Gwenny June

by Richard Dorrance

  Chapter 8 – Another Russian in the House

  Little Jinny Blistov and his girlfriend Guignard came up the eight brick steps whose risers were covered in fig vine, to the June’s front door. Guignard rang the chime. The door was opened by a beautiful woman who said, “Da?” Guignard looked at Jinny, who was looking at the woman. When Jinny looked at Guignard, she was looking at the woman. Guignard asked aloud, “Are the Junes home?” Jinny asked himself privately, ‘What do we have here?’

  The woman stood aside and they entered. The woman hung back to let them go ahead. Jinny hung back to let her go ahead, after she closed the door. The woman hung back; Jinny hung back. Jinny had a feeling about this person, and on principle he wasn’t going to turn his back on her. No way. She got the picture, smiled at him, and went ahead to the kitchen.

  In the kitchen they found Roger, Gwen, Catherine, Gale, three cats, and a dog. Good thing it was a big kitchen. Guignard was surprised to see the June’s Americano cat and dog in the kitchen because after the dust up between the Russkie cats and the June’s pets, the June’s pets had been scarce. Now the whole family was here again. Jinny and Guignard kissed Catherine and sat down. The first thing Jinny noticed were the three handguns sitting on the counter over near the blue cats. He recognized the Glock and the Beretta, but the Walther was a stranger. He knew the Junes didn’t own a Walther. He looked from the guns, to the woman, to Roger to Gwen. It now was 5:30pm, and the woman had been a resident of the household since she arrived uninvited at 3:45am, fourteen hours earlier. Everyone was sipping a glass of low alcohol German Riesling. He knew he wasn’t going to let the woman get behind him, and positioned himself over near the guns, a move not lost on the woman.

  The woman said, “Catherine dear, please tell the new boy I’m not going to kill him or anyone else in the room.”

  Jinny said, “Catherine dear, please tell the new girl I make no such promise regarding her.”

  Gwen said, “Down boy,” just as the doorbell chimed again. The woman went to answer it, seeming to fit right into the household routine. A minute later Peter and Pater came into the kitchen, with the woman behind, Jinny saying tsk tsk at this personal security oversight on their part. Immediately they checked out the woman’s legs, trying to see if she might be a ballet dancer. They needed some Russian blood and experience in their new ballet academy lineup.

  Jinny, Guignard, Peter, Pater, and Gale had been to the June’s house the day before to meet Catherine. Jinny previously had met her in France, and adored her. Catherine was in Charleston for four days after a few days in NYC representing the French embassy at a United Nations function. She would leave for Los Angeles in a couple of days for a meeting with Steven Spielberg, who was planning a documentary on the cultural world of Champagne. She had come for a short visit to see her special friend Gwen, and as of very early this morning, she was involved in an invasion of the June household, the mediation between the invader and the Junes, and had learned about the Hermitage heist. She was finding Charleston to be not only charming, but also interesting, for a small town. She had made Roger promise that tomorrow he would take her to the warehouse where the remaining Hermitage antiques and artifacts were stashed. Right now, though, she was surrounded by five Russians, three Americans, two Russian cats, an American cat, and an American dog, and she wondered if anyone else was coming. The doorbell chime rang.

  The woman hopped to it and returned with Slevov Rodstra and Richard Adams. Add another Russian and another American to the list of those present and wondering who the very attractive woman is with a Russian accent. Another bottle of the great German white wine was opened, and Slevov and Richard were introduced to The Deneuve. They found it interesting that they were not introduced to the woman. In fact, everyone found it interesting that they were not introduced to the woman, who was sitting, sipping wine, with the June’s dog’s head resting on her knee. None of the new arrivals had noticed the three guns on the counter, which just goes to show you the high level of awareness that Jinny Blistov carries around with him. At this point Gwen realized two things. She had to introduce the woman, and she had to get rid of the guns. She was worried the Mayor and his wife might be the next to ring at the front door. She telegraphed the message to Jinny to stash the guns in the drawer with the good silverware, which he did unobtrusively. Now to the harder task.

