Schultz

17

A Belgravia morning sky bright breezy blue outside. Greta brushing Schultz’s shoulders down as he stood morning suited in front of the mirror adjusting his formal grey tie in the front hall of number four Arabesque Street. And popping on and off his distinctly flattering grey topper. The phone ringing.

“Hello.”

“Jesus you’re a fine one.”

“It’s not you Al.”

“Yeah. Me. Al.”

“Holy christ not now, Al, not now. I’m this second about to go out my door to his Lordship’s wedding.”

“It should be your wedding.”

“Al for christ’s sake, here I am, the day’s sunny, I’m all dressed up in a hurry to take a few minutes off to go to do something that might be a nice experience for a change.”

“So you want a nice experience. Thanks for the one I stepped into where you puked over the whole back of the car and me and my guests had to use a taxi. But never mind that it took a three hundred quid new upholstery job to get rid of the smell.”

“It’s your capitalist way of life, Al, a socialist wouldn’t have to worry about such things.”

“Wise guy you wouldn’t find it so politically funny if it was your automobile.”

“Look Al I’m sorry. Who could control a dinner in my stomach after what I was confronted with in that trap.”

“It was my birthday party.”

“O.K. so let me wish you once more. Happy ninetieth.”

“So help me god Sigmund. They’ve taken Counsel’s opinion. It’s going to be front page paternity proceedings with blood tests. Save anguish. Marry.”

“Save anguish Al. Are you kidding.”

“Sigmund don’t you realize you could end up in a few months being the father of a human being.”

“Al I’m just easing up one inch from last week’s catastrophes to take a peek out of the deepest fucking abyss of my whole life. Sixty thousand pounds I got to find before Tuesday. I’m at everybody’s mercy. Looking for money at this last minute is impossible. Nobody wants to know. I got a theatre now and I ain’t got no show.”

“What do you mean no show.”

“The show is in a shambles. Equity could close me down. Unofficially I’m in rehearsals. While Magillacurdy’s Agent is asking an astronomical salary against a straight ten per cent of the gross, like his client recently sleeping between gravestones, is a West End Hollywood Broadway star already, instead of a discovery.”

“So he’s got a good Agent whom I happen to know.”

“That ain’t all, Al. Everyone hates everybody. Magillacurdy bodily threw the director off the stage into the third row stall seats and broke his collar bone.”

“So. He has an artistic temperament.”

“I’m being sued.”

“So what’s recently new about that.”

“I’ll tell you what’s recently new. The director is the lowest kind of creep, demanding body guards and threatening to slander the show to the newspapers.”

“Why didn’t you ring me when you got these troubles Sigmund.”

“Al I don’t ring you because you bring me more trouble that’s why I don’t ring you.”

“Tell me. What else is bothering you Sigmund.”

“You don’t think that’s enough, which yet is only a fraction.”

“Take it easy. Just tell me.”

“You want to hear about what they did to me over the sets, the costumes, and the designer who thinks he’s El Greco.”

“O.K. O.K. Don’t get hysterical. Look. I’ll tell you. Sigmund do you want to zing mit der dick dick.”

“What the fuck is that Al.”

“It’s like everything going your way.”

“For that at this moment I’ll zing with any fucking dick dick.”

“Then promise to sit down like a civilized person without jumping up to puke over everything.”

“Hey Al I don’t jump up to puke over everything. It’s something like the horrorsville you sucked me into that makes me puke.”

“O.K. O.K. calm down. If you talk to Pricilla I guarantee you Magillacurdy is signed for a nice medium round salary and maybe a per cent or so of the gross.”

“Al it’s got to be less than a medium round salary and no per cent of the gross.”

“What, you expect to get a genius for nothing.”

“No Al. But I’m paying exorbitant rent for the theatre.”

“O.K. you meet Pricilla and it’s no per cent of the gross.”

“Will you guarantee Al that that two ton tarantula is miles away in her fucking web gorging caviar someone else is paying for.”

