On Archimedes Street (15 page)

“We’re gonna horse the horse with Flippie and MeeMee.

“We’re gonna horse the horse with Flippie and MeeMee.

“We’re gonna swwaay.

“Swwerrrrrvvve.

“Conjugate the verb!

“We’re gonna party all night long on Bourbon Street.”

At each “sway,” Dutch and Googs lurched to one side, and at each “swerve” to the other. Mimi hunched to keep her balance and grabbed Googs’s shoulders. Flip fisted Dutch’s collar with one hand and threw the other up and out, waving it like a bronco buster to keep his balance.

“Yeee-haw!” he yelled.

The quintet of bachelorettes stared as if bitch-slapped.

“Will you get a load of
that
?” asked Lydia.

“Jesus!
What a piece of work.
”

Lydia smiled a lupine smile. “Girlfriend, you’re gonna suck some blond cock tonight, or at least grope it. It’s your last chance for fantasy tube steak.”

Jacky twirled the empty plastic champagne flute in her fingers. “Oh, I
couldn’t
.” She smiled, looking at Flip riding Dutch like a mechanical bull.

Lydia thought about Jack and his pocket squares, plastered-down hair, and the cologne he wore. It penetrated the very floorboards, like the stuff from Arvin Pest Control.

“Dare you,” said Lydia. She had first spoken these words to Jacky in third grade, at Holy Rosary Academy, under the unremitting gaze of Sister Felicity. Sister Felicity, whose chosen name demonstrated her featheredged sense of irony, had made them kneel on raw red beans that time.

Jacky’s face took on that look. The look that Lydia loved. It was rapacious.

A
T
EACH
backstep, Mimi and Flip were thrown forward into Googs and Dutch. Flip and Mimi clutched at each other to maintain their balance. At each dip, their crotches bounced up and down into nape and bottom of skull. Mimi was beginning to feel a pleasant moistness and warmth in her crotch as it nestled into and rode the base of Googs’s skull. She stopped to consider the man she was riding. Dumb jock, but built pretty good. Big old Italian sausage, she’d bet.

“Siiinnnng! Do the dirty thing!”

Googs’s head nestled right into her. She pictured that Italian sausage sliding in and out, and Googs so grateful and drooling. Well, maybe she could go for some of that. Dutch was out of her league, and, in truth, she had a reverse Pygmalion complex going on with him. As buffed as he was, she couldn’t forget the beanstalk he’d been. Well, Mimi thought, as she milked her crotch into Googs, she was smarter than any man. Googs could be trained. But “Pizzalotta” had to go the way “Myrtle” had gone so many years before. She’d be damned if she would go by the name “Mimi Pizzalotta.” “Googs Guerrère” didn’t sound bad. Even better, “Gregory Guerrère.”
Hell, it’s been done before.
But first, her degree. She couldn’t trust Googs to graduate from septic-tank-cleaning school. Let him play football for a while, then flunk out. He’d do just fine working in the chain of fitness centers she intended to run someday.

“Down in the Voo ain’t no one worry you.

“Down in the Voo ain’t no one worry you.

“We’re gonna holler.

“Scrrreeeeeeeaaam.

“Cream that creamy cream!

“We’re gonna party all night long on Bourbon Street.”

Dutch’s suggestive lyrics got the crowd going. “Show us your tits!” someone screamed. The crowd took up the chant.

“Show your tits! Show your tits!
Show your tits
!”

Mimi drew the white satin tailcoat closer. “Get your fourteen-year-old cousin in West Virginia to show you her tits, creep! You know the one I mean—the one with the rotten teeth! And the two kids!”

The crowd roared its approval, suddenly and capriciously championing Mimi, and she sailed her white top hat into it. Hands reached out for it. It took more than this crowd to scare her. She was a Glitz graduate.

Sandra would have been proud.

“S
WERRRVVE
! C
ONJUGATE
the verb!”

Flip’s groin was as alive as Mimi’s. He had a raging boner, and he didn’t even know it. He was drunk on the crowd, on the scene. But the bulge in his khakis didn’t escape Loo-loot’s jaded eye.

“Don’t look now, Mistah Pinky, but—dat pretty blond man ridin’ you?—he tryin’ to fuck yo’ ear!” Flip’s erection caught another eye or two, both feminine and masculine. A woman shouted, “Show your junk, hunk!”

A balcony crowded with men clutching cocktails in plastic go-cups took up the chant enthusiastically. “Yeah, c’mon! Lessee what you got! Show your dick! Show your dick!”

