the table and Marci—Marci—and then it struck him.

  Marci’s grandfather had been one of the biggest men in Chicago in the days when Old Pete first started The Mill. In fact, if Pete remembered correctly, his engineering firm was still intact, still big. He wondered if the family still held any of the stock. She might make a hell of a wife for Pierro. With the family connections in the engineering and architectural fields, and Pierro’s natural ability, Pierro could go a long way being marrie
d to her. Too, he would settle down. Which was what he really needed—to get married and settle down. Instead of acting like a crazy goddamn artist. Running off to that place in Michigan. Going to Europe. Designing cities. Who the hell did he think he was. He hadn’t designed a bathroom for any pay. And he wants to design cities. What the hell kind of family I got. Why the hell don’t they come down to earth, he wondered. Designing cities. Jesus—he was forced to laugh. What do these kids think the world is made of these days—Suckers? Cities—and he ain’t even designed a bathroom.

  He picked up a telephone and called Lawrence Stokes. Stokes was Lawrence Green’s credit man at the bank.

  “Larry,” he said, “I need a piece of information on some people. Remember the Prestons. The engineering family.”

  “Certainly, Pete. But the old man’s dead.”

  “Yeah, but his son and granddaughter live out in Evanston. Can you get me a run-down on their net worth? Their income? What kind of holdings they got? It’s a personal matter for a friend.”

  “It’ll take a while, Pete.”

  “How long?”

  “Depends. Maybe they’ve got some of it covered some way. I should be able to get it within a couple of weeks “

  “I’d appreciate that,” Old Pete said. “By the way, you got an interest in a transportation company, don’t you? I think you told me you did.”

  “A bus line outside of Milwaukee.”

  “Well, there’s a line runs through Marion, Indiana. They’re having a little trouble, I hear. Not a big company, but fair size. I think it’s up—I thought you might like to know.”

  “Thanks very much, Pete. I’ll look into it.”

  “Glad to be of help,” Old Pete said. “Maybe we go out to a game some day.”

  “You still have the same box, don’t you?”

  “For thirty-five years. Ever since they moved the park out there.”

  “I’d like to, Pete.”

  Fine, kid, Old Pete said to Lawrence Stokes, who was fifty-two years old.

  That would be a hell of a match. A Stratton to a Preston. That would make those Greeks sit up and take notice. They wouldn’t think Pierro was a faggot, a snob any more if he married a Preston. That was one of the oldest, most respected names in the city. That would really be something. And he could settle down and practice right here. I’d better have a talk with that kid. And with Nick. What the hell is that girl going to think of our family if Nick acts like he did at the table last night. That goddamn Nick, he’s got about as much brains as a jackass, sometimes. And as stubborn. Now if Pierro is going to take this girl out, he’s going to have to do it right. He’s going to have to spend a few dollars. Well, what the hell, that’s a good investment. What a wedding I’d give them. What a helluva wedding! It’d be the talk of the town, I tell you. A perfect match. A Stratton and a Preston. He’d better call Mary later. He’d have no trouble with Mary in this matter.

  He got up and began to pace the office slowly, contemplatively. He puffed on the ten cent cigar and stopped and rubbed the toe of his shoe into the thick expensive Moroccan rug, then glanced up at his own caricature framed in gold on the mantel of the blue marble false fireplace. He studied it for a moment then looked up at the huge oil painting of the Acropolis he had purchased at the McCormick auction. If he remembered correctly, and he usually remembered correctly when he wanted to, the elder McCormick and the elder Preston had been very close. Can you imagine that, he said to himself. I have to tell that to Mary. But can you imagine that—my nephew married to a Preston, a real Preston, the Prestons that were so close to the Old McCormicks. That would really make people sit up and take notice, he thought excitedly, so excitedly that he could feel his heart begin to pound. And took a pill out of his pillbox and put it into his mouth and swallowed without any water. And the Stratos brothers—what would they think about that. Charlie would certainly, then, be coming to him to have his daughter marry Nick. And that would really solidify things if Nick married her. Then it would be an entirely different situation. Entirely. In actuality it would then be George, the younger, that was the outsider among the stockholders, instead of Old Pete.

  This is going to have to take some careful planning. You can’t afford to make Pierro suspicious of what you’re up to, though if you did ever put it over, Pierro ought to be so grateful to you that he’d kiss your ass on State and Madison. But he’d probably never realize all the good I done for him. At least he’d never give me any credit. No matter what I had to do with it. Well, the hell with the credit.

  I wonder how I can work this. Get it started. If I could only get Pierro to bring her to Sophia’s wedding. That would be a real place to start. I could spread the word she’d be there with Pierro, and then those Greeks would come around and give Pierro some respect. If he had her with him, and they knew who she was, you’re damn right they’d show him some respect. And I don’t give a damn how he’d react openly, Pierro would like it. You’re damn right he would.

