Time and Chance (20 page)

“Jesus,” she said. “You
okay?”

“Super.”

“How about Joe, did he
like it?”

I knew Joe so I told
the truth. “No.”

“He didn't like it?”

Truth never works when
you're dealing with real time. “He liked it. He liked it.”

“Okay, okay. Don't be
so crabby.” After a second, she said, “What did you think?”

“About what?”

“Jack … my show.”

“We have to go over
that national map again.”

“For what?”

“You screwed it up.”

“Picky picky picky.”

I lit a Salem.

She flipped ashes at
the dash ashtray. “I thought it went smooth, first time and all.”

“That says it.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You didn't like it.”

“It'll get better.”

“It was like we
rehearsed it, wasn't it?”

“Don't worry about
it.”

“Okay, I won't.” She
pinched the inside of my thigh.

We entered The Berry
lobby and went directly to the Rebel Lounge. The corner U booth open, she
selected it, snuggled to the back, and patted the leather next to her.

I obliged the pat and
noticed some of The Berry employees peeping at us from around a corner. I also
noticed the bartender talked with his only customer, a young female with hair
to the floor. The only other customers were a graying senior couple, picking at
salads, at a table across from our booth. The Berry’s manager, Bernard (clammy,
nervous, bloodshot eyes, yellow hair) came by and, lamenting the bad news about
the Pheasant & Grouse scheduled shindig being cancelled, all those guests
sent away, I thought he was going to cry. A few minutes later the newspaper
photo lady showed up, wanted to take a picture of Peggy and me. I told her no.

Peggy didn't like
that, primped her hair, placed a Parliament filter between her cherry lips, and
waited.

I clicked Zippo, lit
her, and watched her eyes glow as she drew smoke deep into her lungs. Smoke
seeping out her nose, she scanned the lounge and said, “Wonder if anybody saw
my show?”

“There's nobody in
here.”

Peggy crushed a fist
into my cheek. “You're being a shit. What's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

 
“Oh yes there is, and I know what it is too.”

Fascinated by palm
readers and snake handlers, it was not so much the diagnosis that intrigued me,
it was the remedy. I said, “What's that?”

“I ain't telling.”

Just then a server—young
white male, purple and white hair, gold earrings, looked like, if you dropped a
quarter in him, he would start singing rap music—tossed two of the Rebel's red
cardboard menus on the table. Filling our water glasses, he studied Peggy.

Peggy said, “I think
I'll celebrate and have a champagne cocktail … with a cherry in it.”

“Make mine a double
Jack, little ice.”

The server studied
Peggy for a stilled second then he put a wrist on his hip and said, “Seen your
weather show, Ms. Peggy, cool. Could I get your John Hancock?” The rapper
offered his pen.

“Sure thing, honey.”
Peggy signed one of the menus with a flourish and handed it to him.

Rapper said, “Cool.”

“Make mine a triple.”
I smiled. “Preferably tonight.”

The rapper frowned
then left.

I noticed Peggy
smiling at the bartender, the help, the senior couple across the way, and while
she smiled, I thought of Berry vomiting into his bidet. I thought of Snakebite.
I thought of Stella. I thought of Big Joe. I thought about the news room. I
thought of Sago Yu and that co-ed’s heart in the Tokyo car mogul. I thought of
my stupidity for allowing myself to be in this situation. I thought of the many
nights, acid in my throat, I remembered Terri. I thought of Jay. Then I thought
how much more I was thinking about not wanting to be where I was, and all the
time I was there. Then I thought, ninety percent of your life is being consumed
being some place you don't want to be or doing something you don't want to be
doing.

 
What kind of existence is this, anyway. A tree
can't do much about where it is, but you … what power is this force ruling the
universe, and why? Did I put me in this or did chance? Question of the ages,
dear boy. It's not time and chance. That's an excuse. The problem is not a God,
a king, a purpose, a love child divining water on the moon. The problem is you,
a tree, trying to grow in a water less land. But, you have legs, you can WALK!
No guts. Guts is hard. TREE!

 
“Jack, dear.” Peggy interrupted, “Your lips
are moving. Sign of old age, darlin’. Better marry me now and we'll grow old
together. I love you.”

I massaged the bridge
of my nose and thought,
did she just say what I think she said?

Peggy turned my head
to hers, stared into my eyes, squeezed him gently, said, “I said, I love you.”

Just in the nick of
time, Rapper arrived with our drinks, served them, and left.

I took a long sip.

Peggy ran her finger
around the rim of her glass and said it again, “I said I love you.”

I glanced at her.
She's really serious. Change the subject, quick. I looked at the menu. “What
would you like to eat? I hear the Reubens are good here….”

”Bastard.” She sunk
fingernails into my right cheek and dragged them slowly down to my chin.

“Fries are good too,”
I said.

“Fuck you.”

“Me either, let's just
drink,” I put the menu down and touched a white napkin to the stinging
sensation on my cheek. I looked at the cloth. Blood.

She turned my head to
her. Her eyes primordial, she whispered, “I said, I love you.”

She had said that a
week ago, amid things at Tara. I didn't feel the same way. I mean, some love
can send you to hell. Anyway, I wasn't interested in the kind of love I think
she was suggesting. Our short relationship had been, to my mind, a reciprocal
kind of thing, basic anatomy. And besides, I was not ready to even like myself,
let alone love somebody else, not until I figured out what play we were in. I
mean, it wasn't like I was divining this, I mean I had been thrust into the
situation.

I felt myself gagging,
thinking, I wondered if this is the time to get out, spill my guts, tell her
the truth.

Instead I said,
“Peggy, tonight, on the 10:00, when you finish with your singing you need to
intro the….”

