The Books of Fell (28 page)

“Who cares, Lenny?” Laura said.

Somehow Lenny came off the bad guy for caring.

Laura moved closer to Nels. “What’s your sign, Handsome?” “Sagittarius.”

“Like Nels.”

“Just like him.”

“That’s a fire sign.”

Lenny pretended to snore. (He had hated astrology ever since Laura had told him Leo, her sign, and Virgo, his, were not a good combination. Leo would be beaten down by Virgo’s tendency to criticize.)

Laura talked above the snoring. “I’m a fire sign, too. We’re filled with passion, Handsome, not like that earthbound character over there.”

“When’s your birthday, Beautiful?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Nels put down his hand, his face suddenly filled with alarm and disbelief. “Why didn’t someone tell me?” He was looking straight at Lenny.

Lenny shrugged. “We would have. Tomorrow.”

“Too late for me to run out and get Laura the Seven of Diamonds,” Nels joked. Of all the jewelry the Sevens purchased for their women, that was the best.

“It’s always going to be too late for that,” said Lenny sarcastically. “At least where you’re concerned.”

And Nels looked miffed. “I was just kidding, Tra La…. But I do wish someone had said
something.
Aren’t we going to have a big birthday party?”

Lenny grabbed Laura’s hand. “We’ve going to have a little one.”

Later, Laura said that Lenny was petty sometimes. “Poor Nels,” she said. “You never let him get out front.”

“You’re doing it again: calling him poor Nels.”

“There’s something very defenseless about him,” Laura said. “He’s probably not original enough to dream up his own ventriloquism act.”

“I didn’t like what he said about it being too late to run out and get you the Seven of Diamonds.”

“He was kidding. He said so, Lenny.”

“The Seven of Diamonds is only given to fiancées or wives. Where does he get off even kidding about it?”

“First we invite him along with us
all
the time. Then you pull the rug out from under him when he takes anything for granted.”

She made Lenny feel bad about how he’d treated Nels…. After all, the two of them had a big advantage over Nels that summer. They were the couple.

Lenny encouraged Nels to do Handsome again, but in honor of Laura’s birthday, Nels said he wanted to present something original … Dr. Fraudulent. His hand had a German accent and a beard made out of fresh corn silk.

“Und zo, Fräulein Laura, vat I hear iss you vant to be a doctor like me?”

“Ja, Herr Doktor, ja!”

“Tell me den, vat iss your darkest secret?”

“I like nice things,” said Laura, “beautiful things! But I hate to admit it.”

“Vell, I hav here something beaudeefill for you.”

It was a thin, 14-karat-gold chain, perfect he said, for a gold 7, someday.

Coincidentally (and because Laura was determined to be a shrink), Lenny had given her the collected works of Sigmund Freud. He felt like a jackass for being so unromantic.

• • •

Some nights Lenny would see Nels standing by himself at the edge of the dance floor, watching. He would see him ask a girl to dance, only to find that when she stood up, she was even taller than Laura. Nels looked like a little squirt leading her around. He looked like some twelve-year-old kid at a wedding party having to dance with a grown-up.

Lenny’s heart broke for his buddy then.

He hated seeing Nels embarrassed, or awkward.

At times, Nels would go off on his own after they came off their shifts. All there really was to do was dance. Nels would wander into town, hang out at the soda shop or the Laundromat, watching for short girls.

Lenny’d lend him a hand, tell him the new young clerk at The Outdoor Store was just about five foot one … some other female he’d spotted not an inch over five two. He’d keep a shortie watch out for Nels. So would Laura.

It really didn’t matter that much that Nels usually did not have anyone.

They’d sing until they were hoarse and dance in a triangle until the soles of their feet burned.

Maybe times it was just the three of them were the best times, because that was most of the time, and most of the time was better than good.

“Promise that we’ll never forget this summer!”

Laura was fond of exclaiming, and they would: They’d promise.

• • •

At its end Nels gave Lenny the white Cadillac to take back to Gardner.

“We’ll have that to remember the summer by,” he said, “and Tra La can make some money renting it out.”

• • •

Weekends Laura’d come to see Lenny, they’d zip around Cottersville in it, the three of them squeezed into the front seat.

