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“He writes for some kind of radio magazine.”
“Oh,” Boylan said. “One of those.”
“Teddy,” Rudolph said, “if you want my advice I think you ought to forget her.”
“Out of the depths of your rich experience,” Boylan said, “you think I ought to forget her.”
“Okay,” Rudolph said, “I haven’t had any experience. But I saw her. I saw how she looked at the man.”
“Did you tell her I still was willing to marry her?”
“No. That’s something you’d better tell her yourself,” Rudolph said. “Anyway, you didn’t expect me to say it in front of her fellow, did you?”
“Why not?”
“Teddy, you’re drinking too much.”
“Am I?” Boylan said. “Probably. You wouldn’t want to walk back there with me and go up and pay your sister a visit, would you?”
“You know I can’t do that,” Rudolph said.
“No you can’t,” Boylan said. “You’re like the rest of your family. You can’t do a fucking thing.”
“Listen,” Rudolph said, “I can get on the train and go home. Right now.”
“Sorry, Rudolph.” Boylan put out his hand and touched Rudolph’s arm. “I was standing here, telling myself she was going to walk through that door with you and she didn’t walk through. Disappointment makes for bad ma
He put some bills on the bar. The young man in the turtleneck sweater came up to them. “May I invite you gentlemen for a drink?” He kept his eyes on Rudolph, smiling.
“You’re a fool,” Boylan said, without heat.
“Oh, come off it, dearie,” the man said.
Without warning, Boylan punched him, hard, on the nose. The man fell back against the bar, the blood begi
“Let’s go, Rudolph,” Boylan said calmly.
They were out of the place before the barman or anyone else could make a move.
“I haven’t been there since before the war,” Boylan said, as they headed toward Sixth Avenue. “The clientele has changed.”
If Gretchen had walked through the door, Rudolph thought, there would have been one less nosebleed in New York City that night.
After di
The place was crowded, mostly with young people, many of whom were black, but Boylan got them a little table next to the small dance floor with an accurate tip. The music was deafening and wonderful. If the River Five was to learn anything from the band at Cafe Society it would be to throw their instruments into the river.
Rudolph leaned forward intently, gloriously battered by the music, his eyes glued on the Negro trumpeter. Boylan sat back smoking and drinking whiskies, in a small, private zone of silence. Rudolph had ordered a whiskey, too, because he had to order something, but it stood untouched on the table. With all the drinking Boylan had done that afternoon and evening, he would probably be in no condition to drive and Rudolph knew that he had to remain sober to take the wheel. Boylan had taught him to drive on the back roads around Port Philip.
“Teddy!” A woman in a short evening dress, with bare arms and shoulders, was standing in front of the table. “Teddy Boylan, I thought you were dead.”
Boylan stood up. “Hello, Cissy,” he said. “I’m not dead.”
The woman flung her arms around him and kissed him, on the mouth. Boylan looked a
“Where on earth have you been hiding yourself?” The woman stepped back a little, but held onto Boylan’s sleeve. She was wearing a lot of jewelry that glittered in the reflection of the spotlight on the trumpet. Rudolph couldn’t tell whether the jewelry was real or not. She was startlingly made up, with colored eyeshadow and a brilliantly rouged mouth. She kept looking at Rudolph, smiling. Boylan didn’t make any move to introduce him and Rudolph didn’t know whether he ought to sit down or not. “It’s been centuries,” she went on, not waiting for any answers, continuing to look boldly at Rudolph. “There’ve been the wildest rumors. It’s just sinful, the way your nearest and dearest drop out of sight these days. Come on over to the table. The whole gang’s there. Susie, Jack, Karen … They’re just longing to see you. You’re looking absolutely marvelous, darling. Ageless. Imagine finding you in a place like this. Why, it’s an absolute resurrection.” She still kept smiling widely at Rudolph. “Do come over to the table. Bring your beautiful young friend with you. I don’t think I caught the name, darling.”
“May I present Mr. Rudolph Jordache,” Boylan said stiffly. “Mrs. Alfred Sykes.”
“Cissy to my friends,” the woman said. “He is ravishing. I don’t blame you for switching, darling.”
“Don’t be more idiotic than God originally made you, Cissy,” Boylan said.
The woman laughed. “I see you’re just as much of a shit as ever, Teddy,” she said. “Do come over to the table and say hello to the group.” With a fluttery wave of the hand, she turned and made her way through the jungle of tables toward the back of the room.
Boylan sat down and motioned to Rudolph to sit down, too. Rudolph could feel himself blushing. Luckily, it was too dark for anyone to tell.
Boylan drained his whiskey. “Silly woman,” he said. “I had an affair with her before the war. She wears badly.” Boylan didn’t look at Rudolph. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “It’s too damned noisy. And there are too many of our colored brethren on the premises. It’s like a slave ship after a successful mutiny.”
He waved to a waiter and got the check and paid it and they redeemed their coats from the hatcheck girl and went out. Mrs. Sykes, Cissy to her friends, was the first person Boylan had ever introduced Rudolph to, not counting Perkins, of course. If that’s what Boylan’s friends were like, you could understand why Boylan stayed up on his hill, alone. Rudolph was sorry the woman had come over to the table. The blush reminded him painfully that he was young and unworldly. Also, he would have liked to stay in there and listen to that trumpeter all night.
They walked east on Fourth Street, toward where the car was parked, past darkened shop fronts and bars which were little bursts of light and music and loud conversation on their way.
“New York is hysterical,” Boylan said. “Like an unsatisfied, neurotic woman. It’s an aging nymphomaniac of a city. God, the time I’ve wasted here.” The woman’s appearance had plainly disturbed him. “I’m sorry about that bitch,” he said.
“I didn’t mind,” Rudolph said. He did mind, but he didn’t want Boylan to think it bothered him.
“People’re filthy,” Boylan said. “The leer is the standard expression on the American face. Next time we come to town, bring your girl along. You’re too sensitive a boy to be exposed to rot like that.”
“I’ll ask her,” Rudolph said. He was almost sure Julie wouldn’t come. She didn’t like his being friendly with Boylan. Beast of prey, she called him, and the Peroxide Man.
“Maybe we’ll ask Gretchen and her young man and I’ll go through my old address books and see if any of the girls I used to know are still alive and we’ll make it a party.”
“It ought to be fun,” Rudolph said. “Like the sinking of the Titanic.”
Boylan laughed. “The clear vision of youth,” he said. “You’re a rewarding boy.” His tone was affectionate. “With any luck, you’ll be a rewarding man.”