Googs looked up. “Shit!” he said, “We’re in front of La Fruit’s!” The sight of Flip’s tight T-shirt and bulging boner was inflaming the men on the balcony. Dutch escaped notice from above.

“
Show your dick
!
Show your dick
!
Show your dick
!”

Loo-loot gave Dennis the high sign. “We done.” The two boys melted through the crowd like shadows. The take had been especially good tonight.

Maybe that little bit of scotch Flip had drunk at Glitz was going to his head, but Flip liked the idea that all these people wanted to see his cock. He felt great. He wanted to show it. He felt he could fuck the air. He fumbled for his crotch as the crowd roared.

But Mimi whispered to Googs urgently, “Googs! Face Dutch!” When he did, Mimi put her arms around Flip and brought her mouth to his, miming an exaggerated kiss. She brought her lips to Flip’s ear. As she nuzzled the lobe, she whispered, “Two words for you, cowboy: phone cameras. Another one: Internet. Can you say digital tattoo? Keep it in your pants, stud, or find it paper-clipped to every résumé you ever submit for every job you ever apply for.”

Flip sobered instantly.
What was I thinking?
He quickly scrambled down from Dutch’s shoulders to the street. Mimi, left high and dry, thought it best to follow suit. The crowd felt cheated, and there was no Loo-loot and Dennis to marshal them. “Prick tease!” someone shouted. “Get ’em!”

Officer Clement Ratto sighed heavily. “Break it up, break it up! Show’s over,” he yelled repeatedly, pushing and prodding with his nightstick. When he reached the four Redemptorist students, he telegraphed advice—“Outta the middle of the street”—he poked and shepherded—“Hug the walls, hug the walls.”

“Nothin’ to see! Nothin’ to see!” he yelled to the crowd. He got the four turned around and headed back to St. Louis Street. “As soon as you hit St. Louis, get off Bourbon and head for Royal. And don’t let me catch you pullin’ a crazy-ass stunt like this again.”

Shaken, they did as they were told. Mimi tried to shrink into her white jacket with the tails and pull it around her breasts. The three boys formed a shield, Dutch in front, and Googs and Flip on either side of her. As they turned onto St. Louis, they breathed easier.

But then they heard the clattering of five pairs of high-heeled sling-back sandals. Five determined bachelorettes pounded onto St. Louis from Bourbon. The bachelorette party was winding down, and the maid of honor had dared the bride. The very tipsy bride-to-be, leading the pack of berserker bridesmaids, was determined to meet that dare, raw beans under knees be damned. “You’re not getting away from me, Blondie,” screamed Jacky. “I’m gonna find out if you’re a natural blond. I’m gonna suck you dry!”

“Cheese and rice!” boomed Dutch. “It’s a crazed covey of Maenads with the cock-lust upon them!” This went over everyone’s heads, but they understood “cock-lust” well enough. Flip hesitated, but Dutch yanked him by the hand into a dark cavernous alley tucked beside a building on St. Louis. “This way!” he hissed at Googs, who in turn yanked Mimi’s hand to follow Dutch. It was, they realized, not an alley at all, but a dimly lit passageway. At the end was a door. Dutch pressed the bell.

“Where’d they go? They just disappeared into thin air!” said Lydia. Jacky, knowing full well that the four had taken the passage to the little-known back entrance to Anton’s Restaurant, thought it best to say nothing. Enough was enough, and they’d had their fun.

“Girlfriend!” said Lydia, in awe. “
I’m gonna suck you dry
? What would
Jack
say if he found out?”

“Did you see his face?” said Jacky. “Talk about a deer in the headlights!” Then the five fell all over each other, trying to hold Jacky up as she dissolved in laughter. It didn’t work. Down they went, onto the street, burbling and snickering.

Officer Ratto sighed again. The women were worse than the men. What a night! He decided to stroll past Glitz and cruise that gorgeous hunk of man-meat called Cleanhead.

Who knows? Hormones seem to be raging tonight. Maybe it’s my night to get lucky.

Chapter 20

R
ATHER
THAN
hiding Mimi, Dutch propelled her to the front when the door opened. “Good evening, Louis. Miss Guerrère has had an upsetting evening. She was insulted at a costume party by a boor who is even now regretting it.”

Louis’s face was a model of imperturbability. The dewlaps may have quivered a little bit, but the eyebrows, eyes, and mouth were impassive. “Yes, Mr. Abbott.”

Googs and Flip could have caught flies with their mouths, but Mimi was perfectly composed.

“Is Felix working tonight?”

