The Knowland Retribution

St. John

“Five hits by the Harptones,” Ike crowed as Walter walked into Billy’s. “Billy don’t know no more than three.” He laughed through his big lemon teeth. Smoke came out of his nostrils.

“‘Sunday Kind of Love,’ ‘My Memories of You,’ ‘The Masquerade Is Over.’ I can’t remember no more,” said Billy.

“Walter?” asked Ike.

“The Harptones are okay,” said Billy, eager to put the subject behind them. “But they ain’t the best. Not even close.”

“I agree with that,’” said Walter.

“Five of ’em. Can you?” Ike persisted, now apparently blowing smoke through every bodily orifice. Walter admitted his bankruptcy with a shrug. Ike took on Billy, “Who you think’s better?”

“The Paragons,” Billy said. “I’ll take them on ‘Florence’ alone.”

“I heard that,” said Ike. “You may have got me there.” He threw his head back and launched a mangled falsetto, “ Fah-lah-ho-rance-hoooo weeee…”

Billy turned to Walter at the end of the bar. “What beats ‘Florence’? Nothing does. Even Ike knows that.”

He put Walter’s usual beverage on a new Billy’s coaster. But he kept his thin, white fingers around the bottle. Walter had to speak up for his drink.

“‘Gloria,’” Walter said.

“The Cadillacs,” Ike nodded his approval, and his tortured falsetto took off again, “Glaw-haw-ree-ha oh oh-it’s not Mah-ree-hee-hee-Glaw-haw-ree-ha-it’s not Sher-ee-hee.”

“The best,” said Walter. “You ever have a girlfriend named Gloria?”

Billy shook his head.

“Me neither,” said Ike in a very soft, strained voice. He knew the name of Walter’s ex-wife.

“I did once,” Walter said. “I think of her when I hear that song. It’s been a long time. But even that brought it back.” He raised his bottle to Ike in salute.

Ike said, “You know Enchantment?”

Billy said, “I know the word, but you mean something else?”

Ike lit another cigarette. “The group Enchantment. One of them one-hit groups. They did a cover of ‘Gloria’ in, I don’t know, mid-eighties. Damn good too.”

“Enchantment,” said Billy. “You want me to write it down?”

Walter said, “Write down Cadillacs and also Paragons. Ike, you still need to give us one. Just one.” The old man mulled it over. Walter sipped contentedly. Ike chuckled and dragged on the evil stick he was smoking. “Close as you boys are to me, I feel better the closer you are. Gentlemen, I offer you The Channels.” Billy picked up the chalk and wrote it all down: Cadillacs/Paragons/Channels. All three of them took special pleasure watching Billy’s regulars, as well as the tourists, mull over their choices and cast their votes. The delight was all the greater since nobody had any idea why they were voting at all. Someone would yell out their selection and Billy dutifully lifted his chalk and made a slash mark beneath it.

“The Channels,” said Ike. “That’s nice. Very, very nice.”