things fer yerself. Ya go yer own way.”
Belinda laughed. “Yeah, the Chester Einhorn party.”
“Politics is jest pertectin’ yer propity and freedom,” Chester said. “That’s all it is.”
“And you think one man can do all that, by himself?” Brian asked, innocence incarnate, as if he had not started out the day being charged with two felonies for doing just what Chester recommended: taking the law into his own hands.
Looking down at his tiny, gnarled hands clutching the beer mug, Chester grinned slightly, a secretive, gleeful grin. “Oh, they’s ways,” he allowed. “They’s always ways.”
“Like what?” Eve asked.
The little man paused like an actor before answering, obviously relishing these moments in the spotlight. “Like guns,” he said. “They’s always guns.”
During the silence that followed this pronouncement, Damian Jolly’s assistant, Rick Walters, stopped by the table, resplendent in a Russian peasant blouse and Indian jewelry. No one introduced him to the Einhorns and he in turn totally ignored them.
“I just wanted to tell you how terribly sorry I am about this afternoon,” he said. “When I invited you up to Damian’s place, I thought there was a good possibility of compromise. I’m sorry how it all worked out.”
Eve smiled at him. “So are we, Rick. But we appreciate your help. We really do.”
Rick shook his head. “Jolly and that Italian temper of his … things can get out of hand pretty fast.”
“Well, we don’t blame you, Rick. We know none of it was your fault.”
Brian looked at Eve. “Is that a fact? It sure is great to find out how we feel about everything.”
Like a silent movie queen, Rick pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, the noise in here, it’s simply dreadful. It really is. Well, I must be off. I’ll see you another time. Bye-bye.”
With that, he turned and made his way through the tables and across the dance floor to the far side of the room, where he joined an elegant young couple at the bar. Leaning toward them, he said something that made them laugh out loud, though inaudibly, in the din of the Purple Sage.
Chester was looking as if he had tasted something sour. “Jest what in hell was that anyway?”
“One of the movie director’s fag assistants,” Brian told him.
“Ain’t none of that kind out our way,” the little cowboy said. “We jest don’t tolerate it.”
Belinda laughed. “The truth is they just don’t stick around. McDonald County ain’t exactly San Francisco, you know.”
“And thank the Lord for that.” Evidently satisfied with getting in the last word with his little sister, Chester decided to take his leave. Scooting out of the booth, he tipped his cowboy hat and shuffled backwards. “Well, it’s been a real pleasure meetin’ y’all,” he said. “But I ain’t one fer late hours. You jest git outa the habit on a ranch, ya know, gittin’ up at five ever’ mornin’. Anyways, I got me a real comfy room over to the Motel Six. So I’ll jest leave Belinda here with y’all, and I be seein’ ya, okay?”
Getting up himself, Brian shook the little man’s hand and clapped him on the back and joked that he himself was one “rancher” who had never quite made it out of bed at five in the morning. Nodding solemnly, Chester turned and walked off, hunching his narrow shoulders as though against a biting winter wind.
“Well, now it’s my turn,” Eve said, sliding out before Brian could sit back down. “I’ve got a very large headache, and I was thinking you might want to give me a lift home, Charley.” Smiling at Belinda, she explained why this was necessary. “Brian has to stay so he can talk business with some movie people. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
“That’s a fact.”
Eve gave Charley a commiserating smile. “So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Charley.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “It’s past my bedtime anyway.”
“Yes, we’re just going to have to
Belinda laughed. “Yeah, the Chester Einhorn party.”
“Politics is jest pertectin’ yer propity and freedom,” Chester said. “That’s all it is.”
“And you think one man can do all that, by himself?” Brian asked, innocence incarnate, as if he had not started out the day being charged with two felonies for doing just what Chester recommended: taking the law into his own hands.
Looking down at his tiny, gnarled hands clutching the beer mug, Chester grinned slightly, a secretive, gleeful grin. “Oh, they’s ways,” he allowed. “They’s always ways.”
“Like what?” Eve asked.
The little man paused like an actor before answering, obviously relishing these moments in the spotlight. “Like guns,” he said. “They’s always guns.”
During the silence that followed this pronouncement, Damian Jolly’s assistant, Rick Walters, stopped by the table, resplendent in a Russian peasant blouse and Indian jewelry. No one introduced him to the Einhorns and he in turn totally ignored them.
“I just wanted to tell you how terribly sorry I am about this afternoon,” he said. “When I invited you up to Damian’s place, I thought there was a good possibility of compromise. I’m sorry how it all worked out.”
Eve smiled at him. “So are we, Rick. But we appreciate your help. We really do.”
Rick shook his head. “Jolly and that Italian temper of his … things can get out of hand pretty fast.”
“Well, we don’t blame you, Rick. We know none of it was your fault.”
Brian looked at Eve. “Is that a fact? It sure is great to find out how we feel about everything.”
Like a silent movie queen, Rick pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, the noise in here, it’s simply dreadful. It really is. Well, I must be off. I’ll see you another time. Bye-bye.”
With that, he turned and made his way through the tables and across the dance floor to the far side of the room, where he joined an elegant young couple at the bar. Leaning toward them, he said something that made them laugh out loud, though inaudibly, in the din of the Purple Sage.
Chester was looking as if he had tasted something sour. “Jest what in hell was that anyway?”
“One of the movie director’s fag assistants,” Brian told him.
“Ain’t none of that kind out our way,” the little cowboy said. “We jest don’t tolerate it.”
Belinda laughed. “The truth is they just don’t stick around. McDonald County ain’t exactly San Francisco, you know.”
“And thank the Lord for that.” Evidently satisfied with getting in the last word with his little sister, Chester decided to take his leave. Scooting out of the booth, he tipped his cowboy hat and shuffled backwards. “Well, it’s been a real pleasure meetin’ y’all,” he said. “But I ain’t one fer late hours. You jest git outa the habit on a ranch, ya know, gittin’ up at five ever’ mornin’. Anyways, I got me a real comfy room over to the Motel Six. So I’ll jest leave Belinda here with y’all, and I be seein’ ya, okay?”
Getting up himself, Brian shook the little man’s hand and clapped him on the back and joked that he himself was one “rancher” who had never quite made it out of bed at five in the morning. Nodding solemnly, Chester turned and walked off, hunching his narrow shoulders as though against a biting winter wind.
“Well, now it’s my turn,” Eve said, sliding out before Brian could sit back down. “I’ve got a very large headache, and I was thinking you might want to give me a lift home, Charley.” Smiling at Belinda, she explained why this was necessary. “Brian has to stay so he can talk business with some movie people. Isn’t that right, Brian?”
“That’s a fact.”
Eve gave Charley a commiserating smile. “So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Charley.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “It’s past my bedtime anyway.”
“Yes, we’re just going to have to
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