“You have my word, you won’t see her. Plus I’ll get you sixty thousand.”

“Al don’t joke.”

“I’m not joking. Since when have I ever joked over something I said I was going to do. Tell me.”

“O.K. Al I believe you.”

“So three thirty today alright. Let’s say the lounge of the Dorchester Hotel.”

“Jesus not there Al. Except for the price that place is costing me I still try to go there for peace of mind.”

“The Ritz then, the palm court, under the gold embellishments. Have a nice tea.”

“Thanks a whole bunch. On second thoughts, make it at the Dorchester. I need the peace of mind. So long Al.”

“Wait a second Sigmund.”

“What.”

“I got news.”

“What news.”

“I’m in love.”

“Holy jesus another pair of balls for the guillotine.”

“Don’t say a thing like that. I’m in love. With the most wonderful, the most serene and beautiful creature I have ever met. You will love her too.”

“Al, that’s great, you fuck her for me but meanwhile I’m missing my sunglasses and my chauffeur’s waiting. Goodbye.”

Greta smiling by the door in her yellow gingham dress, a flower in her hair, Schultz’s sunglasses in her outstretched hand as he puts fingers forth petting her under the chin.

“Honey, you know you’ve been a real great help to me. You really have. But soon like tomorrow or the next day you got to find somewhere else to stay. You’re a nice sweet girl. You’re going to meet some nice guy someday to settle down with. Jesus don’t start crying.”

“You no love me just a little bit.”

“Sure. But if you got ears can’t you see what my life is like. Somebody maybe could come again trying to throw you out on the street.”

“Don’t throw me out. No don’t.”

“Jesus kid, stop the tears will you. Here take this. Now you go buy yourself something and see a movie.”

“I love you.”

“Calm down now. That’s a good kid. You shouldn’t get a fixation on just one guy.”

“What is fixation.”

“O Jesus, fixation is, hey I’ll tell you later. I’m gone now.”

Schultz catching a flash reflection of himself in the window of the limousine door. The hired chauffeur pulling it open with a salute and bow.

“Good morning sir, looking very spruce.”

“Well when you don’t feel that way that’s the way to look.”

“I agree sir.”

The door closing a gentle click on Schultz. Sitting back in the sweet soft perfumed unpuked upon upholstery. And holy shit. The Ambassador on his stoop. Dressed for a wedding. And waving grinning out of his black mind at me. Hi ya. Jesus Your Excellency where do you get such constant happiness all over your face from.

By the palace wall and the park, the limousine purring down Constitution Hill. Beneath the mid morning shade of trees. Into the Mall full of sunshine. The town humming. Like everyone who is anyone is heading for his Lordship’s nuptials. And holy shit in the sudden gorgeous few moments rolling along like this, I nearly completely forgot. My invitation to go to the palace. Torn up by that bitch.

Schultz’s car slowing down to a standstill in a long queue. Sound of a loud speaker in the distance.

“Holy christ, driver what’s the hold up.”

“There has to be a clearway left for the Sovereign sir. All traffic is stopped.”

“I’m late, honk your horn.”

“Sir I’m sorry I just can’t do that.”

“Hey isn’t this a democracy.”

“Sir with all due respect, if you’d just look at the people in these cars I think aristocracy would be a better word.”

“Christ, it’s the one guy in the world I really like. I’m not going to miss him getting married. I’m walking. Pick me up on the church stoop later.”

Police on the pavement holding back the crowd watching the resplendent wedding guests in their carloads popping out into a blaze of flash bulbs. Film and television crews adjusting lights and cameras. Oohs and aahs at the arrival of the bride. Schultz shoving his way through onlookers caught suddenly in the surge forward of reporters.

“Jesus christ you guys watch who you’re pushing.”

