Chapter 23 – The Saviors Plot to Save Me From Myself
The sound of pots and pans clashing and banging in the kitchen woke Gale at 6am. Her mouth was stuck shut and she found herself lying on the springs of Jinny’s sofa, the cushions having been knocked onto the floor during the night. She looked down and saw she still had her shirt on, but her jeans were nowhere in sight. This not being the first time awakening to find herself in this condition, she wasn’t shocked or disturbed. Well, except for her mouth. She went into the kitchen to ask Jinny what the hell had happened.
He said, “Whadja say, girl?”
“Ummgrittsezzz....jeans?”
“They’re out front. You threw them off the top balcony last night.”
“Ummsezzzlattakurr....do that?”
“There were some guys jogging on the beach that caught your eye. What’s the matter with your mouth?”
“Ummtricklebombgatt....stuck.”
Jinny came around the counter island, put his arm around her waist, took her to the sink, turned on the faucet, and stuck her head under it. A minute later he heard her say, “Stop it, you’re drowning me.” He let her up, grabbed a kitchen towel, handed it to her, and went back to his cooking. She dried her face, wrapped the towel around her head, and sat down on a stool. “What the hell happened?”
With his back to her Jinny said, “You can’t hold your liquor like you used to. Gettin’ old.”
Gale looked at the bottles on a counter across the kitchen and said, “How much wine did we drink?”
Jinny walked to the counter, counted the bottles, said, “Six.”
“The two of us drank six bottles of wine, and you say I can’t hold my liquor?”
“Hey, I’m not the one walking around in my underpants with my mouth stuck shut.”
“It’s 6am for god’s sake. What are you doing?”
“I decided none of the eighteen combinations of shrimp and grits and wine measured up to Southern Living Magazine’s high standards, so I’m starting over.”
Gale said, “You’re going to cook more S&Gs and try it with more wines? Now?”
“I was hoping you were gonna help me. You wanted joint authorship and half the fee, but I can see you aren’t up to it. Besides, I got nothing better to do today.”
Gale didn’t respond to this but fixed herself a cup of coffee, then another one, at which point she said, “Yes, you do.”
“Do what?”
“Have something better to do today.”
“What’s that?”
“What do you think? Our best friend is going down the tubes. We gotta save her from herself.”
“Why is that our job? Maybe she wants to cheat on Roger. Everybody else does that. Why not her?”
Gale picked up her coffee cup and threw it at Jinny’s head, him ducking easily, ducking again when the saucer followed. Then she was around the island and at him, picking up a copper-bottomed saucepan on the way and trying to clobber him in the face with it. He picked her up around the waist with one arm like she was a roll of paper towels, took the pan away from her with his other hand, and settled in, letting her beat on his head and face, the blows having an effect similar to drops of a light spring rain. When she stopped he smiled at her and said, “I take your point. How ‘bout we head over to her house, see what’s going on?”
Gale retrieved her jeans from the shrubbery under the upper-story porch balcony, went back into the kitchen, fixed herself three English muffins with butter and English marmalade, took them out to the driveway and fired up the 500 horsepower Ferrari engine. Jinny climbed into the passenger side with his five English muffins with butter and English marmalade, and they headed back to town. Fifteen minutes later they knocked on the June’s back door, Jinny not feeling the need to practice his lock picking skills so early in the morning. From inside they heard an aristocratic bark. Gale said, “Open up, it’s us.” Another bark. Gale looked at her watch, then looked at Jinny and said, “It’s 7:30am, and she’s not here. We’re too late. Shit. And it’s your fault. If you hadn’t been playing house with your shrimp and grits and wine, we could have come over here last night and saved her. This is on your head, you big lummox.”
Jinny was going to defend himself when something strange happened. Both of them heard somebody say something, but it wasn’t really a sound in their ears. It was something odd. Standing at the back door Jinny looked at Gale and Gale looked at Jinny. They both heard, “I got some special talents, but one of them isn’t turning door knobs. If you want to talk this over, come inside.”
Gale said, “Did you hear that?” Jinny nodded. “Who’s talking?” looking down the steps from the porch, then over at Richard Westlake’s back porch next door, then back at Jinny.
“I am. Inside.”
“Gwen, are you in there? Is that guy with you? Are you playing games? Did Roger come back early from France?”
“She ain’t here and neither is the Crown guy. Not yet, anyway. Just us chickens. Come in, I can’t open the door.”
Jinny opened the screen door and then the inner door, and they both went into the pantry that opened into the kitchen, where they found the dog sitting and looking at them. Even though it was a big kitchen it didn’t take them long to scan it and find no one. No person, and both of their gazes came back to the dog. His mouth didn’t move but they heard, “I’m only half the show. The other half’s in the living room. Come on.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Gale said to Jinny, “This ever happen to you before?”
He said, “Supposedly in the old days when Stalin ran the country they would send people to the gulags for like, thirty years, and some of them would hear voices after a while, but it’s never happened to me.”
“You think this is a sign maybe I shouldn’t drink so much in one sitting? Can too much alcohol make you hear things?”
“Three bottles of wine isn’t that much,” said Jinny, “so I don’t think so. C’mon, let’s see what’s up.” When they entered the living room they found the dog lying beneath the painting with his front legs crossed.
They looked at the blankets and pillows on the sofa and Jinny said, “You think her and Crown been....you know, over there?”
Gale didn’t say anything but an answer came, “Not yet. But it may not be far off, and that’s what we gotta talk about.”
