The Things We Do for Love Page 9

  She slid into the booth, said hello with too much tongue and ran her nails across the back of my hand.

  “Cool it, Anita. I’m working. You’re here to enjoy dinner, and look like my date, but don’t distract me.”

  She pouted. “You don’t have to be such a meanie,” and went on scratching my hand. Anita had concluded that if I didn’t want to attract attention to myself, then she could tease me all she wanted because the junkyard dog was well tethered tonight and wouldn’t even lunge, much less bite. She was right and was loving every minute of it.

  “Drink, ma’am?” The waiter asked.

  “Yes. I’ll have a brandy and soda, thank you.” She purred. Anita was spraying her charms around like a lawn sprinkler. I shook my head and snuck a glance at Jane and Axel. Their voices were hushed with restraint, but the tension had crumpled up Jane’s brow like a sidewalk when San Andreas sighs. Axel was beating out a rhythm on the table top with his finger. The beat got louder and slower. I slid my chair back a bit. Axel was losing it. I could feel it, reason melting away like a cape of snow on a sunny day.

  Their waiter returned and brought a reprieve for as long as they were distracted enough to look over the menu and order. I took the moment to glance at mine and compose a meal.

  Anita took a long sip and set her drink down. “You’re tight as a drum. What is it?”

  “Nothing. Why don’t you look at your menu so we can order,” I said, sharper than I had to.

  “Be nice. You need me here,” she said, flashing a malicious smile.

  Our waiter came and took our orders. Anita ordered another drink and a half carafe of the house wine with her meal. My food was as much window dressing as she was. There was every chance we’d be leaving here mid-bite. I slipped out an envelope from my jacket and slid it across the table to Anita.

  “Just in case I have to make a hasty exit, this should cover your time and our dinner. Anything extra is yours.”

  Anita checked the contents then slipped the envelope into her black clutch purse. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

  Our appetizers arrived and she began to eat. Axel was chewing loudly and gesturing at Jane with his fork. I searched for his knife. It was still on the table. Jane was idly spinning her fork through her pasta. She looked like she’d had all she could take.

  “I’d have come here for free, you know,” Anita said coyly.

  “Give it a rest, Anita. You’re here because you only want things you can’t have. As long as I’m not interested in you, you find me attractive. I have something you want. Once you get it you’ll wonder what you ever saw in me.”

  “If all I want is what I can’t have, why don’t you just say yes so I’ll leave you alone? Maybe that isn’t really what you want. What do you think, smart guy?”

  I glanced away as I heard Jane and Axel’s voices rise.

  “It always has to be your songs, your lyrics. What makes you think you’re the only one with anything to say?”

  “I’ve never seen any evidence to the contrary, dear Axel. Face it, you’re not Mr. Sensitive or Mr. Insightful. You’re good with your hands, period. Why don’t you just play your part, and I’ll do mine. We’ll never go as far alone, I’m telling you,” Jane said with a trace of sadness.

  “No. You’re not telling me shit, bitch. You’re not telling me how far I’m going.” Axel was in a full body clench.

  “How far do you have to go, Axel? You’re just a guitarist and I’m just a singer. In the scheme of things we aren’t shit. What’ll make you happy? You want it in letters, ten feet tall: The Axeman is God. Will that do it? Will that make you happy?” Jane’s voice escalated past the point of no return. I cringed.

  “Don’t worry about my happiness. You’ve got nothing to do with it.” Axel matched her volume.

  “You’ve made that clear. Well, Axel, you know what? Why don’t you fuck every woman you meet? See if the itch goes away then.” Jane raised her voice a notch or two. She’d be singing her next lines.

  “You may be right, Jane baby. Fucking you sure didn’t do anything for me.” Attaboy Axel, the kitchen staff could hear that.

  Jane tossed her drink in his face, a civilized alternative to spitting on him, and launched herself out of her chair. Anita was closer to her than I was. I flicked her forearm. “Follow her, go.” If she was bound for the ladies’ room I wanted Anita there right beside her. I gave Anita a two count and got up to follow. Axel was wiping himself off. If looks could kill.