  What made the task hard was that the woman refused to tell them her name. She said that was part of the past, and they all had agreed not to demand of her an explanation of her past or her early morning mission. Roger thought she was being an obstinate bitch on this point, but Catherine and Gwen realized she was playing a game. This former assassin had a sense of humor and a sense of fun. So what was Gwen to do now?

  Everyone in the room except Catherine, Richard, and Gale had been part of the Hermitage heist. Recently, ever since her husband had returned to Saint Petersburg for business, Helstof had been spending time with Richard, so he had become de facto a part of the group. Catherine now knew the Hermitage story, Gale had gleaned some of it because she had spent so much time getting the Russians acclimated to Charleston culture, and she was Gwen’s close friend. This group had bonded into an extended family. So, Gwen decided to come clean on this new development, or at least part of it. No harm in leaving a little mystery for some of them to dwell on.

  She said, “We’re going to have some fun. Roger, keep the wine flowing. Gale, Slev, think about hors d’oeuvres.” She looked around the room, not forgetting the Russian cats, which looked back at her, ready to join in. “We have a new friend, and we’re going to play a little game. We’re going to give her a new name. No one gets to eat anything until we have a name that everyone likes. And, that she likes.” Gwen smiled at the woman. The woman looked down, a little shy, can you believe it? A shy, former assassin. That’s Charleston’s cultural influence for you. Earlier that afternoon, after a nap in the third floor guest room, the woman had showered and Gwen had given her clean clothes. The woman’s black clothes were a bit sweaty, given that she had been duct taped to a chair and fiercely interrogated for three hours earlier in the day. Gwen had given her a white outfit, symbolic of her new station in life. Perhaps it was the white clothes that now added an element of shyness to her persona.

  Gwen went on, “Our new friend is going to stay with us for a while. She’s looking for some new friends and new adventures, and as part of that, we’re going to give her a new name. Just like we did with Guignard.”

  Guignard was not named Guignard by her parents the day she was born in Saint Petersburg. They gave her the name Plouriva, and it was Plouriva that had been part of the Hermitage heist team. It was not until she arrived in Charleston, some six months earlier, that Gwen decided Plouriva wouldn’t do as a name for her new life in South Carolina, and the team had renamed her Guignard. Everyone loved it. Now they were going to do the same thing with the assassin. The former assassin.

  Jinny immediately raised his hand. “Jinny dear, you got to rename Guignard, remember. Let someone else have a try,” Gwen said.

  “I was going to suggest ‘Assasseen’, with the accent on the third syllable, but you’re right, I’ll hold back for a while,” he said.

  Guignard got a rolling pin out of a nearby drawer and mimicked conking him on the head.

  Richard Adams spoke up, which surprised Gwen. He asked, “What is she going to do for a living now that she, presumably, has given up….you know?”

  “Do you dance?” asked Pater.

  “Until this morning I was pretty good at dancing out of the way of trouble, but now my confidence in that department is shot,” she said.

  “Do you like nice clothes, like to dress up?” asked Gale, the fashionista par excellence. Maybe we can get you a job as a local model.”

  Roger piped up, “Yeah, a lingerie model, that would work.”

  Catherine, generally the soul of composure and restraint,
saved Gwen the trouble of sanctioning her husband by shooting a stinging, Deneuvian glare in Roger’s direction.

  Roger had the fortitude to say, “But Gwen said we’re supposed to have some fun.”

  Jinny wanted to side with Roger, poor baby, but he didn’t want to preclude any chance he might have of naming the new team member. He had a good one cooked up, so he remained silent.

  Peter wanted to suggest the name ‘Rosa Kleb’, but after watching Roger get stomped for his joke, he hesitated. ‘Rosa Kleb’ was the ugly, female Russian security chief who had poisoned metal barbs secreted in the tips of her shoes, and she was a character in the only decent James Bond movie ever made, From Russia With Love. Peter raised his hand, and when Gwen looked at him he started to say ‘Ro….’, but didn’t, discretion becoming the greater form of valor.