“Bastard!” She hissed
the words and threw her cocktail, cherry and all, in my face. Not satisfied,
she poured her glass of water in my lap, forced words through her teeth, “I
said, I love you.”

The senior couple
across the aisle chuckled.

I dipped the corner of
my napkin in my water and, wiping cocktail from my face, thought, I should
excuse myself and leave. But a tree couldn't do that so I lied, “Me too, you.”

She gripped him, said,
“You sure?”

I felt him stir and
thought how dumb that was.

“My my.” She crushed
her cigarette out, put another in her mouth, and waited for me to light her.

Holding Zippo out, my
hand started to shake.

She said, “You okay,
darlin’?”

“Super.” I flicked
Zippo.

She touched her
cigarette to the flame, inhaled, and blew thick white smoke past my face.
“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Nothing. Just happy.”
I swallowed an ice chip and motioned to Rapper. He arrived. I said, “Another
champagne cocktail.”

He looked at wet me
for a long moment.

“With a cherry,” Peggy
said.

“…and I'll have
another Jack, triple, in this glass.”

Rapper left.

She said out of the
blue, “I have a surprise for you, Jack dear.”

I was afraid to ask …
more afraid not to. “What's that?”

“This Friday, after my
ten o'clock weather, we're going to an intimate little private party.”

I lit a new Salem with
old Salem, remembered what Sago Yu had counseled about explosions in my face.
“We are?”

“Yes, my house. Stella
is throwing a premiere party for me. She wanted to have it tonight but, you
know, who wants to have a party on Monday night.” She squeezed him. “We'll have
to leave right after my ten o'clock show. The party is going to start around
nine. I told Stella we would get there around eleven. I figure you go home
early, put on a nice suit, come back to the station, we can have dinner at
Figlios, come back to the studio, I'll do my show, then we'll go to the party.
Even invited my producer from Duke Label, Buddy One Take.”

“There's a problem.”

“What?”

“I don't own a suit.”

“Silly, we'll just fix
that tomorrow, we'll go buy you one.” She pinched my right leg, I think. “And
you know what they're going to do?”

I closed my eyes.

She said, “Stella is
gonna video record my ten o'clock weather show and when we get there she's
gonna play it back. I'm thinking of recording all of the shows, making a CD, TV
Weather Hits. Isn't that exciting?”

I opened my eyes.
“Super. So, who else is invited to the party?”

“Few of our newsroom
people.”

“Our?”

“Oh you know, TV12,
just a few. And some friends from Clip&Snips, few from Music Row.”

Thinking how ‘our’ and
‘we’ cause problems, I said, “Berry gonna be there?”

“Such a worry wart …
of course not. “

Rapper arrived with
fresh drinks and left.

I said, “Say, you
know, do you think Stella can keep our little secret.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I mean Snakebite.”

“Damn it damn it damn
it! I knew it from the beginning. It's been Snakebite that's been bothering ya
from the beginning. I knew it!” She slammed her glass down. Some champagne
sloshed out. “Yer jealous of him, ain't ya, I damn knew it.”

The senior couple
strained in silence.

I tried to soothe her.
“I didn't mean it that way, I just thought, he might be invited and….”

“Well, he's not. Be in
Memphis with that new club, and even if he wer’nt, I wouldn't invite him. This
is a small private party for our news department, darlin’, just us.”

I felt her studying
the scratches on my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

I closed my eyes and
slurped to the back of my eyelids: blame it on time and chance, and I heard
time
and chance had nothing to do with this
. Blame it on Berry. No. You alone
did this, you alone to yourself. Master of “mine” time.

“Jack, you’re lips are
moving again.”

I opened my eyes.
Silence from Peggy, I detected a mood swing. She put her cigarette in a The
Berry Inn cut glass ashtray, laced her fingers together on top of the table,
paused, and stared at the white tablecloth like movie stars do when they're in
deep thought about matters of life and death, going to say something profound, self-revealing,
purge a wicked past, confess wrongs. She said to the backs of her hands: “Jack,
when I … I used to think I wanted to, you know, have a career, singing, show
biz, it was my whole life … I thought, you know, that was everything….” She
paused, picked up her cigarette, tapped it on the ashtray. “But, since I've met
you … oh … damn it, you're on my mind all the time … it's like I can't get
enough of you. I don't even think of that other stuff anymore, oh a little bit,
but not like before. I've never been so satisfied, so full.” She turned my head
to her and looked in my eyes for a long moment. “You see what I'm saying, suga?”

Get off this quick. I
looked away. “We have to go over the way you handled the local stats….”

”I'm talking nuptial,
sweetheart, long term … gold.”

I pinched my thumb.
Yep, still here.

After a dramatic
pause, she made an announcement. “I'm gonna quit singing at Felix The Cat, tell
Snakebite him and my business relationship is over, all together.”

I crushed Salem out
and thought,
I get it
, I did something very bad in another life and this
is like a video they replay, make you watch, until you get it right, but there
is no right, so they step on your neck. I said, “Let's think about that.”

“I don't need to think
about it.” She blew thick white smoke in the air. “And I have another
confession.”

I sipped.

“It's Berry, he's been
… he's been making advances toward me … inviting me up to his office … I'm
going to tell him he better stop or I'll tell you.”

I sipped. “I wouldn't
do that.”

She said, “Don't worry
dear, Berry can't fire us. I know too too much.”

I thought, if she
quits Snakebite, Berry doesn't need her “too much”. In any case, if she tells
Berry she talked to me about any of this, “us” and “our” problems are solved,
as in
pianissimo finis
. Then I realized that nothing, ever, anywhere, is
that simple.