you.”
I stood and walked
toward the pool.
“Where you goin’?”
“Swim.”
I dove in the deep end
and doggy-paddled to the shallow end where I rested on an underwater step.
Peggy followed,
wiggled her milky white body through the water, surfaced, and sat beside me.
Wiping her face with
her palms, she said, “Penny for your thoughts?”
Thinking, time and
chance is mixed up with a fickle free will thing and the exclusive consequences
are stuck on the smell of humanity forever, I said, “You know how many wives
Solomon had?”
“Silly Jack.”
Lightning clawed the
night sky and thunder, this time like a falling giant, rolled off into the
distance and I felt that yearning after-Terri emptiness that was there under
the surface and the thought came: nothing
can fill you now … not even sex … move, adapt, or die.
Lightning smacked nearby.
Peggy stood. “We
better go in.”
“Yeah, might get
struck by lightning.”
“Silly. I'm already
struck, you're mine now.”
She took him by the
hand and led me inside.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 1
Real Time
Monday, April 16, 08:32:05 A.M. CDT
Berry Frazer entered
the TV12 elevator, punched the down button and, while the car descended from
the second floor to the first, twiddled his thumbs.
Twenty seconds later,
Berry—six foot one, white shirt with blue collar, red paisley tie with matching
breast pocket hanky, blue pinstripe suit, Gucci oxblood tassel loafers, yellow
silk socks—strode past the TV12 news room. Five more steps and he entered Jack
Carr's outer office where Jack's assistant Joy Lambert, at her desk, opened
morning mail.
Berry walked to Jack's
office door and, looking in, said to Joy, “Where's Carr?”
She explained that he
was not yet in, all the rain, some flooding, traffic, she was sure he would be
in shortly.
Berry slammed Jack's
door. A picture in Joy's outer office fell to the floor.
Back on the second
floor, Berry stopped at his secretary’s desk, said, “Judy, call Joe Galbo. Tell
him I want to see him, now.”
Judy—short sandy pixie
style hair, smoke-blue eyes, a thin five foot six—looked up from her typing.
“Yes sir.”
Slamming his office
door, Berry ambled across his office suite, entered his private bathroom,
removed his coat and trousers, put them on a hook, dropped his blue Jockey
briefs, and sat on the soft seat of his turquoise bidet. After a moment he
picked up, in front of him, a wall mounted telephone and pressed Snakebite
Walker's unlisted number.
No answer. He pressed
Felix The Cat's main number, waited, listened for a second then spoke: “This is
Showroom, Snakebite in? …when he be back … oh … want to do some business … why
not? … take it, I'll talk to Snakebite when he gets back … it's okay … Showroom
… thirty large, to win, Yankees, Baltimore, Pittsburgh … ten large, to win,
Mets, Minnesota, Cubs, St. Louis, A's, and Seattle … what's the point spread on
the Celtics, Lakers' game … twenty large, Lakers to win … that'll do it … Snakebite
calls in, I need to talk to him.”
Berry hung up,
finished with his toilet, and went to his marble topped sink. He squeezed
SoftSoap on his hands, washed, then, one at a time, on a gold BF monogrammed
white hand towel, dried his short lean ring-less fingers. As he dried, he
checked, one at a time his manicured nails.
Finished with his
hands, he popped out his left blue-tinted contact lens, re-wet it, put it back,
then pulled on his trousers and suit coat. He turned to the mirrored wall to
the left of the lavatory, ran his palm over his rust-red toupee, then stepped
to his office.
CHAPTER 2
Jack’s Time
I awoke to a clap of
thunder, a steady rain droning on the roof, and the essence of warm ginger
marmalade filling my nostrils. I turned and looked. The back side of Peggy
looked like a very ripe Bartlett pear. Knotted blonde hair fell over her milky
white shoulders. I followed her spine down to the dark
I stood and walked
toward the pool.
“Where you goin’?”
“Swim.”
I dove in the deep end
and doggy-paddled to the shallow end where I rested on an underwater step.
Peggy followed,
wiggled her milky white body through the water, surfaced, and sat beside me.
Wiping her face with
her palms, she said, “Penny for your thoughts?”
Thinking, time and
chance is mixed up with a fickle free will thing and the exclusive consequences
are stuck on the smell of humanity forever, I said, “You know how many wives
Solomon had?”
“Silly Jack.”
Lightning clawed the
night sky and thunder, this time like a falling giant, rolled off into the
distance and I felt that yearning after-Terri emptiness that was there under
the surface and the thought came: nothing
can fill you now … not even sex … move, adapt, or die.
Lightning smacked nearby.
Peggy stood. “We
better go in.”
“Yeah, might get
struck by lightning.”
“Silly. I'm already
struck, you're mine now.”
She took him by the
hand and led me inside.
PART TWO
CHAPTER 1
Real Time
Monday, April 16, 08:32:05 A.M. CDT
Berry Frazer entered
the TV12 elevator, punched the down button and, while the car descended from
the second floor to the first, twiddled his thumbs.
Twenty seconds later,
Berry—six foot one, white shirt with blue collar, red paisley tie with matching
breast pocket hanky, blue pinstripe suit, Gucci oxblood tassel loafers, yellow
silk socks—strode past the TV12 news room. Five more steps and he entered Jack
Carr's outer office where Jack's assistant Joy Lambert, at her desk, opened
morning mail.
Berry walked to Jack's
office door and, looking in, said to Joy, “Where's Carr?”
She explained that he
was not yet in, all the rain, some flooding, traffic, she was sure he would be
in shortly.
Berry slammed Jack's
door. A picture in Joy's outer office fell to the floor.
Back on the second
floor, Berry stopped at his secretary’s desk, said, “Judy, call Joe Galbo. Tell
him I want to see him, now.”
Judy—short sandy pixie
style hair, smoke-blue eyes, a thin five foot six—looked up from her typing.
“Yes sir.”
Slamming his office
door, Berry ambled across his office suite, entered his private bathroom,
removed his coat and trousers, put them on a hook, dropped his blue Jockey
briefs, and sat on the soft seat of his turquoise bidet. After a moment he
picked up, in front of him, a wall mounted telephone and pressed Snakebite
Walker's unlisted number.
No answer. He pressed
Felix The Cat's main number, waited, listened for a second then spoke: “This is
Showroom, Snakebite in? …when he be back … oh … want to do some business … why
not? … take it, I'll talk to Snakebite when he gets back … it's okay … Showroom
… thirty large, to win, Yankees, Baltimore, Pittsburgh … ten large, to win,
Mets, Minnesota, Cubs, St. Louis, A's, and Seattle … what's the point spread on
the Celtics, Lakers' game … twenty large, Lakers to win … that'll do it … Snakebite
calls in, I need to talk to him.”
Berry hung up,
finished with his toilet, and went to his marble topped sink. He squeezed
SoftSoap on his hands, washed, then, one at a time, on a gold BF monogrammed
white hand towel, dried his short lean ring-less fingers. As he dried, he
checked, one at a time his manicured nails.
Finished with his
hands, he popped out his left blue-tinted contact lens, re-wet it, put it back,
then pulled on his trousers and suit coat. He turned to the mirrored wall to
the left of the lavatory, ran his palm over his rust-red toupee, then stepped
to his office.
CHAPTER 2
Jack’s Time
I awoke to a clap of
thunder, a steady rain droning on the roof, and the essence of warm ginger
marmalade filling my nostrils. I turned and looked. The back side of Peggy
looked like a very ripe Bartlett pear. Knotted blonde hair fell over her milky
white shoulders. I followed her spine down to the dark
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