Chapter 38 – Roger Calls Home
I heard a loud bonging sound which I figured was a part of my brain banging against the inside of my skull, swollen up from all the abuse I had subjected it to over the last two days. I lay there wondering if it would go away if I sat up, or get worse. Automatically I had started counting the bongs, and when the count got to twelve the bonging stopped, which seamed funny to me, so I decided to investigate further. I sat up and opened my eyes, seeing the light from the streetlamp outside my living room window. Inside the window it was dark, but I could see around the room, and even could see the grandfather clock, which showed midnight. Knowing the bonging came from the clock and not inside my head made me feel better and even a little adventurous, so I got up with the blanket and walked through the doorway, not wanting even to look at the wall on which hung the painting for fear of hearing Gwendy give me shit. I assume she has to sleep sometime and I hoped that time was now.
I heard noises in the kitchen, where I found Gale, Jinny, and Tommy sitting at the counter drinking beer and eating pizza. I almost went back to the living room, thinking a ranting monologue by Gwendy would be preferable to dealing with this group. Gale was in her underwear, Tommy had a large band aid on his ear, and Jinny was in the same clothes he’d been in for the last day and a half. He got up, went to the fridge, got out a bottle of beer, opened it, got a glass from the cabinet and filled it with the beer, looked at me and said, “You got your choice of pepperoni or veggie special.”
Every synapse in my brain fired out its electron all of which coalesced into the thought, ‘Go check into a rehab center, or at the very least a hotel, do not hang out with these people any longer. Get out while you still can,’ but....the glass of beer on the counter looked so good....and the pizza smelled so good....and Tommy’s eyes still were blue and his hair still was that curly sandy gold color....and I hadn’t eaten since the eggs and potatoes earlier in the day....and I hadn’t had a drink in over eight hours....and we’ve been having so much fun, that....I sat down....though unlike Gale I kept the blanket around me.
I shoved half a slice of the veggie into my mouth and followed that with a slug of beer, after which I asked, “Where’s the dog?”
Gale had an entire pizza box in front of her like it was her own, and a cloth napkin wrapped around her neck which I thought odd since she didn’t have on any shirt that needed protecting, just her bra, and a slice in one hand and a glass in the other, looking almost like she was going to start juggling them. She looked at me and said, “He’s next door with Richard. When we unlocked the door and let him back in,” nodding at Tommy, “the dog said he couldn’t be held responsible for you anymore. Said he could see the new boy was taking his place, and he thought he’d still be welcome over there next door.”
Jinny said, “I think he just used that as an excuse to go for another slab of meatloaf, but I could be wrong.”
I finished the first slice and the first glass, then asked, “Why’d you let him back in?” looking at Tommy who had folded his slice of pepperoni in half the long ways, the way New Yorkers do.
Jinny said, “When I got up to come in and get something to eat, I looked out the back door and saw him lying down at the bottom of the steps, out cold.”
“You ok?” I asked Tommy.
He said, “Yeah. Got conked on the ear but it’s not too bad. You guys should come up to New York sometime. I'll show you some real pizza.”
I reached across the table, dragged the box away from Gale and took out another slice. With my mouth full I said, “Why are we drinking again, in the middle of the night? We don’t normally drink bourbon in the morning and we don’t as a rule drink late at night, so why are we doing it now? We are approaching a forty-eight hour bender, and I can’t remember the last time I, we, did that.”
Jinny looked at Gale, who returned the stare, then they both looked at me, and then they both looked at Tommy. Now it was Gale’s turn to talk with her mouth full, saying, “It’s him,” nodding at Tommy. I looked at Jinny who nodded confirmation. Then I looked at Tommy.
He swallowed before answering, a true gentleman, and said, “I disagree. I think it’s you. You’re the cause.” And he folded another slice.
I was saved from formulating a defense by the ringing of my cell phone. “Hello.”
“Hi Hon. I know it’s late. You up?”
“I’m up. What time is over there?”
“Early morning, about seven. I miss you.”
“And I miss you.”
Jinny looked at Gale, said, “It’s Roger.”
“Roger, who?” she replied, keeping a straight face, downing more beer. Gale doesn’t even like beer. Tommy Crown was disrupting all our lives; hell, the dog had moved next door to live with a boring writer, of all people. Gale went on, stirring the pot like she always does, saying to me, “Tell Roger about the dog. Tell him HIS dog, his faithful companion, his friend of special talents, has been driven away. Driven away from his home and his family. Driven to go over to the neighbor’s house who, on a good day, can offer him meatloaf, and that’s about all in the way of cultural amenities.”