Little Jack was lighting up. He smoked Camels. He carried a silver Zippo. He was the only one around in shorts. His baby face, his height, and the shorts made him look even younger than seventeen — more like twelve. People probably wanted to take him over their knees and spank him for smoking.

Even I had to remind myself he wasn’t a little kid.

“Hello there, Fell. I hear you’ve been busy snooping around while I’ve been away.”

“Your suitcase is at the desk,” I said.

He didn’t say thanks or anything else.

We started walking along together, toward the door that led from the courtyard back to the lobby. He had Plumsie tossed over his shoulder.

He said, “My mother said you wanted to ask me something.”

“Your father said you wanted to go first.”

“You go first.”

“I’m having a lot of trouble with the idea the accident wasn’t your fault, Little Jack.”

“Jack,”
he corrected me, without any sign in his face that I’d say anything he didn’t expect to hear. “That big old Caddy came right at us. It was like a suicide mission if you ask me. We couldn’t have gotten out of the way if we’d wanted to.”

“What about if you’d been sober and you wanted to?”

“Cork it, Fell. I wasn’t that bad off.”

“I remember you that day.”

“I remember you, too. You finally decided you had a few minutes to spare Dib, and you thought he’d be so thrilled at the prospect, he’d drop everything.”

“I should never have let Dib get in that car with you.”

“What the hell were you in Dib’s life? See you around, Kid, when I’m not busy being a kiss-ass Sevens!… Dib was the only friend I ever had.”

“What about all those scruffy-looking characters you always had in your car?”

“I’m talking about having a friend. One who comes first.”

I said, “He came first with me, too.”

“Sevens came first with you. Dib told me that.”

We were walking down the long hall toward the registration desk when he shot that zinger at me.

I didn’t have an answer for it. It came like a punch to my guts.

“He should have just chucked you, but Sevens fascinated him. That’s why he let you treat him like a doormat. He was curious about that club. That’s the reason I wanted to get in touch with you. Let’s sit over here a minute. This dummy’s heavy.”

He pointed to two captain’s chairs. As we headed toward them, he got off a few remarks about Sevens that were more obscene than they were anything else. And naturally he said we were all faggots because it always comes down to that with Neanderthal types.

“If you were such a big friend of his, why didn’t you get him in?” he asked.

“It doesn’t work that way, and you know it.”

“I don’t pay any attention to Sevens. What I’m planning to do for Dib is something he’d want, not something I’d ever want.”

“Well?” I looked at him while I waited for him to light another Camel from the old one. He was an insecure Neanderthal. He needed a prop when he talked.

“I want you to arrange to get him on The Seventh Step,” he said.

On The Seventh Step outside Gardner Chapel there are gold footsteps with names on them. They’re in memory of any Sevens who died while he was enrolled at school. A few were from World War I, more from World War II, when kids enlisted because they couldn’t wait…. None from Korea or Vietnam. One was in a plane crash. One had had cancer.

In Sevens we joke about ending up on The Seventh Step, or seeing to it that someone else does. It’s part of our slang.

I said, “Only Sevens get on that step.”

Plumsie was stretched out at our feet, staring up at me. He had a little smile, like he was listening, amused.

Little Jack said, “So change the rule.”

“The Sevens would never allow it, much less go to the expense for a nonmember.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“No, they won’t let you do it!”

“I’m going to have some money soon. In a few hours, in fact.”

“They’re not going to make any exceptions. It doesn’t matter if you have money.”

“Don’t say
they.
You’re part of them.”

“So I am. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Gardner didn’t use to take girls. Now they are. Things can change.”

“Some things can, but this is a waste of time.”

“I’m selling the dummy. The damn thing gives me nightmares.”

“Maybe it’s not the dummy; maybe it’s your conscience.”

The atmosphere in the place was getting to me, I think. I could swear Plumsie was laughing, that his chest was moving and his lips were stretching wider.

“Get off my case! I told you what happened.

It’s your
own
conscience bugging
you,
Fell!”

“I have a date,” I said. “Forget The Seventh Step.”

“I’m getting good money for this block of wood. I’m getting a couple thou…. Tell that to Sevens.”