Ladies clutching hats in the breeze. Police locking arms and holding their backs against the crowd. Schultz buffeted pitching forward to his hands and knees. Grey topper flying off his head and kicked by several feet till a photographer’s foot squashed it. An appreciative chuckle as Schultz shouted.

“Hey Jesus don’t ruin the rented clothes.”

Helped up by hands of wedding guests, Schultz led to safety inside the church door. In the calmer cool Schultz punching his desecrated top hat back into lopsided shape. As a familiar handsome smiling face stepped out of the shadows.

“Schultz, not a pair of shotguns to be seen and still you manage to fall flat on your face.”

“I know Binky, I know. And this topper is the first fucking hat I ever really looked good in.”

“I must say I did at the commotion nip back into the shadows here in case someone thought I knew you.”

“They were trying to stop me coming in, my invitation got torn up in the turmoil of my life.”

“How ever did you get in through the strict security Schultz.”

“You saw me. The guests took me through by the armpits.”

“Schultz, you do amaze me. Here. For your buttonhole. This specially hued carnation from his Royal Grace’s conservatory will identify you as a special friend of the groom’s. But my, but for your little tumble, and your squashed topper, you do look quite splendid.”

“I got blinded by a flash bulb and pushed. The publicity, holy christ, why didn’t you tell me. Some of these people here are legendary. I could have told our publicist to come. The show could use this publicity.”

“It has rather brought a lot of folk crawling out of Debrett and the pages of history but I hardly think Schultz that many of them care to hit showbizz headlines before they crawl back in again.”

“What a fucking waste. Jesus look at this. Not a profile, not a countenance out of place. Except yours truly. Jesus, who’s that, who’s that. What a handsome distinguished looking guy.”

“That is his Royal Grace’s former university tutor.”

“Who’s that. Who’s that.”

“That is a former Conservative Prime Minister.”

“He’s got such impeccable dignity. Hey what are you doing hanging around here at the door. And I thought you and his Lordship were having a joint wedding.”

“In answer to your first question Schultz an armoured security vehicle should appear any moment with the ring and other assorted baubles which I’m ashamed to say as best man and after a rather hectic night, I forgot to bring for his Royal Grace. In answer to your second. Alas my little Lady’s pa the Duke and especially her ma the Duchess, are, at the second thought of my being their son in law, to use one of your own nice little phrases, having kittens and due to their daughter’s tummy now risen quite noticeably we’re to be married in the Duke’s private chapel hidden behind some rhododendrons in their garden.”

“Pregnancy. Don’t remind me. But his Lordship’s bride. She’s a real knockout.”

“Good heavens Schultz, but of course. You didn’t expect his Royal Grace, after his exhausting years of searching, to move an unlikely filly into his stables. She is also Schultz, along with her stunning eyes, lilting voice, and creamy complexion, a vivacious conversationalist.”

“I can’t wait to talk to her.”

“And when you do Schultz, you will find her witty, compassionate and understanding.”

“What else for christ’s sake.”

“Good bone, strong quarters, nice shoulder, perfect gaskins. In short an ample but thoroughbred figure. Works on behalf of many charities and is dedicated to a multitude of good causes. She is often to be seen serene at public functions and ceremonies. She has been to his Royal Grace a ministering angel in his recent dark hours suffering from swollen tonsils and toothache. She can illuminate hope in any man’s blackest despair. She has wisdom and poise. She bears tragedy with an iron constancy.”

“Holy shit stop Binky. Before I collapse in envy. Tell me something wrong with her.”

“In one of her occasional but violent bursts of temper, she pushed his Royal Grace fully clothed into a chilled tub of bath water while expressing one of her strongly held opinions which his Royal Grace was at the time disputing.”

“God you fuckers, you end up with everything I’m dying to find in a woman, like consideration instead of cunning, discretion instead of deceit, like backbone instead of bitching.”

“Ah Schultz, you’re such a romantic, but you must now excuse me as I see his Royal Grace’s baubles have arrived.”

