The Ultimate Good Luck

28

TWO MEN HAD BEGUN dismantling a Willys in the street at 2:00 A.M. One stood while the other pried at the fenders with an iron bar, like a cow being skinned, then the duties were reversed. There was no reason for it Quinn could see, but they were making a big racket in the street. A blue bus sat in front of the government palacio, a black 8 painted on its roof. A pair of the white puttee soldiers stood in the zócalo watching the men peeling metal off the jeep, though after a time they wandered away into the shadows of the Portal and became invisible. The rain had quit and water had collected on the concrete promenades, and crows were asleep in the jacarandas. He sat at the window and watched the Centro for any activity he could feature as significant, but there wasn’t any. He had taken too many pills now and he felt dead inside.

He had checked at the administración for a call from the consulate, but there had been none. He had gone back to the room, undressed, and gotten in the shower to wash the garbage off his arms, and for a long time he stood in the warm water and trembled until the water overcame the cold feeling and until he thought the worst of it was over. It was soldier shakes, and they always went away.

Rae had sat on the bed and watched while he buttoned his shirt in the white light. She had a pint of Cuervo Gold on the bed beside her. When he finished she said, “Where’s your gun?” and looked at him distantly.

“It’s gone,” he said.

“Did you shoot somebody with it?” she said.

“Everybody,” he said.

“What’s about to happen?” she said.

He pulled the chair to the window and sat looking out at the zócalo bathed in the greenish rain light. “Nothing,” he said. “We have to leave.” He opened the tequila and took a drink. There wasn’t much left.

“What about the police?” she said.

“They’re not coming.”

“Aren’t we in trouble?”

“We’re not in anything. We’re just getting out of here tomorrow,” he said. The rain had slacked, and he watched the streets around the zócalo for police vehicles.

“What about the consulate?” Rae said.

“They didn’t call,” he said. “We’re out of time.”

Rae’s face was pale as though she had cried a long time and couldn’t do it any more. “Did she kill Bernhardt?”

“They wanted the bucks,” Quinn said. “They thought he’d get it first. That was all. So yeah.” He had the same feeling of falling again, of being high up alone, trying to look down but not succeeding. He knew in a little while that would stop, like the scared shakes stopped.

“That’s not all,” Rae said calmly. “He ditched her, didn’t he?” She paused. “Do you not want to talk to me about that?”

“Not very much,” he said.

She lay on the bedspread and closed her eyes. “You’re not to feel bad, though,” she said. “I know how people get in trouble now.”

“Bad luck,” he said.

“No. It’s bad character. It’s very simple,” Rae said. “But there’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried. But I’m really sorry.”

At four o’clock it was still dark. The air was misty before light. The marginales who had been dismantling the Willys had left with metal pieces tied together with strings. Rae was asleep on the bedspread. His clothes had begun to dry.

Rae turned on the bed and looked at him, the spread drawn around her shoulders in the chill. “What’re we going to do in New Orleans?” she said.

“Go to the dogs,” he said.

“You won’t leave me to the guys in the plaid suits, will you?”

“Not a chance.”

In the hall he heard footsteps on the tiles. She turned and stared at the globe in the ceiling.

“Do you just like me because I’m the best around?” she said. “I’m sorry to want to know that, I can’t help it.”

He listened to the footsteps approaching. “That sounds right,” he said.

“Then that’s fair,” she said. “I just wouldn’t like you ditching me for somebody you liked less.”

“I couldn’t like anybody less,” he said, “and I couldn’t like anybody any more. That’s what I’ve learned since I was a kid.”

She turned and faced him. “You thought you could live without me, didn’t you?”

“I did a moment,” he said.

“But you can’t, can you?”

“No. I can’t.”

She lay on her back again and thought a moment. “Do you know what today is?” she said softly.

He was listening for the steps. He had no fear of them at all. “I must’ve lost track.”

“It’s your birthday,” she said. “Isn’t that odd? Do you think you’re old enough to live your life now?”

Someone knocked at the door. The clerk stood in the hall nervously. Clerks didn’t like the corridors after dark. “There is a call,” he said softly. “Consulado americano. An emergencia in the prisión. You to come.” He walked away down the empty hall.

“What did he say?” Rae said from the bed. “I didn’t hear.”

“It’s a call. I’ll have to see,” he said.

“But you have to tell me something, though, right now,” she said, staring at him oddly. Love seemed to him like a place to be, a place where nothing troublesome could come inside, not even Sonny’s taking it down. “I just want to know how I look now,” she said. She studied him seriously, afraid. “You see everything. I want to know.” Her eyes were wet and her hair was bright around her face.

“Just great,” he said.

“Wonderful?” she said. “Would you say wonderful?”

“Wonderful,” he said.

“Do you think you’re old enough to live your life unprotected, Harry?” she said. “You can’t back off from what scares you.”

“Nothing scares me,” he said.

“Happy birthday, then,” she said. “Happy birthday to you.” She got out of bed to come with him.