  I got to have a talk with Mary about this wedding. It’s gotta be right. Real class right. Maybe I can get hold of Jim over at the Ambassador to help Mary see that it’s done absolutely right. Not gaudy. But right. Jim would do it. After all, I gave Jim his start in this business. Christ, it’s hard to believe he’d ever become a headwaiter at the Ambassador. Why he was one of the worst bus boys The Mill ever had. Well, you can never tell, can you?

  Another thing, Mary and I better go over that list. Maybe I can get the mayor to come. I give him a lot of votes, and the party a lot of money. It’s good I give to the Democrats this time and the Stratos to the Republicans. Two years ago it was the other way around. I’ll have to tell the Stratos that I’m gonna stay with the Democrats once more this time. They won’t mind. They had them twice in a row while I had the Republicans.

  But Mary and I got to sit down and have a long talk, he thought. Pierro would listen to Mary on a matter like this. You know, I ought to send Mary some flowers. It’s been a helluva long time since I sent her any flowers. Or took her anyplace. Well, this has been a busy year. Especially for an old man. But dammit, she’s been a good wife. She hasn’t complained a bit because you’ve been so busy this year. Not one bit. Flowers? You’re damn right, flowers. And maybe something else too. A nice bracelet for the wedding. No, not for the wedding. A bracelet because I been neglecting her because of my work. And because few men got a wife that wouldn’t complain about all the time his work took. And maybe give her a few extra dollars. That’s what Mary would really like—the cash. She’d really like the cash. And she ought to have some now. While she can enjoy it. You’re damn right she should.

  He went back over to his desk and sat down and called Miss Keith on the intercom and told her to send Mary flowers with a card from him, “I love you, Dolly—Pete”. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulled out his steel strongbox, and after momentarily searching the ring again, unlocked the box.

  Then he remembered Nick saying something the night before about his Army insurance. Old Pete wondered how much it was for, and who the beneficiary was. Well, he’d better talk to Nick about that. What the hell did he know about insurance. He’d get his insurance man in to talk to Nick; to make sure that he had the right beneficiary.

  Then suddenly he thought, I wonder if he’s got a will. He certainly ought to have a will. God, what would happen if he had a will I didn’t know about and something happened to him. God knows who his stock would go to. Did I hear somewhere that in the army they made you make out a will. Jesus, I’d better talk to the lawyer about that today. That would be a terrible thing if he had a will and it was made out to some outsider.

  You know who I didn’t invite to the wedding, he thought suddenly, still staring at the contents of the strongbox. Old John Rakis from Atlanta. Now there would be somebody for Nick—Rakis’s daughter. He had about as much money as any Greek in America and no wife, no one except his daughter. And she was about the mos
t beautiful Greek girl Old Pete had ever seen. Having Nick take her to the wedding would really make old Charlie Stratos anxious for his daughter to get Nick. Why Rakis owned more theatre properties in the South than any individual. The leases on one group of theatres alone brought him over a hundred and thirty-five thousand a year clear. Wouldn’t that be something. To have Pierro with Marci Preston. And Nick with Pat Rakis. What would the Greeks think about that?

  The intercom buzzed. It was Miss Keith. “Your attorney is here, Mr. Stratton. Waiting in the conference room. I think the Stratos have already been called.”

  “Thank you, Miss Keith. I’ll be right in. Tell them I’ll be right in,” he said.

  My, Miss Keith thought, he certainly seemed bullish today.

  And that’s just how Old Pete felt as he locked the strongbox and put it in the drawer and locked the drawer. Then he got up and went over and opened the washroom door. He took off his coat and carefully began to wash his hands and face, all the while telling himself not to get excited, there were lots of things that had to be done. One at a time. One at a time. One at a time, he told himself over and over.

  CHAPTER XVI

  YVONNE slept late. Nick went to the beach alone and told Mary to have Yvonne meet him there. On the large beach towel he dozed for a while in the warm midmorning sun, then got up and took a long swim in the cool water. There were few people on the beach, or up the beach, and he decided to take a walk. Walking, feeling the warm sun on his body, feeling his muscles taut and firm from the long swim, feeling the pleasant soft Wet give of his bare feet in the sand, he told himself that for now the holiday was over. He was not going to the races today, he decided. Maybe tomorrow he would go to the cocktail party Raul’s father was giving. That was if he could get in touch with Nora.

  But he wasn’t going to stay at the party long. And certainly wasn’t going to get as involved with his old friends as he had the last two times that he had seen them. Individually, talking to one of them, Nick felt there was a reality to the understanding and kinship derived out of their mutual predicament. You talked to one of them and in a sense you were talking to yourself, and if you could help them solve their problem, yours would be solved too. But collectively it was different. Collectively they seemed to have a renegade kind of catalytic effect upon each other. They could not embody reality: together it seemed that really all they wanted, as much as they spoke to the contrary, was not to find themselves but to lose themselves (that is if you judged a man not by what he said, or the way he said it, but by what he did).