  Up ahead, I saw Jane push the rest-room door open. A man stood up from his booth and Anita ran into him. He put his arms around her to steady her, and did a clumsy two-step with her in the aisle. Back and forth, they mirrored each others movements. I put a hand on her ass, pushed her against him, and slid past them. The guy glared at me going by. What do you want, man? People pay good money for less action than you’re getting here for free.

  I knocked hard on the bathroom door. After a second Jane pulled the door back. “Yes?” she snapped.

  “Are you alone in there?” I asked.

  “Jesus Christ. I don’t know. I’ll ask—or do you want to come in and check it out?”

  “I’ll wait right here. If it’s not empty and it’s not an emergency, would you please come out and wait until the room is empty.”

  “Sure, no problem. Anything else you want? Like I should pee violets?”

  “No. I’ll just wait here,” I said to the closing door.

  Anita pulled up next to me. “Thanks for the push, Haggerty. The guy didn’t need any help. He was all over me. What a clod. First he stands right up in my way, then we do that stupid side-to-side thing. Then you let him have the fifty-dollar grope for free. Thanks. I should bill you.”

  “Sorry, Anita. I had to get past you. I knew you’d distract him.”

  Axel walked past.

  “Still got that itch, big boy?” Anita said, flaring her nostrils and curling her lips. I couldn’t tell if she was simulating lust or hayfever.

  Either way, I cackled unprofessionally. Axel leveled a finger at me. I waited for the threat but none came.

  “You’ve got a way with words, Axel. You’ll go far.”

  That earned me another digital communication and then he was gone.

  Shaking my head, I told Anita. “You’re a real troublemaker.”

  “I made you laugh.”

  “That you did.”

  “I could make you smile if you’d give me a chance.”

  “In another lifetime, another lifetime,” I said.

  Jane stepped out of the ladies’ room and joined us in a tight circle.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  “Okay.” I looked at Anita. “Thanks for your help. Settle up for the four of us and the rest is yours.” I said.

  “Sure. Nice seeing you again, Haggerty,” she said with a slight smile. Anita walked back to the table with more hip-sway than she needed. Or I could use.

  CHAPTER 21

  I told Davey to bring the car up, we were coming out. I asked Jane to stand behind me in the outer hallway. Davey pulled up and we walked quickly to the car. I let Jane in and then slid in next to Davey.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  I turned to look at Jane. She said, “I don’t know. Just drive I guess.”

  “Just drive it is,” Davey said and merged into traffic.

  After a few minutes I asked Jane “Do you want to go back to the hotel and try to catch a late flight back to L.A.?”

  She mulled that over, tapping her nails against the window. “No. There’s no hurry. I have some thinking to do.” She laughed hollowly. “Things are looking up. Two down, two to go.”

  “Meaning?”

  “No lawsuit, no lover. All I have to do is figure out how to lose a band and a lunatic and I’m home free.”

  “Yeah,” I said, chewing my lip. Right now I felt like I was caught in a rundown between third and home.

  “Let’s go somewhere I can hear some music. I wa
nt to sit down, get ripped and have somebody blow me away. Let’s get a paper and see who’s in town.”

  “Uh, Jane, I really don’t think that’s wise. You want to think about the band, let’s go back to the hotel. Problem number four is still out there somewhere.”

  “Fuck wise, fuck reasonable. I’m tired of being reasonable. If you don’t like it, let me out here. I’m tired of being fucked with by leeches. That dumb-ass kid wanted a free feel and then a hose into my wallet. Axel wanted all of me for only half of him. No way, Jose. The band wants to flush all I’ve worked for down the toilet. Fuck ’em. Never. This lunatic wants to get his fifteen minutes on the news. I’m tired of it. Now let me out, right here. I mean it. I have fucking had it.”