Amid the marble statues and memorials, grey coated ushers in a rush at the appearance of two foreign reigning sovereigns. Escorting them between the phalanxes of dignitaries from Church and State, from the military and industry. Vestments of Bishops and Archbishops on the altar. Red, blues and greens glowing high in the stained glass windows. The nearby massive booming bell of Big Ben. Throbbing chords of organ music. Voices of the choir. The Abbey echoing. Ladies heads turning with their hats of yellows, purples, pinks and creams. Perfumes, incense, rustling dresses. Jesus the elegance is crippling. Everywhere you look. Why wasn’t I born with relations and friends like this all so fucking polite and good looking. Wearing clothes and high quality leather goods you couldn’t find within ten miles of my parents’ store. The diamonds alone would make Uncle Werb have an apoplectic fit of envy that he didn’t have the mark up on the gems. What marvellous singing. The whole church shaking. Here they come, gold braid all over her father. Holy christ she’s even more gorgeous than Binky says. Giving me, all the way from nowhere, a fucking erection right in this pew. For the first time I know what my mother meant when she said I was too good to play with anybody else on my block.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of god, and in the face of this congregation.”

Stifled coughs erupting in the hush. A child’s voice. I must I must nanny, do wee wee. Holy shit, down to earth human nature has intruded at last. Binky with all these important people around looks like he’s up there shaking with laughter or nervousness. Who wouldn’t be, watching his Lordship get tied up like this. After all the time they’ve been wantonly satisfying carnal lusts and appetites like brute beasts in Sperm Productions, they then, just like magic go get spliced to creatures of quality.

“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed that if either of you know any impediment.”

The echoing vowels of the grey headed bishop. The figures before him. Wow is he kidding, I ask you, who could find an impediment. Jesus the difference between people in this world. In the early struggling days of my father’s first store a customer came in near closing time after a whole day of hardly any turnover and between my mother and father tearing her to bits between them reducing the price to sell her something the woman could hardly escape she was having so many bargains pushed in her face.

“Basil, Andrew, George, Albert wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife.”

The voice resonating in all this ancient history. A child whimpering. Jesus. I love the words. Wilt thou obey, serve, love, honor, keep him in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him. Just like having a stray au pair at your mercy. His Lordship real close now. Wilt thou, Violet, Elizabeth, Alexandra, Felicia take thee, Basil, Andrew, George, Albert, to thy wedded husband, for good times and better times, for richer or millions, for healthier holidays, castles and estates. Any second now. With this ring I thee wed. And it’s curtains. With all my endless goods I thee smother. In the name of his Lordship’s forests, railroads, ranches, mines, distilleries, amen. Jesus what women won’t do to get up that fucking aisle. They’ll even sacrifice the man they love.

“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

The organ thundering. The choir in full voice bellowing. This moment I can’t forget for the rest of my life. It’s just too beautiful. Makes me want to cry. The new radiant Countess beaming. Coming along the aisle. Marching out on his Lordship’s arm. Whispering nodding little hellos to the smiling faces in the rows of pews.

Schultz on the aisle. Giving the pale as a ghost bridegroom the Woonsocket hi sign and then promptly tripping over an armorial emblazoned kneeling pad to stumble out of the pew altogether. Bumping into a naval suited disembarking reigning foreign sovereign. Who politely sidestepped as an immediate small commotion was triggered off among security personnel at the back of the Abbey. Binky’s face slightly blue with bottled up laughter turning to look back.

In the sunlight and blaze of cameras the newlyweds stood on the Abbey step. The bridge ecstatic and the groom stretching his neck in his collar frowning at requests from photographers to smile.

In a snug courtyard environ of St. James’s another cavalcade of cars disgorging. Schultz ducking out of his limousine, hopped up the steps to jerk thumbs at his carnation as the major domo stepped to intervene.

“Invitation sir.”

“It was destroyed. My carnation is the password.”

“Sorry sir.”

“Hey I got a right to go in there.”

