‘You said I don’t remember her,’ Whit said. ‘But I remember her scent. I never knew it was gardenia until I was older. I didn’t imagine it, did I?’
Babe nodded, smiled. ‘Yeah. She used a soap that smelled like gardenia.’
‘Why did you marry her?’ Whit realized he had never asked before.
‘Because we got pregnant with Teddy. But the reason I loved her was…’ Babe stopped. ‘She’d walk into a room crowded with people and read it in an instant, like a map. Know who was mad at who, who was wanting who, hardly without two words being spoken. It was funny to me that she could do that. A little hypnotic, too. And she was smart. Pretty but not bitchy about her looks. After she was pregnant, and we’d only known each other about six months, marrying seemed like a fine idea. I loved her and she would have been a great partner in business. I figured I wasn’t gonna do no better.’
‘You didn’t feel trapped?’
‘No.’ Babe shook his head. ‘Sure, I had money, and she didn’t, but Ellen trapped herself. Wanted to be tied down. Forced herself into a structured life. Her mom and her weren’t much more than vagabonds, working jobs up and down the coast. She never knew her dad and her mama died right after Teddy was born, you know. I really didn’t have anyone else to ask about her. After she left, we all sort of felt we’d been fooled into knowing her.’
‘She got tired of normal.’
‘She never appreciated normal.’ Babe stood. ‘Shug, I’m gonna go and sleep next to my beautiful, sweet wife and not talk about Ellen any more.’
‘Would you want to see her, Daddy?’ Whit asked.
‘You mean see her face-to-face?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yes,’ he said after a moment. ‘I would. I don’t wish her ill. But I would like to know what was so goddamned more important than you boys. If she wanted to leave me… fine. But you boys only got one mama. She stole the most precious thing in the world from you and your brothers, Whit, and you deserve an explanation. An apology.’
‘I don’t need her apologies,’ Whit said. ‘Perhaps you do.’
‘It’s water on the moon to me.’ Babe stretched his thin arms above his head. Whit’s throat thickened. His father looked the worst he had since his drowning-in-drink days. The healthy glow of long-term sobriety had been replaced by the dimming paleness of the enemy within, chewing through his father’s liver.
‘You’re like your mother,’ Babe said. ‘I don’t mean it bad. But she had to kick over the anthill to see what would happen. You’re the same.’
‘We could look for her. So you could know what happened to her.’
‘Asking if I want to see her and actually trying to track her down are two different things, Whit. I wouldn’t waste my limited time on Ellen. I’m invoking the I’m-dying-so-I-get-to-be-an-asshole clause. I forbid you to look for her. In case you’re considering it.’
‘I never read that clause.’
‘Respect my wishes. Please.’
‘All right,’ Whit said. He could change his father’s mind later, if Harry Chyme found his mother. He knew he could. He hadn’t heard from Harry in a week. ‘It’s all hypothetical, anyway.’
‘I’ll see you in the morning. Love you, shug.’ Said more often now, in the sunset of life.
‘I love you, too.’ Whit watched his father leave the kitchen, in his slow, tired shuffle.
I don’t have much time left to find her, Whit thought. Not much at all.
4
Paul Bellini liked to watch the girls dancing in the smoky, thin light. The tall redhead, Robin, was the best technical dancer of all the performers. Bucks liked her but wasn’t serious about her, and Paul’d called her up to the private suite to be sure she knew he was top dog. The other was the regal black girl, who danced wearing that custom-fitted computer gear on her body under the name ‘Geek-girl.’ The audience loved her. She kept her eyes locked on his eyes as she danced, perhaps as excited by the sight of him as he was by her. He took another long swig of Scotch as Red Robin doffed her leather bikini top and dropped it on the floor.
He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, hardening in his hand.
‘Wait a damn second,’ Geekgirl said. She stopped dancing.
‘Keep dancing, baby,’ Paul said. ‘In a minute you can get down on your knees and do your best.’
‘Oh, can I?’ she said. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Don’t be snooty,’ Red Robin said with a good-natured laugh and shimmy. ‘Paul’s fun.’
‘Not me,’ Geekgirl said. She crossed her arms over her bikini top. ‘I’m not your whore. So fire me. I’m not worried about keeping my job in a place that’s getting robbed blind.’
Paul didn’t get mad. He grinned, put himself back into his khakis, set his Scotch down on the table. ‘Hey, Robin, go outside for a minute. Let me talk to your friend.’
Robin picked up the leather top, tucked her ample breasts back into it, turned and walked out of the room without another word. The black girl stood there, moved her hands onto her wide hips, frowning.
‘You know who I am?’ Paul said.
‘Yeah. You’re Paul Bellini.’
He laughed but without humor. ‘I own the club. And if I want you to dance for me, then suck me off, sweetheart, that’s what you do.’
She sat down, crossed her legs. ‘Actually, no, I don’t. And if you don’t pull your head out of your ass, sweetpea, you won’t have a club to play around in. Quit worrying about your dick. I told you you’re getting robbed blind and you’re worrying about whether or not you get a blow job tonight.’
Paul shook his head and grinned. He’d have her arms broken in about five minutes. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Geekgirl.’
‘Your real name.’
‘Tasha Strong.’
‘You got a smart mouth, Tasha.’
‘I only use it for talking,’ she said.
‘So who’s robbing me?’ Amusement in his voice.
‘Frank Polo.’
‘Ah. For how much?’
‘Up to ten thousand a week.’
Paul tongued his lip. ‘And how do you know this, Miss CPA?’
‘Most of the girls dancing in here, they’re sweet but not really planning their careers or futures. Like Robin. They’re now people. I’m a tomorrow kind of person. I keep my eyes open. I notice details. Like when I’m doing private dances in the suites for a bunch of drunk lawyers, Frank’s charging five grand on the credit card. But he’s reporting four grand on the books. That other thousand, it’s getting funneled into his pocket. That kind of money adds up real quick.’
‘You’re serious.’ Paul’s face grew hot.
‘I looked on his computer,’ she said. ‘Compared it to the credit slips I saw after my dances over the past month. I kept a little record in my head.’
‘Those files are supposed to be passworded,’ he said.
‘They are. It didn’t stop me.’ She shrugged. ‘His password is groove. That was a real toughie to figure out.’ She pointed to the CDs on her breasts. ‘I do the Geekgirl gig ’cause I used to work with computers.’
‘And now you’re a stripper?’
‘Job market’s better. And you got to follow your dreams.’ He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic. ‘Can I have a sip of your Scotch?’ she asked.
Paul handed her the glass, watched her take a dainty sip, cradle the crystal in her hands. God, she was stunning. ‘You had a stray impulse to look at the books?’ he asked.