Pagan Babies

16

CARLO SAW THE BLACK LEATHER jacket sliding into Booth Number One, looked past to the reservations stand where Heidi should be-no Heidi, nobody-and got to the booth as fast as he could make his way through the tables.

"Sir, I'm very sorry but this booth is reserved."

The one in leather, his hair pulled back severely into a ponytail, said, "That's right, garson, I reserved it."

"Sir, I know the party-"

"What's the name?"

"I know them personally, they come here--"

"It's after ten. Don't look like they're gonna show."

"Sir, I'm very sorry, but you must have a reservation. Fortunately I can seat you, if you would come this way."

"No, this works for me," the one in leather said. "Don't worry about it." Now he looked up, his face becoming more pleasant. "And here's the rest of my party."

Carlo turned to see a young lady in an inexpensive raincoat and a priest. A priest? Yes, helping her off with the coat and Carlo was confused; he couldn't see this one in the booth in the company of a priest.

He said, "Father, how are you this evening? I'm afraid we have a misunderstanding about the table."

The priest said, "No, it's fine," handing him the raincoat. "Check this for us, would you, please?" He turned to the table where the young lady in her plain black sweater and skirt was already sliding in.

Carlo said, "Wait, please," wanting to ask, Who are you people?

Now she was seated and he turned again to the priest, who seemed patient, reasonable, and said to him, "Father, I'm very sorry to tell you this booth is reserved for another party," Carlo sounding disappointed.

"I wish with all my heart I could say yes, please, stay here.

But I cannot. I have a table over there-you see it?-and a very nice one closer to the music. You can listen and enjoy as you dine." He heard the one in leather call it "elevator music," and the young lady, looking around, say, "It's cooler than I thought it would be. Fran's fulla shit, it doesn't look like a men's club." The leather one said a friend had told him there were ice cubes in the urinals, and the young lady said "Doesn't that make the drinks taste funny?" Carlo heard the priest say, "You sure you want to stay here?" The leather one answered him, "We're here, okay? And we're fuckin staying here." He said, "She wants to piss off the management." Then looked up to say,

"Garson, you want to get us some drinks?" Carlo thinking, No, get the Mutt. But then heard the young lady say, "I just want to see how Randy handles it," and Carlo began to think their sitting here had a purpose.

He said, "Excuse me, please," and left.

Debbie said to Johnny Pajonny, "How do you know his name's Garson?"

Terry said, "He means garcon."

Carlo came along the back hall past the rest rooms to Heidi from behind, Heidi standing in the doorway to Randy's office. He said to her, "Dear, would you mind going back to work?"

"Would you mind," Heidi said, turning, moving past him, "if I went to the little girls' room once in a while?" This big blonde, confident, able to turn it around because she would sleep with Randy when he wanted her.

Randy was reading a newspaper open on his desk. He looked up at Carlo. "The trial is in recess till next week on account of Tony Amilia's prostate. It says he appears, though, to be in good health"-Randy looked down at the paper again-"and is 'the best dressed of the defendants, always in a business suit and tie. The others on trial often wear jogging suits and sneakers.' Classy old guy with a d6class6 outfit," Randy said, looking up again. "I am no longer gonna worry about those punks. Bunch of losers. What's the problem?"

"People have sat down at Number One and won't get up. I tell them it's reserved, they don't move."

"In what name?"

"Mr. Moraco, for four."

"What time?"

"Ten o'clock."

"Tell Mr. Moraco you had to give up his table because he's late. If he complains, tell him tough shit."

"Can I quote you saying it?"

"Tell him anything you want."

"I think the ones sitting there know you. One is a priest."

"I don't know any priests."

"The other one says the young lady with them wants to piss off the management. But she says oh no. She says, 'I just want to see how Randy handles it.'"

"That doesn't mean anything. What's she look like?"

Carlo shrugged. "Cute, but common. Probably a very nice young lady."

"Then why would I know her?"

"What do I do, please, when Mr. Moraco comes?"