Either Fen was taking him or they were both stupid. It wasn’t my business. I wouldn’t mind being around the day Little Jack found out he could have gotten a lot more thou than a couple, but that was that.

I didn’t really have any more business with Little Jack. I realized that, finally. What was I going to do, hit someone who looked twelve years old?

I said, “I’m going.” I stood up. He did, too, stubbed his cigarette out in one of those silver sand buckets, and picked up Plumsie.

“Not a bad price for something I dragged out of a car wreck.”

I looked to see his face. The expression was wise-guy smug.

He said, swaggering a little now, “Sure, I swiped the dummy. Lenny Last was dead.”

“So you made up the story he asked you to take care of Plumsie.”

“Yeah, I made it up. I had a right to the dummy, considering what he did to my best friend and my dad’s car. If this wood chip here can pay for one of those gold footsteps, then it’s worth it. I’m not going to take your no for an answer.”

“Do what you want,” I said.

“Thanks, I will,” he said.

He was still keeping up with me. He wasn’t finished.

“The guy that’s buying him? Fen? He says the damn thing’s cursed anyway. I’ve heard others say the same thing…. He says that might have caused the accident.”

“Then why’s he buying him?”

“He’s from Vietnam. He’s from a culture that doesn’t believe in our myths. He says the dummy he’s got doesn’t like her clothes.” He guffawed, and looked up at me for my reaction.

I couldn’t give him anything. I shrugged and said, “That’s the way they talk.”

“He wants the dummy right away because he’s got a job tonight, so I’m going to take the money and run.”

We were in front of the registration desk.

“You’re John Fell?” the fellow named Toledo asked me.

I nodded, and he pushed a piece of paper across the desk, and said I was to call that number. It was Keats’s.

I’d probably need a room somewhere that night. I knew what the price of a room on the ocean was in summer, even in a place like Kingdom By The Sea. There’d be no lobster dinner at Gosman’s unless I took myself down to the beach and konked out under the stars.

I told Toledo to give Little Jack the bag, and I left him without saying any more.

I escaped into a phone booth across the way.

Keats answered and began wailing that the cook had quit and her folks were having sixteen people for late supper after theater that night.

“I can’t go anywhere, Fell,” she said. “I have to help Mummy somehow. Don’t ask me how.”

“What was the cook planning to do?”

“We’re up to our necks in shrimp. That’s all I know. I’d say come here, but I wouldn’t even have time to talk to you.”

I was watching Little Jack come toward the phone booth carrying a suitcase.

Keats said, “Did you see Little Jack?”

He was carrying
my
suitcase.

“Keats,” I said, “you gave the bellperson here
my
suitcase. You’ve got the one with all the dummy’s stuff.”

“I wondered if you’d shrunk,” she said, laughing. “I peeked inside and saw this teensy tiny pair of jockey shorts.” Then the wailing began again. “I could kill Cook! She ruined everything!”

“Keats,” I said, “tell Mummy I do fantastic things with shrimp. When I worked at Plain and Fancy, shrimp was on the menu of most of our buffet dinners.”

“That’s right!
You
cook! That’s right!”

“Tell her that if she doesn’t mind having the cook spend the night in the room with the waterbed, the ocean view, and the private bath with the sauna, I’d be happy to do her party.”

“Can you do it all by yourself, Fell?”

“No, not all by myself. You’ll put on an apron and assist me.”

Keats giggled.

Christmas 1962.

Over Sheep’s Meadow and through the park to Grandmother’s house we go.

“Do you really live here?” Lenny’s question was answered for him by the doorman.

“Good evening, Mr. Nels. Miss Annette said to tell you she and Celeste went out for dinner.”

The Fifth Avenue apartment that had once been Nels’s grandparents’ place was one full floor, the front windows facing the Central Park Zoo.

It was all dark wood and thick rugs, embroidered pillows on silk sofas, leather-bound books, and paintings in rich, gilded frames.

A butler named Lark had let them in and repeated the doorman’s message. He’d been smirking as he did.

Nels said, “They’re usually not even here for the holidays, but the
Seastar
decided to bring in outside entertainers this Christmas…. Lark hates it when they’re home.”