“Sorry sir. Other guests are waiting. Step aside please.”

“Like hell I will.”

Schultz striding forth into the massive marble interior festooned with flowers. The gleamingly smooth staircase balustrade ahead between which guests slowly ascend. Schultz bounding up three steps at a time towards the din of voices. The blue uniformed beribboned commissionaire above on the landing. Jesus my name is going to be announced.

“Excuse me fella, you don’t mind if I just squeeze by incognito.”

“Sorry sir. I must announce you.”

“Whisper will you. Sigmund Schultz is the name.”

“I know who you are sir.”

“You do.”

“You’re Mr. Schultz, the well known impresario.”

With a gentle ushering by the elbow and friendly nod from the commissionaire, Schultz steered into the receiving line. Waiting behind a monocled Field Marshal who looked around once like I was trying to steal a decoration off his chest. Jesus but what a relief somebody at last knows who the fuck I am out of this fucking collection of big shots. No sign of his Lordship. Gloved hands held out. One lemony smile after another. The bride’s highly fuckable mother with a lorgnette, yet. And her lemony smile.

“How do you do Mr. Schultz.”

“Hi.”

“So glad you could come.”

Into the crescendo beneath this vast gold embellished ceiling. Wandering past the talkative little groups. Massive portraits around the walls. Whiffs of perfume. Clink of glass. Cutlery clonking on plates. High pitched vowels everywhere. Eyes looking down their noses. And Jesus christ right now the side view of my face is more than ever out of place. With not a single soul I can talk to. My god. Except that.

Schultz stopping stunned and transfixed. Through a gap between two naval uniforms, stood an awe inspiring tall tanned silken limbed ash blond female. Her fruity body engloved in a raw silk orange dress. Holy cow, now that is exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life.

Schultz giving his lapels a quick brush down with his fingers, straightening his shoulders and moving towards the lady. Just as four dark suited security men increased their speed and quietly closed in behind him with a tap on the shoulder.

“Sir if you wouldn’t mind coming with us.”

“Holy shit when is somebody going to leave me alone for christ’s sake.”

“Now come along quietly now please sir.”

Schultz, flanked by two broad shouldered gentlemen, was led by another and nudged from the rear by a fourth gent and guided through the babbling assembly towards a distant door in a distant wall.

“Hey come on, don’t for christ’s sake exasperate me.”

“Quietly now please sir, we must warn you. One false move and you will be shot.”

“Shot. Hey come on. This is a joke.”

“Quietly sir. No joke. This way now.”

“What, are you trying to throw me out. Look at the colour of my carnation for christ’s sake.”

“I’m afraid sir, the colour of your carnation is a deeply suspicious shade. And we would appreciate your helping us, sir, with the making of our further enquiries.”

“Enquire for christ’s sake right here, I’m not moving another fucking inch.”

The bride in white silk, her veil held under a diamond and pearl tiara, stood a mere ten paces away, her hand to lips, as Schultz, wrenching his arm free from one dark suited detective, bolted. Knocking a high ranking clergyman’s champagne splashing on his black toggery, as a security guard made a grab. Only to rip open Schultz’s tailcoat seam down the back as he spun around loose in a move practised from previous unwanted apprehensions.

“I say there, stop sir, stop.”

Schultz sailing through a group of pages and bridesmaids and across an open space on the parquet. Chased by the detective who’d taken up the rear of the proceedings and who now flung himself in a horizontal rugby tackle to hit Schultz from behind just below the knees. Both engripped bodies flying face first across the polished floor amid the oooing and ahhhing of the rapidly space making guests. Schultz’s head coming to rest face up between the feet of a tall languid pink Chantilly lace encrusted lady lifting her lorgnette and eyebrows, staring down.

“Dear me, the incredible cheek of gatecrashers these days. It does make one yearn. Doesn’t it. For previous and more decent times.”

Madam

I couldn’t

Agree with you

Fucking more