Everybody's Fool

Rub’s Penis

DURING THE LONG SECOND ACT of Sully’s life, he’d made it a point not only to be present for last call most nights but also to go on record as objecting to the concept as arbitrary and puritanical. These days, however, his third act well under way, though his core belief hadn’t changed, his behavior had. At seventy, in what at least his doctors believed to be terminally failing health, Sully had reluctantly come to suspect that misbehavior was a younger man’s sport. He’d played it longer than most, though, and tonight, thanks to Ruth’s heartfelt permission to stay away from Hattie’s for a while and the fact that his breathing had inexplicably improved as the day progressed, he fell gratefully and effortlessly back into the routine that had suited him so well for so long. As the thunderstorms rolled through, dimming lights and flinging rain at the walls outside, Sully reflected, and not for the first time, that there was no better place to be during violent weather than on a barstool. In any weather, for that matter.

The Horse remained lively until close to midnight, when the last of the storms headed north and word started to circulate that the power was back on in town. People began to drift out into the (finally!) cool night, leaving behind Birdie and Sully and Jocko and the Rubs. When Janey finished her shift Sully offered to buy her a drink, but she just looked at him like he was insane. What the fuck was this? Like maybe he was hoping to take up with her, now that her mother wasn’t interested anymore? Nothing could have been further from Sully’s mind, but her instinct was probably right. How would it have looked if she accepted his offer of a drink and settled onto the stool next to him? Besides, Rub wasn’t done with his litany of wishes yet. Having spent his afternoon in a tree, he seemed even needier than usual, if that was possible, so Sully let him get it all out of his system.

Half an hour before last call Carl Roebuck strolled in with a very drunk young woman roughly Janey’s age on his arm. She was exactly the sort Carl always seemed to attract: dim-witted or pretending to be, large breasted, oversexed. “Let’s play poker,” he suggested, taking out his wallet and counting the bills therein. “Ninety-eight dollars,” he said, slapping them on the bar. “And not just any ninety-eight dollars. My last ninety-eight dollars in the world.”

“Show of hands,” Sully said. “Who here feels sorry for Carl?”

“Let this be a lesson to you,” Carl told his companion, when she alone raised her hand. “This is the wrong fucking place to come if you’re looking for sympathy.”

“On the other hand,” Birdie said, handing him his usual Maker’s, “if you’re looking for alcohol…”

Apparently in response to the poker game idea, the young woman stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, all too audibly, “I thought you said you were going to take me home and fuck me.”

Birdie snorted at this. “You must be from out of town,” she said.

“Later,” Carl whispered back. Then, to Birdie, “Say hello to Jennifer, who’d like a Cuba libre, that is, if you can stop making fun of other people’s tribulations long enough to make her one. As you deduced, Jennifer here hails from Lake George and is not fully cognizant of certain extremely personal matters.”

Jennifer scrunched her shoulders. “I love the way he talks,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” Birdie said, pouring rum over ice.

Rub, as he always did with Carl’s girlfriends, commenced staring at Jennifer’s chest, his expression identical to the one he always wore when contemplating big ole bacon cheeseburgers. Seeing she had his undivided attention, Jennifer extended her hand in greeting. “Hi!” she said. “What’s your name?”

Rub normally didn’t have much trouble with his R’s, but he did now. Embarrassed by his stammer, Jennifer quickly turned her attention to the other Rub. “Oh, look!” she squealed. “A puppy! Isn’t he cute?”

“Would you like to have him?” Sully said.

Jennifer seemed to regard this as a joke. “What’s his name?”

“Rub,” Sully said, causing her to blink at the man she’d just met. Had there been some misunderstanding? He and the dog had the same name? If she asked the name of the tall man in the pharmacist’s smock, would it, too, be Rub? What kind of place was this?

When Rub, excited to hear his name, stood up and wagged his whole hind end, Jennifer took a quick step back, visibly alarmed by his bloody erection. “What’s wrong with Rub’s penis?” she wanted to know, causing the other Rub to blush deeply.

“He chews on it,” Sully explained.

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Nights like this,” said Jocko as they filed into the back room, “I feel the need of a one-legged lawyer.” Sully had been thinking the same thing, and together they raised their glasses in the direction of Wirf’s prosthesis, which since his death had occupied the place of honor on the mantel. They took their seats around the poker table, Rub careful as always to sit next to Sully. Jocko located the chips and assumed the role of banker, Carl being too dishonest, Sully too careless. The dog circled around several times, sighed, curled up at the base of his master’s chair and returned to gnawing.

“How would you like to own half a construction company?” Carl asked Sully.

“That would depend on who owns the other half.”

“Assume it’s your best friend in the world.”

Sully elbowed Rub, who’d gone back to staring at Jennifer’s boobs. “Hey, Dummy. Do you own a construction company?”

Carl ignored this while Rub beamed. “Assume this best friend isn’t going to be able to make payroll next week. Assume that wall collapsing this afternoon was the last fucking nail in his coffin. Assume he’s about to be sued by everyone from the mill’s investors to the town of Bath to the asshole ex-con who happened to be driving by at the exact wrong moment.”

Carl of course was always claiming imminent financial ruin, but could it possibly be true this time, Sully wondered. “Let’s assume instead,” he suggested, “that everybody but you saw this day coming for a long time. Assume the friend you now want to be your partner has been warning you about it for the last fucking decade.”

“Assume,” Carl replied, “that this friend’s an asshole for picking this particular moment to say I told you so.”

“Assume this same friend’s a fucking prince for not bringing up the fact that you’re six months behind on your rent.”

Jennifer was taking all this in with growing alarm. “Are you two having a fight?”

“Not really,” Sully told her. “I am going to take his last hundred bucks, though.”

“He would, too, if I’d let him,” Carl agreed.

“High card deals,” said Jocko, setting the deck down in the middle of the table.

“That would be me,” Sully said, leaning forward to turn over the ace of spades.

Carl sighed. “Fuck me,” he said.

And Sully, feeling as you sometimes do when the world aligns in your favor, proceeded to do just that.