  Jane was losing it. I didn’t want to lose her. Time to regroup. Targets do this. The confinement and fear pile up and there’s no one to strike at. So they bare their chests and say do it, do it, do it, or get out of my face. I as a trained professional would never do such a thing. Suck my thumb, yes. This, no. I weighed my options: fire the client and let her out here with a quarter for a phone call; try to help her discharge the tension in a safe way by talking about it until the impulse passed; indulge her for a short while and then back to basics.

  “Jane, I know how you feel. This is …”

  “Oh you do, do you? You have people out there who want to kill you?”

  “No, I don’t, but if I have to I’m going to step in front of a bullet that has your name on it, or an ice pick or whatever. So I think I know what you’re feeling maybe just a little bit.” I barked and she fell silent. I set my teeth carefully on edge so as not to crack one and tried to imagine myself lying on a large raft, with a drink on my stomach, like a giant otter, riding the gentle swells of a crystal-clear ocean toward a pure white beach. Samantha, nut-brown all over, would be on that beach. When this is over, I promised myself.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking about myself. I don’t know what I thought you were doing here—just being a chaperon, I guess. I don’t know. I never took it to heart what being a bodyguard means. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Let’s see who’s in town and where they’re playing. We might be able to work something out. It’s worth looking into.”

  “Thanks.”

  With that truce in place I asked Davey to find a 7 Eleven or a High’s, so I could pick up a Post.

  Fifteen minutes later I was scanning the Style section and reading the names of acts and clubs to Jane. When we got to The Abominable Showmen, Jane perked up.

  “Where are they playing?”

  “The Beaten Path.”

  “What time is the next show?”

  “Nine-thirty.”

  “They’d be perfect. Let’s go see them.”

  I tried to remember if I’d ever been in The Beaten Path and what the layout was. Drawing a blank, I said, “We’ll check it out. If it’s a reasonably controllable situation, okay. If not it’s back to the hotel, okay?”

  “Fair enough. If it’ll help, use my name. Maybe we can get a quiet table in a corner or something.”

  “No way. Let’s just see what happens.”

  I told Davey the address and we headed into Georgetown. We joined the curbside crawl down Wisconsin Avenue. On M Street we turned right and crept towards Key Bridge. As bad as the roads were, the sidewalks were even more crowded. People were going to have to start wearing taillights to avoid pile-ups. The Beaten Path was on a side street halfway down to the Potomac. There was, of course, no parking to be found anywhere. We should loan our urban planners out to the Russians. They’d bring them to their knees without a shot being fired. Once they’re as well planned as we are we could schedule a war for the first warm spring day. Mutual massive gridlock would ensue, no one would get to the bathroom, much less a missile launching center, the war could be declared a draw and we could get on with things.

  Davey pulled up to the front door. I liked the no-windows look. Hopping out, I circled the building. One door out front, a fire door in the back that could only be opened from the inside. So far so good. I went inside. The band was taking a break between shows. A quick scan of the crowd and I could tell we weren’t in Kansas, Toto. Whether we were still on the planet Earth was in question. Genders weren’t being blurred, entire species lines were being crossed. I had seen the future and it had rhinestones on its tongue. I’d have to ask Jane what this tribe was called. The band, who visually held their own with the audience, were the guys sweating in the corner.

  The fire door was off to the right of the stage. A small dance floor was in front of the stage, should the urge to get-up-and-do-whatever grab you. The bar was along the right wall. The tables were crowded together but the place wasn’t full. The maximum capacity listing above the bar was one hundred and twenty. The Showmen had maybe eighty on hand.

  I felt a tapping on my arm. I turned to see a woman entirely bald except for a braided rattail. She smiled. “Cover charge is ten dollars.”

  I ignored her for a second continuing to scan the seating. “Okay. I want that table over there,” I said, pointing to one in the right corner, near the fire door, “and I want to reserve the four tables around it.” I counted the tables off as I pointed to them.

  “How many people in your group?”

  “Just two.”

  Her eyes flicked away from me, towards the bar.

  I smiled at her. She nodded her head and matched my moronic grin. She thinks she’s talking to Karnak.