"Let him work it out."

"I mentioned the one is a priest?"

"Carlo, if you can't do your job"

"Yes?"

"Look. If Moraco wants them to move to another table, they'll move to another table. What's the problem?"

Cindy, who worked the first booth and didn't care who sat in it, brought menus and served their drinks, Johnny swigging his beer out of the bottle now as they studied the caricatures of famous native Detroiters, Debbie spotting them, Johnny questioning, Terry biding his time.

"Sonny Bono."

"You sure?"

"Who else looks like that? There's Lily Tomlin, Tom Selleck in the Tigers baseball cap. The girl next to him is… Pam Dawber."

"It's Marlo Thomas. I know she's from Detroit."

"It's still Pam Dawber. Mork Mindy, I never missed it, I wanted to look just like her."

"You didn't come close," Johnny said. "There's-Jesus Christ, is that Ed McMahon? He's from here?"

"I see Diana Ross," Debbie said, "Smokey Robinson… Michael Modarty-I loved him on Law amp; Order. And there's, my God, Wally Cox."

"The one next to him," Terry said, getting into it, "you know who that is? Seymour Cassel."

"Who the fuck's Seymour Cassel?"

"He's good, he was in… something about a Chinese bookie.

Okay, and the one next to him you should know. David Patrick Kelly."

"Never heard of him."

"Pat Kelly, he was three years ahead of us at Bishop Gallagher. He was in that movie with Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy, 48HRS."

"Which one was Kelly?"

"Guy's running down the street, Eddie Murphy opens the car door and knocks him on his ass? That one."

"Look," Debbie said, "sitting at the bar, Bill Bonds."

"The anchorman? That's not his hair," Johnny said.

"Anyone who watches TV knows that."

"I mean that's not the rug he always wears."

Debbie called the maitre d' over and asked him. Carlo looked toward the bar. He said, "Yes, Mr. Bonds and his wife. They come here often."

"He's drinking?"

"Only Perrier."

Right after that Johnny spotted Ted Nugent's picture on the wall.

"I know it's him, 'cause there's a hack in Four East looks just like him."

Debbie said, "Were the hacks at Jackson stupid?"

"You gotta be stupid to be one, don't you?"

"Where I was they'd never get the count right the first time.

Never."

"I know what you mean, you can stand there all day while they do their recounts."

Terry said, "Isn't that Alice Cooper?"

They went right on talking.

"You had women guards, didn't you?"

"Some, mostly men."

"They hit on you?"

"I didn't have any trouble. But it was going on, yeah, some of the girls doing it for favors, preferential treatment."

Johnny said, "There's one over at the bar, the redhead? I wouldn't mind her doing me a favor."

"If you like whores," Debbie said.

"Come on-"

"Go ask her."

Johnny looked past Debbie to Terry. "You think she's a whoer?"

Debbie said, "What're you asking a priest for? How would he know?"

"Well, how do you know?"

"I heard there were call girls here, and that redhead is my idea of a chick who does it for money."

Johnny said, "I'm gonna go check."

They watched him walk over to the bar buttoning his jacket, touching the collar to make sure it was up and his ponytail hooked over it. They saw the woman turn as he reached her and cock her head to one side to adjust her earring. They saw Johnny ready to take the empty stool next to her. The woman said something to him and now Johnny was talking, gesturing, laying his hand on her shoulder.

They saw the guy with the crew cut coming along the bar.

They watched him walk up to Johnny-both about the same height, but Johnny lacking the guy's solid build and say something to him. Johnny shrugged, gestured with his hands, nodded as he looked this way, toward the booth.

Debbie said, "What's he doing, inviting them over?"

No, Johnny was coming back alone. Sliding into the booth he said,

"That bouncer, he walks up, he goes, 'Angie, this guy bothering you?'

She says to me, 'This is my husband,' the fuckin bouncer. You believe it?"

Debbie was still looking at the redhead and the guy with the crew cut. "He's her pimp, you dummy."

