Chapter 8 – Bored
What were we doing back in the museum three days after the theft? Gale, me, and Jinny. We were doing what a lot of criminals do, revisiting the scene of the crime. It’s all in the thrill, and the visit ended with an unexpected thrill for me, seeing a doppelganger of Steve McQueen, Mr. Stud in my book. The Curator wasn’t the only one who loved the chase scene in Bullitt.
None of the three of us work, like normal people. Roger and I are not wealthy, but we’re well off. Roger can do things like go to France for three months and work on a documentary about wine, drink up the subject of the film. Gale is not wealthy either, but always seems to have enough money to live the life she loves, which is dressing up, even when she’s not going out of her condo, chasing GQ guys around town, and hanging out with me and Jinny. As noted, Gale occasionally supplements her other income by fleecing guys who think they can play Texas holdum better than her. Uh uh. And Jinny, born on the docks of Saint Petersburg to a fishing woman mother who could tear the heads off the fish she caught, not having to bother using a knife, was a real crook, not a dilettante like me, and a very successful one, at that. He didn’t flash his money around, but he always picks up his share of the checks when we eat at expensive restaurants, always brings a bottle of really good wine when we invite him over for dinner, and lives in a beach house on Sullivan’s Island near Fort Moultrie. Jinny specializes in forging nineteenth century antique furniture, which is how we met him four years ago when Roger’s wealthy auntie bought a fake Hepplewhite table, and Roger traced it to Jinny and threatened to blow Jinny’s head off if he didn’t give back all the money, which he did. Most guys would have held a grudge about that, but not Jinny, who saw in Roger, and then in me, opportunities galore, and we have not disappointed him. Nor has he disappointed us, starting with him acting as inside man when the three of us went to his hometown in Russia and stole a bunch of stuff from the back warehouses of The Hermitage Museum, some pieces of which grace both of our houses here in Charleston. We haven’t given any of that stuff to Gale, who brings the subject up from time to time, acting like we owe her, just for her being herself, wild child that she is.
Anyway, the painting of the Bedgewood babe was having a stronger effect on us than we expected, not sure why, with me continuing to sleep on the living room sofa, and first Gale asking if she could sleep in the living room too, and then Jinny asking, which was weird, like they wanted a slumber party or something. I asked Jinny if he’d ever had a slumber party in Russia, and he said, every night of the three years he was in the army, all sixty of his troop slumbering shoulder to shoulder in the barracks, in the snow, on the sands of Afghanistan. I said no to them sleeping in the living room, and instead suggested we go back to the museum and see if we could get a mini thrill redux, vicarious but still something. The reality is that we all were bored without Roger around, and suffering a comedown after the big event of the heist.
When we got home from the museum I led them into the living room, searched Netflix for Bullitt, told Jinny to open a bottle of California pinot noir and told Gale to get some snacks to match with it from the kitchen. When Steve McQueen first showed on the screen I hit the pause button and said, “He’s dead, but his double was in the museum cafe today.”
Gale screamed, “I was in the same room as Steve McQueen’s double, and you didn’t tell me? You BITCH.” Gale can get dramatic when it comes to possible physical liaisons with sexy guys.
I said, “That’s why I didn’t tell you, because you would’ve made a scene, and Jinny would have had to pick you up under his arm and carry you out kicking and screaming. And, you would’ve ruined it for me.”
“For you? What would you do with him? You don’t fool around. You love Roger. I’M NOT MARRIED. I’M THE ONE WHO FOOLS AROUND. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”
Jinny filled his glass and said, “Down girl. Drink your wine.” He looked at me and said, “She’s right. You don’t fool around. So what do you mean by saying she would’ve ruined it for you? Ruined what?”
I hit the button on the remote and McQueen launched into action. I said, “I don’t know, but I have a feeling about that guy.”
Gwenny June's Tommy Crown Affair Page 8