  “I’ll pay for the space. I don’t care what it costs. I just don’t like to feel crowded, you see.” What the hell, play it strange. Normal wouldn’t be caught dead in here.

  “Sure, whatever.” She counted seats, and then did her figuring on her fingers. “That’ll be two hundred and twenty bucks for the empty tables. Plus you and your companion.”

  “Will that keep the seats empty for the whole show?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right back.” I went out and got into the car.

  “All right Jane, we’ve got ringside seats for the next show. Davey, pull around back and sit in the alley. If anything happens we’ll be coming out the back door. You’ll have to be facing the river. Is that okay?”

  Davey was looking at a map. “Yeah, I’ll go down to the K Street underpass and we’ll go out that way. It’s a lot better than M Street.”

  “Before we do this, any signs of that tail?” I asked Davey.

  “Nope. Nothing. I’m beginning to think I was imagining it.”

  “All right then, let’s go, Jane.” I opened the car door and helped her out.

  I paid the doorperson and steered Jane toward the table.

  Seconds after we sat down, a waitress appeared.

  “What’cha want?”

  I said “Coke.”

  “Gonna be three bucks, ya know.” She was concerned that I make an informed decision. God bless.

  “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  “And you?” She nodded at Jane.

  Jane ordered a Typhoon and then had to describe it. Twice.

  The waitress walked off. Halfway to the bar she glanced back at us, frowning. At the bar she placed the order and then turned around to stare at us.

  I kept her on the edge of my field of vision and watched the band rouse itself and climb back on stage. Five anorectic transvestites plugged into enough electricity to light up Las Vegas. I flicked off my power-unit. Davey would never be able to hear me over the noise.

  The waitress returned with our drinks, collected the money and lingered just a second. I stared at her. “Yes?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said and walked away.

  The lead singer stepped up to the microphone, sneered at the audience and announced the first song of the set. This little ditty was called “The Squeal of Love.” After that we got “Nietzsche’s Revenge” and a rousing anthem called “Ollie’s Follies.” The singer sounded like Pee-wee Herman on nitrous oxide and the band b
eat their instruments to death. They were well named. Everything was loud, fast and funny in a bleak sort of way.

  Jane sat and sipped her drink. She smiled every now and then at a lyric, tapped her feet, shrugged her shoulders and seemed to be letting the music blast her worries out of her. If she was thinking about anything whe wasn’t letting on.

  Eight or ten songs later the band took another break.

  “How’re we doing?” I asked Jane.

  “Good. Real good. I’m getting a buzz on, I’m putting all this shit behind me.” She had four Typhoons in her, and she had a buzz. I’d have been a fucking hive by now.

  The band was regrouping, powering up their instruments.

  Jane was lost in a reverie. Eyes closed, she bit down on her lip. Whatever she was hearing was starting to seep down into her body. Her shoulders moved back and forth, her hips went side to side. While she couldn’t see me I took the time to carefully study her. She had a long, narrow face that ended with a square jaw. Full lips, straight nose, precipitous cheekbones, and amethyst eyes. All under a mop of sandy-brown hair with a corona of white that fanned out along her temples.

  She opened her eyes as the band finished tuning up. Her face grew animated. Eyebrows went up and down, eyes shifted left and right, a smile came and went.

  “Ladies and gentleman, a big hand for a surprise guest in our audience, Jane Doe.”

  I snapped out of my trance and looked around. The lead singer was pointing to Jane. A spotlight slowly swung across the room and landed on us, a light so bright it had weight.

  Here and there people were on their feet, clapping and whistling.

  A chant of “Song, Song” began to rise up from the crowd. The lead vocalist stepped back from the mike and motioned for Jane to take it.

  We had just roared past “time to leave.” I motioned to Jane to get up and head for the door. She shook her head no.

  “Jane, Jane, Jane,” the crowd went on. I stood up in the glare of the light. Jane pushed her chair back and stood up briefly, then sagged against me. I got a good grip on her elbow and steered her toward the door. She tried to pull away. “Let me go. I want to sing,” she whined.