“The hell you wouldn’t.”
“It was a very cheap brand anyway. Ordinarily I wouldn’t demean myself by touching such stuff, but under the stress of the moment...”
Pinata threw back his head and laughed, and Fielding, who hadn’t intended to be amusing, watched him with an aggrieved expression. But the laughter was contagious, and pretty soon Fielding joined in. The two of them stood in the dingy little rain-loud office, laughing: a middle-aged man in a torn shirt with dried blood on his face, and a young man wearing a crew cut and a neat dark business suit. He looked more as if he dealt in government bonds than in bail bonds.
Fielding said finally, wiping the moisture from his eyes with a soiled handkerchief, “Ah, how I dearly love a good laugh. It takes the kinks out of your mind, straightens out your thinking. There I was, getting all fussed up over a few little words, a few silly little words. And you, what fussed you up so suddenly?”
Pinata glanced briefly at the letter on his desk. “Nothing.”
“Moody, are you?”
“Moody, yes.”
“Are you Spanish or Mexican?”
“I don’t know. My parents didn’t stick around long enough to tell me. Maybe I’m Chinese.”
“Fancy that, not knowing who you are.”
“I know who I am,” Pinata said distinctly. “I just don’t know who they were.”
“Ah yes, I see your point. A good point, too. Now take me, I’m exactly the opposite. I know all about my grandparents and great-grandparents and uncles and cousins, the whole damn bunch of them. And it seems to me I got kind of lost in the shuffle. My ex-wife was always telling me I had no ego, in a reproachful way, as if an ego was something like a hat or pair of gloves which I’d carelessly lost or misplaced.” Fielding paused, squinting up his eyes. “What happened to the girl’s husband?”
“What girl?”
“The waitress, Nita.”
“He’s still in jail,” Pinata said.
“I think she should have bailed him out, let bygones be bygones.”
“Maybe she prefers him in.”
“Say, Mr. Pinata, you wouldn’t by any chance have another pint of bourbon around? That cheap stuff doesn’t stay with you.”
“You’d better get cleaned up first, before your daughter arrives.”
“Daisy has seen me in worse...”
“I’m sure Daisy has. So why not surprise her? Where’s your tie?”
Fielding put up one hand and felt his neck. “I guess I lost it someplace, maybe at the police station.”
“Well, here’s a spare one,” Pinata said, pulling a blue-striped tie from one of his desk drawers. “A client of mine tried to hang himself with it. I had to take it away from him. Here.”
“No. No, thank you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t happen to like the idea of wearing a dead man’s tie.”
“Who said he’s dead? As a matter of fact, he’s selling used cars a couple of blocks up the street.”
“In that case I suppose there’s no harm in my borrowing it for a while.”
“The bathroom’s down the hall,” Pinata said. “Here’s the key.”
When Fielding returned, five minutes later, he had washed the dried blood off his face and combed his hair. He was wearing the blue-striped tie, and his sports jacket was buttoned to hide the tear in his shirt. He looked quite sober and respectable for a man who was neither.
“Well, that’s an improvement,” Pinata said, wondering how soon it would be safe to let him have another drink. The old drinks were wearing off fast now, Pinata could tell by the jerky movements of Fielding’s eyes and the nervous whine in his voice.
“What difference should it make to you, Pinata, how I look in front of my own daughter?”
“I wasn’t thinking of you. I was thinking of her.” No, that’s a lie. I was thinking of Johnny and how I never want him to see me in the same shape Daisy has seen, and will see, her father.
It was mainly for the sake of the boy that Pinata kept himself in very good condition. He swam every day in the ocean in the summer, and in the winter he played handball at the Y and tennis at the municipal courts. He didn’t smoke and seldom drank, and the women he took out were all very respectable, so that if, by some miraculous stroke of fate, he should ever meet Johnny accidentally on the street, the boy would have no reason to be ashamed of him or his choice of companion.
But it was difficult, living for a boy he only saw for a month out of each year, and the days were often hard to fill, like a jug with a hole in the bottom. His work, though, saved him from self-pity. Through it he came in contact with so many people in so many and various stages of despair that by comparison his own life seemed a good one. Pinata wanted to remarry and felt that he should. He was afraid, however, that if he did, his ex-wife might seize the occasion to go to court and try to have Johnny’s yearly visits curtailed or stopped altogether; she begrudged the time and effort the visits cost her and the disruption they caused in the life of her new family.
Fielding was at the window, peering down into the street. “She should be here by this time. Half an hour, she said. Isn’t it more than that already?”
“Sit down, and relax,” Pinata said.
“I wish this damn rain would stop. It’s making me nervous. It’s enough of a strain on me having to face Daisy.”
“How long is it since you’ve seen her?”
“Hell, I don’t know. A long time anyway.” He had begun to tremble, partly from the drinking he’d done, partly from dread of the emotional experience of seeing Daisy again. “How should I act when she gets here? And what the hell will I say to her?”
“You did all right on the telephone.”
“That was different. I was desperate, I had to phone her. But listen, Pinata, there’s no real reason why I should have to see her, is there? I mean, what’s to be gained? You can give her a message for me. Tell her I’m O.K. and I’m working steady now, at the Harris Electrical Supply warehouse on Figueroa Street. Tell her...”
“I’ll tell her nothing. You’re going to do the talking, Fielding. Yourself personally.”
“I won’t. I can’t. Be a sport for chrissake and let me out of here before she comes. I give you my word that Daisy will pay you the money I owe, my solemn word...”
“No.”
“Why not, in God’s name? Are you afraid you won’t get your money?”
“No.”
“Then let me go, let me out of here.”
“Your daughter’s expecting to see you,” Pinata said. “So she’s going to see you.”
“She won’t like what I came up here to tell her anyway. But I felt I ought to tell her. It was my duty. Then I got cold feet and went into that bar to warm them up a bit, and...”
“Tell her what?”
“That I’m married again,” Fielding said. “It’ll be a shock to her, hearing she’s got a new stepmother. Maybe I’d better break the news to her more gradually, say in a letter. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll write her a letter.”
“No, you won’t. You’re staying right here, Fielding.”
“How do you know Daisy wants to see me? Maybe she’s dreading this as much as I am. Listen, you said before I was a bum. O.K., I’m a bum, I admit it. But I don’t want to have to spell it out in front of my own daughter.” He took two or three defiant steps toward the door. “I’m leaving. You can’t stop me. You hear that? You can’t stop me. You have no legal right to...”