“Yes, Mr. Abbott.”

“We can hardly use any of the common rooms because Miss Guerrère is in costume. Any chance that the Poseidon Room is unoccupied?”

“It is. The only unoccupied private room, in fact.”

“Excellent. Lead the way, Louis!”

Diners entering Anton’s through the front rooms would have no clue that a rabbit warren of corridors riddled this end of the restaurant. They met no one on the way to the Poseidon Room. Many a businessman, including Dutch’s father, Achille, relied on the discretion and secrecy of this arrangement as they entertained their mistresses of an afternoon.

The Poseidon Room sat exactly six. Dutch immediately sprawled on a chair, not bothering to pull one out for Mimi, and propped his feet on one of the two empty chairs. “Anyone hungry?” Googs nodded with enthusiasm. It was his first time at Anton’s. “Well, we’re here, we might as well eat,” said Dutch, pulling out his cell phone.

Flip realized he was starving. He’d worked up an appetite riding Dutch, and the crab salad they’d had earlier seemed like ancient history.

“Pops?” Dutch spoke into his cell. “Guess where I am?” Felix the waiter had entered. “Just a sec, Pops. Good evening, Felix! Could you chill two bottles of Perpignan for us? We’ll be having cauliflower custards, rare filets with marchand de vin, and soufflé potatoes.

“Yes, at Anton’s. However did you guess? Can I put this on your tab, Pops?”

“Dutch Abbott, I don’t care if you do pull straight As. That ten K a month from your grandmother’s trust fund should be enough to bankroll your excessive and worthless lifestyle.”

“It was worth a try,” said Dutch. “Just a sec. And Felix? Could you bring a shawl or wrap for Miss Guerrère? It’s chilly in here.” Googs nearly choked as Felix slid his eyes sideways toward Mimi.

“Is Mimi with you? In that case put it on my tab.” Dutch’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “Why does she need a shawl? Is she wearing a gownless evening strap? Haw! Haw! Haw!” Achille Abbott’s voice was oily innuendo.

Dutch let his gaze travel over Mimi. “You could say that.” Mimi, who could hear only one side of this conversation, shot Dutch daggers nonetheless. “Can I borrow Slim to drive Mimi home after dinner?”

“No, you cannot. Slim is driving us over to some god-awful affair at the Delgado Museum that your mother is dragging me to. Wait a second, she wants to talk to you.”

After a second, Say-Say’s aggrieved voice stung Dutch’s ears. “Dutch? Is that you?”

“Yes, Say-Say.” Dutch had given his mother this nickname. In fact, “Say-Say” had been Dutch’s first words, spoken as his adorably chubby arms reached for her. She pictured that beautiful baby now and sighed.

“I suppose it’s too much to expect for you to call your own mother once in a while, or return her calls.” Dutch rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, this is important. I need to get a hold of Mimi. Her number doesn’t work. She must have killed her landline. Do you know her cell?”

Dutch grinned. “I can do better than that. Hold on a minute.” He handed the phone to Mimi. “It’s for you.”

“For me?” Felix had entered the room with a champagne bucket and was swirling the bottle of Dom Perpignan in it. “Yes, hello?”

Say-Say Abbott had not been expecting such a speedy accommodation of her request. “
Mimi
? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Abbott.”

“Good,” she said suspiciously. What was Mimi doing with Dutch? “I’ve just been on with Paule Saint-Paix. She has a son, Leo, who needs a personal trainer. Oh—such a sad story! The poor boy got leukemia a few years ago. I can’t imagine a worse thing for a mother to go through.” Say-Say could feel incipient tears even now, at the thought of such a thing befalling Dutch.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Abbott. This couldn’t come at a more convenient time. I was looking for work just now.”

At these words, Dutch choked and sprayed the table with a fine mist of champagne.

“Good, good. Can you come over to my house tomorrow at two? Paule and I are neighbors, and we can have tea, and you two can get to know each other.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” said Mimi.

“Good. That’s settled. Oh, one more thing,” said Say-Say. “About your fee. Paule Saint-Paix could buy and sell the whole Abbott clan out of pocket change. Need I say more?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good. Now put Dutch back on.”

Dutch reached for the phone Mimi handed him and simultaneously reached for the glass Felix had just refilled for him.

“Yes, Say-Say,” said Dutch. He smacked his lips over the champagne.

Felix plated the custards. “This looks delicious,” said Mimi to Felix. “What is it?”

“It’s a Holland rusk with slices of foie gras, miss, topped with a cauliflower custard and napped with sauce Colby.”