in my kitchenette drawer (don't you love that word, kitchenette?) and started tallying up the damage. Tender and loving he hadn't been. At least the cats were okay. I found them cowering under the bed. He went through drawers, firing everything back over his shoulder. He went in, around, and through all the furniture. And he had no hesitation about dumping out my sugar and flour, looking for whatever hidden treasure drove him onward.
As for Pamela, she was real serious about me not participating in her vomiting. She ran both faucets and the shower, which blocked out all other sounds. She was in there a good twenty minutes, during which time I picked up the phone and called the Judge.
She had one of her midweek cocktail parties going, mostly other judges and lawyers from Cedar Rapids and Iowa City. Men of the Republican species, mostly. Her man Abernathy took my call. "At the moment, she's showing Judge Reinhold how to cha-cha."
"Tell her it's important."
"Between you and me, I think she has a crush on Judge Reinhold."
"Ah. How sweet. Interrupt her anyway."
She came on the line a few minutes later. "McCain, I realize that you're not acquainted with the folkways of civilized people, but seven-thirty-five in the evening is a vulgar time to be interrupting." She was flying high on brandy and the charms of Judge Reinhold, whoever he might be.
"I need you to call your friend J. Edgar and confirm an agent of his."
"And this can't wait till tomorrow?"
"You're in court from eight on. He'll be busy and you'll be busy and it'll be another day before this guy gets identified."
She sighed. "All right." I could hear loud cha-cha music in the background. "Give me the man's name."
I gave her Rivers's full name. I also gave her a description. The music continued to blare. I imagined all those judges doing the cha-cha in their black robes.
"I'll call him first thing in the morning."
I said, "So how're you and Judge Reinhold getting along?"
"That damned Abernathy. He's worse than Louella Parsons. Gossip gossip gossip. We're just good friends. We belong to the same riding club here and the same yachting club in Florida. Now, is there anything else your dirty little mind would like to know?"
***
Pamela was still in the john. I turned on the TV. Two cowboy shows and a detective show. I turned it off. Couldn't concentrate on anything except the prospect of making love.
Since fourth grade I'd loved her. Emotionally I loved her, spiritually I loved her, sexually I loved her. And here was my chance - so why hadn't I just dragged her right across my messy floor into my messy bed?
She came out a very different girl than she'd gone in. Wore a button-down shirt of mine. Long golden hair now pulled back into a chignon. Exuding sobriety. I could tell all this even in the darkness. "You have a cigarette? I ran out."
"Sure." I gave her a cigarette.
"Mind if I make some coffee?"
"Not at all. But I've just got instant."
"That's fine." She put on the teakettle. Made herself a cup, silent all the while. Went back and sat down on the couch.
"You figured it out yet?" she said.
"Figured what out yet?"
"Why I'm here?"
"I guess not."
She sighed and took another sip of coffee. Picked up another Lucky from my pack. I extended my Zippo lighter.
She sat back against the couch, closed her eyes, smoked her cigarette. The shirttails didn't extend far down her legs. I could see her panties. Lust was getting the best of me.
"He went home and told his wife about me and then she told him about an affair she'd been having, and then they both realized what terrible people they'd been as spouses and as parents. So practically in the middle of the night, they went to see their pastor - you know that Episcopalian,
As for Pamela, she was real serious about me not participating in her vomiting. She ran both faucets and the shower, which blocked out all other sounds. She was in there a good twenty minutes, during which time I picked up the phone and called the Judge.
She had one of her midweek cocktail parties going, mostly other judges and lawyers from Cedar Rapids and Iowa City. Men of the Republican species, mostly. Her man Abernathy took my call. "At the moment, she's showing Judge Reinhold how to cha-cha."
"Tell her it's important."
"Between you and me, I think she has a crush on Judge Reinhold."
"Ah. How sweet. Interrupt her anyway."
She came on the line a few minutes later. "McCain, I realize that you're not acquainted with the folkways of civilized people, but seven-thirty-five in the evening is a vulgar time to be interrupting." She was flying high on brandy and the charms of Judge Reinhold, whoever he might be.
"I need you to call your friend J. Edgar and confirm an agent of his."
"And this can't wait till tomorrow?"
"You're in court from eight on. He'll be busy and you'll be busy and it'll be another day before this guy gets identified."
She sighed. "All right." I could hear loud cha-cha music in the background. "Give me the man's name."
I gave her Rivers's full name. I also gave her a description. The music continued to blare. I imagined all those judges doing the cha-cha in their black robes.
"I'll call him first thing in the morning."
I said, "So how're you and Judge Reinhold getting along?"
"That damned Abernathy. He's worse than Louella Parsons. Gossip gossip gossip. We're just good friends. We belong to the same riding club here and the same yachting club in Florida. Now, is there anything else your dirty little mind would like to know?"
***
Pamela was still in the john. I turned on the TV. Two cowboy shows and a detective show. I turned it off. Couldn't concentrate on anything except the prospect of making love.
Since fourth grade I'd loved her. Emotionally I loved her, spiritually I loved her, sexually I loved her. And here was my chance - so why hadn't I just dragged her right across my messy floor into my messy bed?
She came out a very different girl than she'd gone in. Wore a button-down shirt of mine. Long golden hair now pulled back into a chignon. Exuding sobriety. I could tell all this even in the darkness. "You have a cigarette? I ran out."
"Sure." I gave her a cigarette.
"Mind if I make some coffee?"
"Not at all. But I've just got instant."
"That's fine." She put on the teakettle. Made herself a cup, silent all the while. Went back and sat down on the couch.
"You figured it out yet?" she said.
"Figured what out yet?"
"Why I'm here?"
"I guess not."
She sighed and took another sip of coffee. Picked up another Lucky from my pack. I extended my Zippo lighter.
She sat back against the couch, closed her eyes, smoked her cigarette. The shirttails didn't extend far down her legs. I could see her panties. Lust was getting the best of me.
"He went home and told his wife about me and then she told him about an affair she'd been having, and then they both realized what terrible people they'd been as spouses and as parents. So practically in the middle of the night, they went to see their pastor - you know that Episcopalian,
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