Benny laughed, slapping me on the back so hard that I lost my balance and placed one hand into the can of paint I’d been using to touch up the trim.
“Watch it, wise guy!” I yelled, annoyed but laughing in spite of myself. I reached to smear my hand on Benny’s face, but he grabbed my wrist and held it at arm’s length.
“Unhand me, you dried herring!” I shouted, setting my mouth into a steely grimace as I issued my challenge. For as long as I could remember, trying to out-insult each other had been our favorite sport. Whoever balked during a quick succession of comebacks—or laughed first—forfeited.
“Flea-bitten gypsy!” Benny replied. Gritting his teeth and twisting my wrist, we simultaneously launched into an arm-wrestling showdown.
“Rank-smelling rapscallion!”
“Knobby-kneed gnat!”
“Pig-snouted … canker sore!”
“Sweat-stained scamp!”
“Clay-brained, Cupid-struck carbuncle!” My last remark prompted an uptick at the corners of Benny’s mouth: an involuntary grin.
“Hey, can’t a couple of girls get some service around here?” A feminine voice interrupted our horseplay as Benny, vanquished, released his grip on me.
“I win,” I taunted him.
“No.
I
win,” he grinned, pointing at the visitor who’d interrupted. “Estelle! You made it!” He bounded toward the front entrance to greet a young woman of indescribable beauty. Benny clearly hadn’t been exaggerating his claims. I half-expected him to launch into a vaudeville-style song and dance number at the sight of her, but he seemed unexpectedly well-mannered around her.
“You must be Nick,” she said, unclutching one gloved hand from the handle of her pocketbook and extending it toward me. I displayed my paint-covered right hand and shrugged. She laughed. With bright eyes and hair that framed her face in a glossy platinum permanent wave, she was an Art Deco goddess come to life. Her face mixed a screen siren’s beauty with the placid serenity of those hallowed creatures in the copy of
Early Christian Saints
Ma kept on the shelf of her nightstand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you!” she continued. “Ben’s told me so much about you.”
“My apologies for that. I’m afraid I’m a terrible bore.”
“Oh, that’s okay. The coma only lasted a few days.”
Wow. This girl didn’t miss a beat, and judging by her bold red lips and the jaunty angle at which she wore her felt tilt hat, I got the sense she was no shrinking violet. Since I wasn’t sure to what extent Benny had professed his feelings to her (nor was I completely convinced my friend was ready to retire his jersey as the Near West Side’s number one playboy) I opted not to make a huge verbal fuss over meeting her. After all, Benny seemed effusive enough for the both of us.
“She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he proclaimed, throwing all subtlety to the wind. Though I naturally agreed with him, it would have been awkward for me to vocally concur, especially in front of her sister, who clearly hadn’t inherited the same exquisite features.
“And you must be Gertrude,” Benny said, turning to this glum and lackluster also-ran, who looked as if she would rather be in Timbuktu. My friend threw me an apologetic sideways glance.
“That’s right,” the sister practically huffed. Pointing to the freshly painted walls, she added, “Why’d you miss the top part?”
“Care to explain, my acrophobic friend?” Benny asked, staring at me with a smirk.
“Come now, Nick. You’re not afraid of heights?” Something about that question, or the sound of Estelle’s voice as she asked it, gave me a startling sensation of déjà vu. Before I could answer, she was onto another subject. “This is so exciting, Ben!” She sized up the room with a broad smile and a glint in her eye. As she made a fuss over what we’d done with the place and how thrilled she was for us, I stared fixedly at the young woman, trying to figure out what it was that was making
“Watch it, wise guy!” I yelled, annoyed but laughing in spite of myself. I reached to smear my hand on Benny’s face, but he grabbed my wrist and held it at arm’s length.
“Unhand me, you dried herring!” I shouted, setting my mouth into a steely grimace as I issued my challenge. For as long as I could remember, trying to out-insult each other had been our favorite sport. Whoever balked during a quick succession of comebacks—or laughed first—forfeited.
“Flea-bitten gypsy!” Benny replied. Gritting his teeth and twisting my wrist, we simultaneously launched into an arm-wrestling showdown.
“Rank-smelling rapscallion!”
“Knobby-kneed gnat!”
“Pig-snouted … canker sore!”
“Sweat-stained scamp!”
“Clay-brained, Cupid-struck carbuncle!” My last remark prompted an uptick at the corners of Benny’s mouth: an involuntary grin.
“Hey, can’t a couple of girls get some service around here?” A feminine voice interrupted our horseplay as Benny, vanquished, released his grip on me.
“I win,” I taunted him.
“No.
I
win,” he grinned, pointing at the visitor who’d interrupted. “Estelle! You made it!” He bounded toward the front entrance to greet a young woman of indescribable beauty. Benny clearly hadn’t been exaggerating his claims. I half-expected him to launch into a vaudeville-style song and dance number at the sight of her, but he seemed unexpectedly well-mannered around her.
“You must be Nick,” she said, unclutching one gloved hand from the handle of her pocketbook and extending it toward me. I displayed my paint-covered right hand and shrugged. She laughed. With bright eyes and hair that framed her face in a glossy platinum permanent wave, she was an Art Deco goddess come to life. Her face mixed a screen siren’s beauty with the placid serenity of those hallowed creatures in the copy of
Early Christian Saints
Ma kept on the shelf of her nightstand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you!” she continued. “Ben’s told me so much about you.”
“My apologies for that. I’m afraid I’m a terrible bore.”
“Oh, that’s okay. The coma only lasted a few days.”
Wow. This girl didn’t miss a beat, and judging by her bold red lips and the jaunty angle at which she wore her felt tilt hat, I got the sense she was no shrinking violet. Since I wasn’t sure to what extent Benny had professed his feelings to her (nor was I completely convinced my friend was ready to retire his jersey as the Near West Side’s number one playboy) I opted not to make a huge verbal fuss over meeting her. After all, Benny seemed effusive enough for the both of us.
“She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he proclaimed, throwing all subtlety to the wind. Though I naturally agreed with him, it would have been awkward for me to vocally concur, especially in front of her sister, who clearly hadn’t inherited the same exquisite features.
“And you must be Gertrude,” Benny said, turning to this glum and lackluster also-ran, who looked as if she would rather be in Timbuktu. My friend threw me an apologetic sideways glance.
“That’s right,” the sister practically huffed. Pointing to the freshly painted walls, she added, “Why’d you miss the top part?”
“Care to explain, my acrophobic friend?” Benny asked, staring at me with a smirk.
“Come now, Nick. You’re not afraid of heights?” Something about that question, or the sound of Estelle’s voice as she asked it, gave me a startling sensation of déjà vu. Before I could answer, she was onto another subject. “This is so exciting, Ben!” She sized up the room with a broad smile and a glint in her eye. As she made a fuss over what we’d done with the place and how thrilled she was for us, I stared fixedly at the young woman, trying to figure out what it was that was making
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