They turned away from the sofa and looked at the dog who said, “Have a seat, but not on the sofa.” They looked at the pair of antique French Fauteuils armchairs near the Steinway and sat down. The dog went on, “Look, you guys got work to do, so we gotta get over this hump you’re feeling right now, ok? It took the Junes a few days, but you don’t have that luxury, so here’s the deal. I come from a long line of canines that can do this telepathy thing. Family lore says it was a genetic mutation back around 1310, but who knows. We’re just like you guys in that we tend to exaggerate things. Anyway, we only do it when we co-habit with superior humans, like Gwen and Roger. If Roger was here, or Gwen wasn’t going off the deep end, I’da never brought you two on board, but it’s an emergency, so now you know.”
Gale said, “You can talk?”
“Did I say talk? Do you see my lips moving? I said telepathy. Jinny, help me out here.”
Jinny looked at Gale and said, “We don’t have to use words with him. Just think something and shoot it over, he’ll understand.”
The dog said, “Thank you.”
Gale said to Jinny, “Does that mean we can do telepathy stuff between us, don’t have to talk? I’ve wondered about Gwen and Roger; they always seem to be on the same wavelength, always seem to understand each other so well.”
The dog said, “Hey, hey babe, focus here, huh. What you guys do with each other, figure that out later. The four of us are here to work. We gotta figure out a strategy, save Gwen's ass.”
Jinny projected to the dog, “Four?”
“You got half the stor
y so far, me doing the telepathy thing. There’s more. You ready?”
“Ready for what?” said Gale, still verbalizing, not yet in the telepathizing groove. “What’s more than a talking dog?”
The dog projected to Jinny, “Maybe you better mix her a drink, keep her glued down for this next part.”
Jinny projected back, “She’s still hung over from last night. I don’t think more booze is in her best interest right now. Better wait till lunchtime.”
“You know best,” and with that the dog looked up at the painting and said, “Your turn, hon. Go gentle.”
A mellifluous sensation ensconced in a deeply southern Charleston accent entered their minds, “How y’all doing this morning? I’m Gwendolyn, pleased very finely to meet you.”
Gale looked at the painting, then at Jinny, then at the dog, then again at the painting, then back to Jinny, to whom she projected telepathically, finally gaining traction on this new skill, “I need a drink. Make me a drink, Jinny. Bourbon, no ice. The June’s have some very good bourbon in that cabinet over there. Get out a bottle and pour a lot in one of those engraved glasses, and hand it to me. Now, Jinny.”
Jinny did as he was told, then sat back down in the embroidered Fautueils chair. Gale took a pull on the drink, closed her eyes, opened them, and said to everyone present, “Ok, I’m good now.”
Gwendolyn said, “Jinny darlin’, would you make me one of those? It is early in the day, but what the heck, meeting new friends always is a cause for a celebration, leastways where I come from.” And she giggled.
The dog said, “Knock it off, Gwendy, stop playin’ around with the I’m really human stuff. We got work to do. You’re spiritual, and be thankful you got that much left after two hundred years. Most folks are in the black zone, and that’s it.”
Jinny asked, “You call her Gwendy?”
“Yeah. Now I got a Gwenny and a Gwendy; gotta keep ‘em straight somehow. They’re like twins, thinking and acting the same. Well, thinking the same; the one not really acting much, just wanting to. Still, even without being able to act, she’s a pistol.”
Gwendy said, “Thanks for the compliment, dear.”
Jinny, being more adaptable to situations than Gale, said, “So what’s this work we gotta do? Have to do with Gwen gettin’ ready to cheat on Roger?”
The dog said, “Yeah, course, that’s the gig. Gwendy and I have a difference of opinion on the matter, but since we can’t exactly get out of here and do anything about it, we gotta bring you two into it. Dig?”
Gale polished off the bourbon and nodded, feeling better. So did Jinny.
The dog went on, “I don’t think Gwenny’s going to do it. I got faith in her and Roger staying on the straight and narrow. I mean, what’s up with him right now? We’re worrying about her, but he’s over in France, alone, no one looking over his shoulder. You know what French women are like, right? Wild. Wild and beautiful, all of ‘em, so he’s surrounded by temptation every minute of the day. But I still got faith in him, and Gwenny too." He paused. "She doesn’t, though,” nodding at the painting.
Jinny said, “You’re a dog. What do you know about French women?”
He sniffed and said, “Telepathy ain’t my only unusual trait.”
Gale looked at Gwendy, said, “Why do you think Gwenny’s going to cheat?”
“Cause that’s what I’d do if I was in her situation. You seen this guy, Crown? Double of Steve McQueen, star of The Great Escape, Bullitt, The Getaway. The Cincinnati Kid. Mr. Cool, Mr. Blue Eyes, great voice. The guy’s like a black hole of sexuality – any woman comes within his orbit gets sucked in.” Gwendy looked at Gale and said, “You’re not chopped liver, darling. You got game, yourself. You telling me you wouldn’t cheat with this guy?”
Gale handed her glass to Jinny, motioned to the liquor cabinet, then said, “Me? Me, I’da had that guy in the back seat of that Mustang right there in the plaza of the museum that first night. No show driving over to Sullivan’s Island. I’da taken five years off his life-force right then and there. But....we’re not talking about me. Or you. We’re talking about Gwenny June, and she’s a good girl; worth saving. I don’t know which of you is right, I just know we can’t take a chance. We gotta get on her case. Agreed?”
Jinny handed her another glass of $100 a bottle Kentucky bourbon, having poured himself one too. He said, “I’m down.”
The dog said, “For Roger’s sake, we gotta act.”
Gwendy said, “I hate to spoil her fun, but for the good of the Bedgewood reputation, I agree.
Gale said, “All for one, one for all,” and knocked back her drink.
Gwenny June's Tommy Crown Affair Page 23