Jinny got into it saying, “No, tell him what we’re doing, and tell him Gale’s sitting on his stool in his kitchen in her underwear. Tell him she’s drinking HIS beer, floozing around his house.”
Now Gale again, “No, no, tell him who else is here. Go on, tell him. It's one am in the morning, tell him who’s here with us, drinking his beer.” And she grinned at me with a truly evil grin.
Tommy put his hand to his ear, which I now could see was swollen, but he didn’t seem uneasy. I said into the phone, “I’m not alone. I got friends over. We’re drinking beer and eating pizza, which comes on the heels of drinking bourbon and stingers and eating potatoes and eggs, which followed wine and roasted chicken down at The Sanctuary.”
Roger said, “All that in the last week? You’re having fun.”
“Last two days, hon.”
“Oh. Who’re your friends?”
“The usual suspects, Gale and Jinny.”
Gale pointed vigorously at Tommy, mouthing, ‘Say him, say him.’
“How’s the dog?” asked Roger.
“He’s next door at Richard’s.”
“What’s he doing over there?”
“The usual.”
“You mean squealing? About what?”
“The....” and I caught myself before saying, ‘the painting.’ “The meatloaf. He likes it more than what I’ve been feeding him.”
“Huh?”
“Got someone else here, too. The guy from the insurance company.” At this, Tommy looked up and smiled at me. What a smile, even with that ear that looked like it had been slugged by a Mike Tyson left hook. I didn’t hear anything on the other end, so I said, “You still there? We still connected?” I hadn't put the phone on speaker.
“I’m here. I’m here. I’m just adjusting to the reality of you sitting in proximity to both a stolen, er sorry, pinched work of art and someone trying to find said object and the person or persons responsible for pinching it and hold them responsible for that action. Hold on.”
I said, “What are you doing?”
“I’m asking the waiter if I can get a shot of cognac to go with my espresso and croissant.”
I looked across the table and said, “It’s seven am over there, and he’s asking the waiter for a drink, just like us. I told you he still is part of the team.”
Looking at Jinny, Gale said, “Yeah, but he’s not drinking to have fun. He’s drinking because he’s coming to terms with the realization that his wife has gone batty.”
Tommy looked at Jinny and asked, “That the hubby? Roger?” Jinny nodded. “He the jealous type?”
Gale answered for Jinny, not missing an opportunity, saying, “He carries a gun around a lot, right, Jinny?”
“Yeah, but that’s not for boyfriends, that’s for guys like Stirg. And the
morons from Idaho.”
“Still, he carries, and if he were to become jealous, he’s be ready for action.”
Jinny looked at Tommy and said, “He does carry, but don’t sweat it, he’s a good guy. And right now he’s in France, so you got time to clear out.”
Tommy compared Gale’s viewpoint to Jinny’s, decided they were a wash, and went back to listening to me talk on the phone. “Gale’s in her underwear because we’ve had a lot going on lately, the dog's pouting, you know how he gets when you’re away, and Jinny’s his usual.” I paused to listen. “Wine, bourbon, stingers, and beer is unusual yes, but you gotta mix it up now and then. You want a wife stuck in her ways? Stale? Humdrum? Static?” Pause to listen. “Yes, earlier in the evening the thought of rehab did cross my mind, but now that I’ve had a beer or two I’m feeling better, more secure in myself.” Pause to listen. “I don’t think I should discuss that right now, but I can say she’s ok, and leave it at that.” Pause to listen. “We did kick him out earlier, the dog did, but he fell down the back steps. Jinny found him down there and let him back in.” Pause. “Conked his head, but he’s ok. Feeling better now that he’s had a beer.” Listen. “Yeah, he did the wine, bourbon, and stingers thing with us.” Pause. “Not yet, but I’m looking forward to it if he tries.” Listen. “Yes, dear, I’m joking.” Pause. “Yes, I still love you.” Listen. “Yes I’ll go next door and tell him we want him back.” Pause. “Yes I’ll tell Gale and Jinny to hang around.” Listen. “It bothers him in the morning when he has the testosterone dump, but he’s handling it now fine, strictly ‘little sister’ mode.” Pause. “She’s the usual pain in the ass, but I still love her. She’s got the hots for him too, but is pretending she hates him and wants him to