“Then you both live here?”

“The three of us live here: Annette, Celeste, and me.”

“Wow, Nels! A whole floor to yourselves! What a way to live!”

“It would be if Celeste wasn’t around. We even have room for more, but Celeste won’t allow anyone else to live here. She doesn’t care a fig for Father’s wishes.”

The hall they were walking down had walls adorned with old masters, each with its own light.

Nels continued. “My father’d tell Annette never to thank him for adopting her, but to remember it by adopting her own child one day. Do you think Celeste would ever let that happen?” He gave a snort.

He stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. “Wait ‘til you see this, Tra La.”

It was a girl’s room with everything in miniature. The canopied bed, dresser, desk, chair, and velvet-covered chaise longue. Tiny closets all the way around the room were open, exposing frilly little dresses on hangers, and elaborate shoe trees all filled with minuscule high heels.

There were several red wigs on stands.

The room was a mess, clothes strewn about, makeup left open atop a small vanity in the corner, various coats on the backs of chairs, and one white fur thrown to the floor.

“As you can see,” said Nels, “Celeste isn’t very neat.”

Lenny was used to that kind of talk by then. He just let remarks about Celeste’s personality and habits go by.

“A dressmaker does her wardrobe,” said Nels. “If my sister’s been invited someplace formal tonight, Celeste will be in a gown, complete with evening slippers, evening bag, real pearls, real diamonds, and probably the mink, since there’s the ermine on the floor.”

“I’m dying to meet her,” Lenny said. “And your sister, too, of course.”

“One of these days you will.”

“Not this vacation? … I was counting on it.”

“Not yet, Lenny. It isn’t time yet.”

Then he changed the subject. “You should see all the jewelry Celeste has! Laura would turn green with envy.”

“You’ve got Laura all wrong. She doesn’t care that much about all that.”

“She cares, though. She does care about it, Lenny. You should have let me pay for that Seven of Diamonds for her Christmas present.”

Lenny couldn’t get it through Nels’s head that he and Laura weren’t even engaged yet, and that when the time came for something that expensive, Lenny’d want to pay for it himself. For Christmas, Lenny had barely been able to afford the gold 7 to go with the gold chain Nels had given her. In the winter there were fewer rentals of the white Cadillac.

“You have too much false pride, Tra La.”

“Pride, maybe. But not false pride.”

“I’d loan you the money, if that’d make you feel better.”

“Laura would know where I got it.”

“So what! The time to get her something beautiful is when she’s young and beautiful. She’ll be old and wrinkled when you can afford it, if you ever can.” Nels laughed. “An actor spends a lot of time in the unemployment line.”

“I’ll take care of Laura.”

“Someone like Laura ought to find trinkets from Cartier under her pillow at night and baubles from Tiffany in her coat pockets.”

“I think I know her better, Nels.”

“You haven’t got any romance in you, Tra La. How sad for Laura.”

Then suddenly he said, “Let’s get out of here!”

“We just got here,” Lenny said.

Lenny kept mumbling protests all the while they went back down the hall, got their coats from Lark, and found themselves in the polished wood and brass of the little elevator, descending.

Hailing a cab, Lenny said he’d have liked to see the rest of the apartment, at least, and Nels snarled, “I feel like getting plastered!”

Then he pounded Lenny’s back good-naturedly and flashed him a smile.

“Let’s go, Lenny. I know a place they don’t check ID’s.”

They headed downtown in a taxi. Soon they were standing at the bar in Joe’s Rathskeller, holding schooners of suds, singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” and “Roll Me Over.”

After Nels spotted a redhead who was not many inches over five foot, he told Lenny he was going to concentrate on her. “Toodle-oo, Tra La. Leave if you want.”

“I probably will.” He was starting to feel his drinks.

“Give my love to Laura when you call her later.”

“Okay.”

“We must make a plan, Tra La. It’s time to start making a plan.”

He was standing on tiptoe, cupping his mouth with his hand, funneling what he had to say into Lenny’s ear.

“A plan for what?” Lenny could tell Nels’s beers had hit him hard. He only said “Toodle-oo” when he was bombed. It was part of Celeste’s sign-off, and his sister ended her letters that way.