  Gale said, “‘Natasha’ would be a great stage name for a model. With her accent, killer. I vote ‘Natasha’.”

  Gwen looked around the room for someone to second this suggestion. When no one did, Gwen suggested that as the goal was to integrate the woman into Charleston society, a name that was not flaming Russian might work better.

  Gale said, “When you’re flogging lingerie, you want flaming. The more flaming the better.” She sat back and looked at Roger, who offered a look of sympathy and support, but didn’t speak up.

  Peter had another idea, and this time he voiced it. “What about ‘Lechat Noir’. That’s a nice French Huguenot name, isn’t it, and we know about Huguenots in Charleston. She could be one of them and join the Charleston Huguenot Society. There’s all kinds of words around Charleston like ‘Lechat’. ‘Legare St’ and ‘Lestemps Park’. And it would be good for lingerie modeling, right, Gale?”

  Gale said, “Very hot name, very hot.”

  Gwen looked kindly at him and said, “Where did this name come from? It’s very interesting.”

  Even though Gwen said this gently, Peter could tell it was a challenge, so he became a little more inhibited. He said, “Well, because she came into your house at night, secretly, in her black underwear, silent as a cat.” He looked at Gwen, and then over at his special friend Pater, who smiled at him.

  The Deneuve broke out with a laugh, “Le Chat Noir”, she burbled in her sexy French way, “what a nice name, and very risqué, no? Peter, you are a dear boy, very imaginative.” And she laughed again.

  Gwen had to ask, again gently, “Peter, who told you she came into our house? I mean, that just happened this morning, and you just arrived a little while ago.” Peter didn’t answer. “Peter, who told you she came into our house in her underwear, black underwear?” Peter looked over at Pater for help. Pater was even more intimidated by Gwen that Peter was, so he wasn’t saying anything. Peter regressed almost into silence. He managed an, “Umm.”

  Naturally, Gwen looked at Jinny. She looked at Jinny for everything that happened to the group that was odd or startling or surprising or fantastic. Inside that five foot four, 200 pound concrete frame of a body, Jinny was a man of many facets. Some of the facets are dull, but some show brightly.

  Jinny said, “If I thought up that name, I wouldn’t give it away to Peter. I’d propose it myself. ‘Lechat Noir’. That’s a great name. But don’t look at me for telling Peter about the babe. I didn’t know she came into your house this morning wearing only black underwear. And she carried a gun?” He looked over at the woman, who remained mute.

  So Gwen was faced with three yes votes on ‘Lechat Noir’, from Peter, Jinny, and Catherine. She had to nip this one in the bud, but first she had to ferret out who the snitch was that broadcast to the world that the woman came into their home uninvited and ended up in her underwear. Her head swiveled towards her husband.

  Roger coolly poured himself another glass of Donnhoff Riesling, and sipped. Richard, Peter, Pater, and Jinny all watched this one with great interest, having withered under Gwen’s gaze. Catherine, Slevov, and Guignard also watched, wondering if Roger would squirm. Gwen had said they were going to have fun, and this was fun. Not for Roger, maybe, but fun for the others. They waited.

  “Does anyone else think that German Riesling is the greatest white wine on the planet? I do. Quality to cost ratio is unbelievable.” That’s what Roger offered in answer to his wife’s unspoken question: did you tell the whole world this woman invaded our house this morning, and did you exaggerate to the point of claiming she did so in black underwear?

  Gwen didn’t speak now, either, she just intensified the look she was projecting to and through her husband.

  He said, “Ok, I might have mentioned something along those lines to Gale when she called this afternoon.” Gwen turned the psychological pressure up a notch, just with her gaze. “She wanted to know what we were doing this evening, and I said having a family meeting, and yes, she and Richard were invited.”

  Gwen said, “So you did thereby tell the whole world about our uninvited guest, and you did exaggerate about her underwear, is that right, dear?”

