it.”
“He bought the most expensive cameras. A Rollei and a motor-driven Nikon plus lenses and tripod.”
“He could have gone more expensive. It’s used equipment. New, they would have cost ten grand. But it doesn’t matter. He’s going to shoot all the photos himself. That saves us a hundred an hour off the top for the photographer.”
“I give up,” she said.
I grinned. “You worry too much. How long’s it been since you got laid?”
She finally smiled. “You ought to know. Unless you have been grabbing some little chickees from the mission that I don’t know about.”
“Workshop, not mission,” I said. I put down my pencil. The last ten days had been a bitch. There wasn’t a night that I had gotten out of the office before two in the morning. That was the trouble with writing everything yourself. There were only so many puff handouts from the film companies that you could use to fill space; then you had to go to work. I made up my mind that if we made money the first thing I would do was hire a couple of reporter-writers. I hadn’t been made for this kind of grind. I checked my watch. It was almost midnight and we were the only two left in the office.
“What do you say we go up to Sneaky Pete’s on the Strip and get us a steak then go home and fuck?”
“I have a better idea.”
“I’m open.”
“You have steaks in the fridge. I can throw them on the broiler and ball while they’re cooking.”
“Your idea is better.” I got to my feet. “What’s taking you so long?”
***
I was really into sleeping. That deep black nothing kind of sleep that is forever and only happens when you’ve blown your balls out the head of your cock. I didn’t hear the telephone. But Verita did.
She shook me awake and put the phone on the pillow next to my ear. “Your mother,” she said.
“Hello, Mother,” I mumbled.
“Who was that girl?” My mother’s voice echoed in the receiver.
“What girl?” I was still fuzzy.
“The one that answered the phone.”
“That was no girl. That’s my accountant.”
“She sounds Mexican,” my mother said.
I opened my eyes. My mother always knew how to wake me up. “She’s black, too,” I said.
“Why are you avoiding me?” my mother asked.
“I’m not avoiding you. I just don’t play tennis anymore.”
“That’s not funny. Do you know what day this is?”
“Christ, Mother, how should I know? At this time of the morning I don’t even know what year it is.”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning. You haven’t changed a bit. I knew what Uncle John was telling me couldn’t be true.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said you had really straightened out and were working very hard. He should know better. You’ll probably lose all that money he gave you.”
“Shit, Mother. Come to the point, why the call?”
“It’s the fourth anniversary of your father’s death. I thought it might be nice if we had dinner together. You, John and me.”
“It won’t bring him back, Mother.”
“I know that,” she said. “But it would be nice if we did something that showed we remember him. Eight o’clock all right?”
“Okay.”
“Wear a tie if you still have one. I have a new butler and I don’t want him to think that my son is a bum.” With that she clicked off.
“That was my mother,” I said to Verita as I reached for a cigarette.
“I know.” She held a match to my cigarette. “You looked like a baby you were so fast asleep. I hated to wake you.”
“What’s that?” I asked, hearing sounds from the kitchen.
“I don’t know. Did you expect Bobby to come back last night?”
I shook my head and got out of bed. The moment I opened the bedroom door I could smell the frying bacon. I went to the kitchen.
Bobby, at the stove, spoke without turning his head. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring breakfast.”
“He’s cooking,” I told Verita as I returned to the bedroom.
“Better him than me.” She laughed. “I’d better
“He bought the most expensive cameras. A Rollei and a motor-driven Nikon plus lenses and tripod.”
“He could have gone more expensive. It’s used equipment. New, they would have cost ten grand. But it doesn’t matter. He’s going to shoot all the photos himself. That saves us a hundred an hour off the top for the photographer.”
“I give up,” she said.
I grinned. “You worry too much. How long’s it been since you got laid?”
She finally smiled. “You ought to know. Unless you have been grabbing some little chickees from the mission that I don’t know about.”
“Workshop, not mission,” I said. I put down my pencil. The last ten days had been a bitch. There wasn’t a night that I had gotten out of the office before two in the morning. That was the trouble with writing everything yourself. There were only so many puff handouts from the film companies that you could use to fill space; then you had to go to work. I made up my mind that if we made money the first thing I would do was hire a couple of reporter-writers. I hadn’t been made for this kind of grind. I checked my watch. It was almost midnight and we were the only two left in the office.
“What do you say we go up to Sneaky Pete’s on the Strip and get us a steak then go home and fuck?”
“I have a better idea.”
“I’m open.”
“You have steaks in the fridge. I can throw them on the broiler and ball while they’re cooking.”
“Your idea is better.” I got to my feet. “What’s taking you so long?”
***
I was really into sleeping. That deep black nothing kind of sleep that is forever and only happens when you’ve blown your balls out the head of your cock. I didn’t hear the telephone. But Verita did.
She shook me awake and put the phone on the pillow next to my ear. “Your mother,” she said.
“Hello, Mother,” I mumbled.
“Who was that girl?” My mother’s voice echoed in the receiver.
“What girl?” I was still fuzzy.
“The one that answered the phone.”
“That was no girl. That’s my accountant.”
“She sounds Mexican,” my mother said.
I opened my eyes. My mother always knew how to wake me up. “She’s black, too,” I said.
“Why are you avoiding me?” my mother asked.
“I’m not avoiding you. I just don’t play tennis anymore.”
“That’s not funny. Do you know what day this is?”
“Christ, Mother, how should I know? At this time of the morning I don’t even know what year it is.”
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning. You haven’t changed a bit. I knew what Uncle John was telling me couldn’t be true.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said you had really straightened out and were working very hard. He should know better. You’ll probably lose all that money he gave you.”
“Shit, Mother. Come to the point, why the call?”
“It’s the fourth anniversary of your father’s death. I thought it might be nice if we had dinner together. You, John and me.”
“It won’t bring him back, Mother.”
“I know that,” she said. “But it would be nice if we did something that showed we remember him. Eight o’clock all right?”
“Okay.”
“Wear a tie if you still have one. I have a new butler and I don’t want him to think that my son is a bum.” With that she clicked off.
“That was my mother,” I said to Verita as I reached for a cigarette.
“I know.” She held a match to my cigarette. “You looked like a baby you were so fast asleep. I hated to wake you.”
“What’s that?” I asked, hearing sounds from the kitchen.
“I don’t know. Did you expect Bobby to come back last night?”
I shook my head and got out of bed. The moment I opened the bedroom door I could smell the frying bacon. I went to the kitchen.
Bobby, at the stove, spoke without turning his head. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring breakfast.”
“He’s cooking,” I told Verita as I returned to the bedroom.
“Better him than me.” She laughed. “I’d better
Similar Books
