Fresh Disasters

13

Stone had been sipping bourbon at Elaine’s for ten minutes when Celia Cox swept into the place. She was wearing a long wool coat, which was open at the front, to reveal a short silk dress that displayed an acre of cleavage and miles of leg. The sound of heads swiveling and eyeballs snapping could be heard in the sudden silence, which lasted for about a second and a half before the hubbub resumed.

Stone rose to greet her, but not far enough. She was wearing four-inch heels, which made her tall enough to play in the NBA game on the TV. He stood on his tiptoes, kissed her on the cheek and took her coat.

“Where’s the ladies’?” she asked.

Stone pointed to the rear door. “Turn right there, then it’s the second door on your left.”

“Be right back.”

Stone sat down to applause from a bunch of guys a couple of tables down. He tried not to blush.

Dino walked in and took his usual seat. “So, where’s the broad?”

“In the ladies’,” Stone said. “Remember, you get one drink, then you vanish in a puff of smoke.” He was looking forward to this introduction.

“Sure, sure.” Dino’s Scotch arrived. He took a sip and spat.

“It’s the Great Scot,” Stone said. “I ordered it special for you, so you would get the message.” He signaled to a waiter, who brought Dino’s usual Johnnie Walker Black and removed the offending glass.

“That was a shitty thing to do to a guy,” Dino said, swishing the Johnnie Black around in his mouth to dissolve the last remnants of the Great Scot.

Celia returned from the ladies’ and Stone and Dino stood. “Celia Cox, Dino Bacchetti, an old friend.”

She reached down to shake his hand. Dino came up exactly to her nipples. “How do you do?” she asked, amused.

“Hello,” Dino managed, awestruck.

“Dino’s joining us for just this one drink,” Stone said.

“Oh, what a shame,” Celia said. “Can’t you stay for dinner, Dino?”

“Well, I…”

Stone kicked him under the table.

Dino winced. “I’m meeting somebody, business.”

“What a pity.”

“Isn’t it,” Stone said, unable not to smile. “What would you like to drink?” he asked Celia.

“Do they have any decent bourbon in this joint?” she asked sweetly.

“Waiter, bring the lady a Knob Creek. On the rocks?”

“Perfect,” she said.

“So nice to meet a woman who drinks bourbon,” Stone said.

“I’m a southern girl from a small town in Georgia called Delano, where they consider Scotch un-American.”

Menus arrived. “Only two,” Stone said to the waiter. “Dino has to be someplace.”

“I think that’s my cue to scram,” Dino said, rising. “So nice to meet you, Celia. I hope to see a lot more of you.”

“That’s my line,” Stone said. “Good night, Dino.”

The waiter escorted Dino to another table and held the chair for him.

“You were rude to your friend,” Celia said.

“We do that a lot,” Stone replied, “but only because I didn’t want to share you.”

“Thank you for not saying there’s enough of me to go around; I’ve heard all the tall jokes.”

Elaine came over and sat down, and Stone introduced the two women. “You’re taller sitting down than I am standing up,” Elaine said.

Celia laughed. “I take it back, Stone, I hadn’t heard that one.”

Elaine peered at Celia’s glass. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

“Bourbon,” Celia replied.

Elaine spotted a friend coming into the restaurant and stood up. “I’ll look forward to the wedding invitation,” she said. “Stone has found his dream girl.”

Celia laughed again, a pleasing sight and sound. “So,” she said, “go ahead and ask me how I became a masseuse.”

“I’m sure you have the answer ready,” Stone said.

“It was the only way I could earn two hundred dollars an hour without turning tricks. And I’m too smart to be a Las Vegas showgirl.”

“Perfect answer,” Stone said.

“The truth is, I lived in Santa Fe for a while, and they have a lot of massage schools. I had to find something more financially rewarding than waiting tables, so I took the training.”

“And the training took.”

“So you’re a lawyer? Why?”

“It was the only way I could earn five hundred dollars an hour without turning tricks. And I’m too smart to be a cop, which is what I used to be before I got so smart. Dino was my partner in those days.”

“Did you ever hear anything from Marilyn?”

“No, but I had lunch with Bernard Finger today, if you can call watching him slurp down a dozen oysters and hearing a stupid proposal for a settlement lunch.”

“He’s kind of gross, isn’t he?”

“I think that sums him up very well.”

“I met him once when he came to pick up Marilyn at the day spa. He’s been very generous, though; he bought her that apartment. You know the skinny modern building on Park Avenue in the sixties?”

“The one with one apartment per floor?”

“Yes. He bought her the penthouse in that building.”

“What do you want to bet the deed is in Bernie’s name?”

“I wouldn’t take that bet, and Marilyn isn’t smart enough to insist on having it in her name. He tells her they’re going to be married as soon as he can get a divorce.”

“I’ll bet he tells her that.”

She laughed. “Marilyn says he loves to make love out on their terrace.”

“Right out in the open?”

“Yes, and there are taller buildings all around them.”

“Then they must enjoy exhibitionism.”

“I guess. I’m hungry.”

“What would you like?”

“You made me think of oysters,” she said.

“It’ll be more fun watching you eat them than watching Bernie.” They ordered.

Two hours later they stood on the curb, looking for a taxi.

“Can I tempt you back to my house?”

“I’ve already seen your etchings,” she said, “along with everything else. It’ll have to wait until next time.”

“Is tomorrow too soon for next time?”

“Yes. Call me and we’ll figure it out.” A cab stopped.

“I’ll drop you at home,” Stone said.

“That would be inconvenient,” she said, getting into the cab.

“Where do you live?” Stone asked, but she had already closed the door, and the cab was moving.

Stone watched her drive away, regretting her reluctance to come home with him. He’d have to work on that.