Now Johnny was looking over. "Oh, he is? You ever see a pimp dresses like that?"

"What'd you say to him?"

"I told him I was with a priest, so he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

The guy has scar tissue up here, over his eyes."

Terry said, "He must've got hit a lot."

Now Debbie was asking Johnny about the green outfit the girl at the bar was wearing and what her earrings were like. Terry's gaze wandered off…

Came to a man who reminded him of his uncle and saw Tibor sitting there in a checked sport coat, a young lady with him, their waiter pouring red wine. No, it wasn't Tibor. Tibor's drink was bourbon, Early Times, managing somehow to buy it or have it shipped to him, Kentucky bourbon in Rwanda, and always had a supply. Tibor would sip it through crushed ice packed in the glass, a little sugar sprinkled on top. For his sweet tooth, because he couldn't find chocolate candy that he liked. A half-dozen bottles left when he died. Early Times in a wooden case with words in Kinyarwanda stenciled on the side.

Terry drank three of the bottles during the first year, different times when he ran out of Johnnie Walker and didn't feel like driving all the way to Kigali. Bourbon was okay, it did the job. But Johnnie Walker red was his favorite because he admired the look of the square bottle with its smooth, rounded edges and neat red label, seeing it as a work of art sitting on the old wooden table, a warm, amber glow in the last light of day. The black label, more expensive, looked almost as good.

There was a bottle in the kitchen, up in a cupboard, saved for a special occasion that never came. He would bet anything Chantelle had sold the leftover fifths of Early Times by now. Unless she tried the whiskey and liked it. She would weave when she was high, walking to the house, but still with grace, her hips moving in the t, agne that fell to her ankles. Her voice would change, too, become higher and inquiring, a hint of irritation asking him to explain what she didn't understand.

And in the dark under the netting she would rest her stump on his chest and he would cover it with his hand.

Johnny had his hand in the air to bring the Maitre d' over.

"Yes?"

"You see what time it is? Going on eleven."

Carlo waited.

"Where're these people suppose to have a reservation?"

"When they come in," Carlo said, "you will be the first to know."

Debbie said, "We'd like another round and we'll order."

"Of course."

"Wait. Is Randy here?"

Carlo turned, looked over the room and came back to them. "I don't believe so. You wish to speak to him?"

"Maybe," Debbie said, "I'm not sure."

"May I give Mr. Agley your name?"

"You just said he isn't here."

"So I can tell him when he comes."

Johnny said, "Tell him Fr. Dunn wants to hear his confession."

Debbie shook her head. "I'll let you know." Carlo walked off and she put her hand on Terry's arm. "I was thinking I might talk to him first, before we get into it with him. You know, see what he's like now."

"What was the last thing he said to you, 'Don't fuck with me'?"

"'Don't fuck with me, kid.' That was the second to last thing he said. His last words were 'You're not in my league.' But," Debbie said, "maybe he's changed. You know, now that he's got what he wants."

Terry said, "You told me he's a gangster now."

"Shit. I forgot. But he did like me, I know that. We had a pretty good time, at least at first."

"I bet he's here," Terry said. "You want to see him, go ahead."

She said, "Yeah, I'm gonna do it," and nudged Johnny with her elbow.

"Move, so I can get out." She said to Terry, "If the waitress comes I'll have the bluepoints, a house salad, the Coho salmon in the paper bag and another Stoli. I'll see you."

Johnny slipped back into the booth, picked up his menu and said,

"I'm gonna start with the jumbo shrimp cocktail. I like surf and turf but I don't see it here."

Cindy came by to take their orders and he asked her about it, how come no surf and turf? She said, "Sir, you can have anything you want."

"And you'll charge me anything you want, huh?"

Terry waited while they went around and around on what Johnny might like put together. When his turn came Terry gave her Debbie's order and said, "I'll have the same," keeping it simple, "but instead of the Johnnie Walker, lemme have a double bourbon this time over crushed ice. Early Times, if you have it."