  Roger actually did squirm, which brought audible snickers from Catherine, Slevov, and Guignard. “I didn’t really say anything. Gale said stuff and I might have answered, that’s all.”

  It was a long time since Gwen had seen her husband act like a wuss. She made allowance for the fact that he had been up since 3:45am, and for the fact that he had spent several hours staring at the beautiful woman, bound in a chair, sitting in her underwear in the kitchen, mixing the smell of her fabulous perfume with that of $30-a-pound Kenyan coffee. She remembered that all men are susceptible to certain forces of nature that break them down into little boys. She hated to see this happen to her husband, but what’s a woman to do?

  She said, “Roger, are you blaming this on Gale? Are you saying you told Gale a strange woman dressed only in black underwear, invaded our home in the middle of the night? And you told her because she made you? Is that what you’re saying?”

  All nine people in the room, and the two Russian cats, were smiling now, enjoying Gwen playfully putting the screws to her husband. The Americano cat and dog remained expressionless, faithful, to their master.

  Gwen shifted her gaze over to Gale, and the smile disappeared from Gale’s face. “What?” she said. “Yeah, I made a few calls after Roger told me the story. What do you want from me? I’m a socialite. That’s what I do. A Russian woman named ‘Natasha’ infiltrates the Charleston home of the famous Roger and Gwen June, middle of the night, gun in hand, dressed in black Italian lingerie retailing for $200, intent unknown, world famous French actress and cultural icon there as a house guest, theft of purebred Russian blue cats worth $50,000 suspected. Of course I told people. Leave it off, Gwenny.”

  Gwenny enjoyed Gale’s defense as much as the others, and decided to leave it off. Time to get back to the goal of naming the woman, who, by the way, was enjoying all this banter immensely, and was thinking this was the group for her, and she definitely had made the right decision in betraying her former associates.

  Gwen said, “Let’s get back to the name. I’m getting hungry. Somebody start thinking about dinner. So far we’ve had ‘Assasseen’ (accent on the third syllable), ‘Natasha’, and ‘Lechat Noir’ as suggestions. Two out of three weren’t bad, but they ain’t flying. We’ve got to give her a name that’s going to work in Charleston. Who’s next?”

  Richard spoke up. “How about ‘Glissy’? I named a character in one of my stories that, and she’s a real pistol. It’s short for glissando, which is a beautiful word that’s a term from music. It means to slip gracefully from one pitch to another. The word’s Italian, and her expensive underwear is Italian, right, so it works good. ‘Glissy’.” After all the previous semi-salacious talk, Richard really was wondering about the woman’s dressing habits. Black, wow, and $200.

  Gwen looked around the room. Catherine was saying, “‘Glissy’, ‘Glissy’.”

  Slevov was saying, “‘Glissy’, ‘Glis
sy’.”

  Jinny was saying, “‘Glissy’, ‘Glissy’.”

  Everyone was saying, “‘Glissy’, ‘Glissy’.”

  Catherine gave the French version of thumbs up. Slevov gave the Russian version, and the ballet boys and Guignard nodded. Gale said, “Not as good as ‘Lechat Noir’, but I can live with it.”

  Roger blew a kiss to his wife, and thought, ‘Thank God that’s over.’

  Jinny was the holdout. He stood there, leaning against the drawer where he had stashed the guns, eyes closed, mouthing the word ‘Glissy’, over and over again. Everyone watched him. Everyone was hungry and was thinking, ‘What the hell, let’s eat.’ It looked to everyone like Jinny had gone into some kind of catatonic trance. Guignard watched along with the others, thinking, ‘What the bloody hell?’ She opened the drawer and again took out the rolling pin, but this time she used it, whacking Jinny in the stomach, which was like hitting a pine tree. But Jinny got the message and opened his eyes. He looked around the room, and finally said, “‘Glissy’, what a beautiful name.” He looked hard at the woman and thought, ‘Beautiful on the outside, but who is she on the inside?’