leave.” Listen. “Yes, I have the hots for him. You’ve seen me when we watch Bullitt and the one with Faye Dunaway. I can’t help it.” Pause. “Yes he’s sitting right here. It’s fun to watch him fold his pizza and eat it; not like we do here.” Listen. “Fourth beer I think.” Pause. “Maybe. Depends how much beer I drink, how much control I lose. A girl’s gotta live.” Listen. “How are you going to work on the documentary if you show up at the winery sloshed?” Pause. “I told you, I’ll keep them here to chaperon. Besides, they have nowhere to go. Who’d want a squat Russian gangster and an overthehill fashionista who can’t keep her clothes on.” Listen. “Me? Who’s chaperoning you over there, surrounded by French women with their French sense of laissez-faire morality?” Pause. Long pause. Then, “We’re not letting him near her.” Listen. “I know that follows drinking beer. That’s when the dog tricked him out the back door, when he asked to use it. We figured he went out in the garden.” Pause. “I don’t know where, I wasn’t watching.” Pause. “Ok, ok, I’ll have Jinny take him out and show him where the tomato patch is so he doesn’t go there. Lemme ask you this, where do you think the dog goes when he’s out there?” Listen. “He doesn’t always sneak next door to go; I’ve seen him in our yard.” Pause. “Well then he’s lying to you.” Listen. “I plan on being right here when you get back, not in the slammer.” Pause. “Ok, don’t drink too much, ok, you're not on vacation like us, you gotta finish the film, and I’ll give them your love.” Listen. “No, dear, not him. Ok, bye, love you.” I hit the end button, set the phone on the table, didn’t look at anybody but poured another glass of beer, grabbed another, my fourth, yikes, slice of veggie, and waited for criticism. A girl’s gotta live, but she’s also gotta pay a price for doing so.
I chewed and swallowed, sipped and swallowed, waiting. The boys kept quiet, the dog wasn’t around to hiss at me, and even Gale seemed resigned to the status quo. They’d heard the conversation with the hubby, so what could they say? Some of it was veiled, but most of it was out in the open.
Finally Tommy opened his mouth and issued the inevitable, “Can I use the bathroom?” Now Jinny and Gale looked up and at each other and then at me.
I didn’t hesitate but said, “You heard Roger.”
Gale said, “Actually we didn’t hear Roger, but we are capable of inferring what he said, and you can’t make him go out in the garden like the dog.”
Jinny said, “That’s what we did a lot in the army.”
Tommy looked at me, smiling, and I looked back at him smiling, and Gale said to Jinny, “She just got off the phone with her beloved, and now she’s making lovey dovey with this putz.”
Jinny asked, “What’s a putz?”
Gale realized maybe she’d gone too far, and didn’t answer, so Tommy said, “It means penis. It’s Yiddish.” He didn’t look offended. “You live in New York, you learn some Yiddish.”
I looked at her and said, “Where’d you learn Yiddish slang?”
“Just like him, you have a Jewish boyfriend, you learn Yiddish slang.”
Now Tommy struck back, asking, “Any nationality or cultural entity of a boyfriend you haven’t had?”
Likewise Gale wasn’t offended and said, “I’m like the United Nations; I’ve hosted them all. Call me Secretary General.”
Tommy stood up and said, “I still gotta go,” and made a motion towards the door to the hallway.
I said, “Whoa, cowboy. Stay with me.”
He stopped and said, “You’re the one who served me three beers.”
“I could have Jinny throw you down the stairs again, or, how ‘bout I introduce you my my neighbor.”
“The writer? The guy who’s written some books about some Charleston people that have a habit of getting into trouble?”
I smiled at him and nodded, but said, “Maybe they get into trouble, but so far they’ve always gotten themselves out of it, too.”
“The dog over there?” I nodded, Yes. “This guy have a bathroom he’s not embarrassed to share with a guest?” I nodded again. “They coming?” he said, nodding at Jinny and Gale.
“If they want to, and if she’s willing to put her clothes on.”
Tommy went to the back door, opened it, and turned back to me. “Someday, Gwenny, I’d like to see the rest of your house.”
“Someday, you might,” I said.
Gale stood up, removed the napkin from around her neck, looked at Tommy and said, “You putz.”
Gwenny June's Tommy Crown Affair Page 38
