Chapter 49 – Stirg Thinks
Stirg hadn’t had a drink in weeks. Some people, when they feel depressed, drink more. Not Stirg. One thing he had learned, all those hard years roaming around Argentina looking for fugitive Nazis, was self-discipline. He knew he had to be sharp almost all the time, and drinking interfered with that.
When he went off the deep end and tried to crash his boat into Henric’s boat, he was pretty far out there. He blamed the entire June entourage both for his granddaughter’s defection and for the Hermitage heist. Even during those rotten days, though, he didn’t drink. Now that he and Anna were back in touch with each other, and he had regained his senses, he allowed himself a few drinks now and then. He and Nev were doing the Otis Redding thing, out at the end of the dock. He had gotten the big scrap along the side of his ship fixed, too. They were drinking spicy bloody marys, made by Nev, and Nev was happy about his boss’s new state of mind, because he had missed the drinking part of life.
Nev also had regained the equilibrium he had lost the day Roger had hit Stirg on the head with his gun, which was followed by Jinny walking out of the house with his boss’s gun. Humiliation can be a powerful motivator and had caused Nev to become consumed with the emotion of revenge. Both guys had gone to a galaxy far away, but now they were back, and Stirg was figuring out what to do. His spicy drink and the warm evening air were nice.
“How come you never made a pass at Anna?” Stirg said.
Nev didn’t answer right away, thinking it best to tread with caution. He wasn’t 100% sure his boss was all the way back from the distant galaxy he had visited. “She’s your granddaughter. You’re my boss. How would I do that?”
“You’re older than her. Like twenty years older. You think it’s ok for older guys to go out with younger women?” Stirg drained his drink.
“Yeah, it’s ok, as long as she isn’t your boss’s granddaughter. Then it’s not ok. Ok?”
Stirg said, “I don’t have a boss, so I don’t have to worry about that, but I’ve been chasing some younger women around lately, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing for me anymore. Maybe I should act my age.”
Nev didn’t bite on this one. He sipped his drink and watched a Coast Guard inflatable boat with a 50. cal machine gun mounted on the front, zip past.
“Anna and I are ok with each other again. Thank God. She pissed me off, but I missed her bad. She’s a doll. Is she a doll, or not?” he asked.
Nev was trying to enjoy his drink and the evening, and here his boss was asking him pointed questions. “She’s a nice girl,” he said.
Stirg thought for a minute, said, “Is she a girl, or a woman, or a doll? She’s twenty-seven. I’ve chased twenty-somethings, so that makes her a woman. How come you called her a girl?” He looked at Nev.
Jesus Christ. Fuck off. “That’s just a figure of speech, Boss. She’s a nice woman. Not a doll, just a nice person. Very proper.”
“What’s your definition of doll? Is a doll promiscuous? Or is that a term of endearment? Or is a doll the same thing as a babe? Is babe derogatory? Is it disrespectful? Is political correctness crap, or should we all be doing it all the fucking time? You’re a Jew. Is calling someone a Jew disrespectful? Can gentiles call Jews, Jews? Where does political correctness come down on that one? Where’s Woody Allen when I need him?”
Nev got up and went on board the ship and mixed two more drinks. He took a long time doing it, hoping Stirg would forget the list of questions he had issued to society at large. He made Stirg’s drink really strong, hoping it would curb his probes into contemporary sociology.
When he came back he said, “Anna’s no longer my baby, is she? Plus, I was glad when she took the Walther and broke into the June’s home to brace their asses, see if they were the ones done the Hermitage caper. I guess a grandfather wouldn’t do that if the girl, woman, still was his baby. Would he?” He looked at Nev.
Nev handed Stirg the strong-ass drink and hoped he would guzzle it. Nev was trying to relax after being nuts for a few weeks himself, and get back in the groove of living the good life, working for a billionaire. He’d even gotten back into doing pushups again, try to get back into the Israeli commando thing and bodyguard thing. Get his confidence back. Wasn’t easy knowing four women in bikinis had invaded his place of residence; seeing four babes sitting in his living room, his boss’s living room, waving guns around. Four women, rather. Nev took a deep breath, sucked on his bloody mary. Easy does it. Don’t want to fly away again, do we Nev?
“Anna says she’s left that Sullivan’s Island house. The Rodstras, those fucks. It’s good she left. I asked her where she’s living, she said someplace called The Hall. On John Street. She said she’s working there, too. Livin’ and working, same place. I asked her what’s she’s doing, she said she’s working with the same bunch, the American fucks and the Russian fucks. That’s where the piano went. She says she’s playing the piano for them, a ballet. What do Americans know about ballet? Nothing. We know ballet.”
Nev looked at Stirg’s glass, saw it was half empty, hoped Stirg would drain it, calm down. Starting to sound like he was getting ready to board the spaceship again, go away. Nev was NOT getting on board again with him. Not this time. Once was enough. Otis Redding. That’s who he wanted to serve. Out here, on the dock. Not up there in space. Hell with that.
“Would be nice to hear her play piano, though. She’s great. Maybe some Stravinsky. That guy could do ballet stuff. Maybe we should go down to John Street, see what’s happening.” He sipped, not fast enough for Nev. “I can’t screw up with Anna again, can I?” He looked at Nev. “Better not go down there to see her, if that crew is there. She said she’d come here anytime, so that’s what I’ll do, invite her here once a week, have dinner. Can you still cook? Maybe take her out to dinner. She can tell me more about what’s she’s doing with the music, the ballet. Tell me more about what the fucks are doing, too.”
Gwenny June Page 48
