"Wow!" Stantz concluded.
Dana surveyed the Ghostbusters' grab-bag outfits. "Hi!" she offered meekly.
The Ghostbusters, slightly flustered, nodded and waved back.
Venkman faced Stantz and Spengler. "Ray? Egon? I
think we're going to have to pass on the sewer trip. Let me know what you find out."
He led the Ghostbusters to the door. Stantz heaved a sigh. "Okay, but you're missing out on all the fun."
Venkman eased the door shut behind them.
In the hall, Stantz, Spengler, and Winston passed Janine and Louis in the hall. They smiled at each other.
Louis was awestruck by the professional-looking trio. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Where are you going?"
The Ghostbusters walked into the elevator without saying a word.
"Okay," Louis said. "Talk to you later."
Janine knocked on Venkman's front door. Louis was impressed with Janine's importance. He had never visited Venkman at home before. In fact, up until now, he hadn't realized Venkman had a home.
Venkman swung the door open, clad in his dapper suit and looking very suave.
Louis sniffed the air. It reeked of drugstore cologne, spray-on deodorant, and talcum powder.
"Come in." Venkman smiled.
"I just saw the guys in some nifty outfits," Louis said enthusiastically.
"They were helping change a diaper," Venkman said, leading them into the apartment. "It was a pretty messy one."
Janine looked around the loft, frowning. Even when tidied up, the place resembled nothing more than a clubhouse from the old Our Gang comedies. "You ac tually live here?"
"Yes, Janine, I do," Venkman confessed.
"I think it's neat," Louis offered.
Venkman smiled at Janine. "But I'm thinking of moving out soon."
Janine shrugged and, grabbing the TV listings, sat
before the battered television to see if it worked. Louis chatted up Venkman. "I hope you don't mind me being here. I just thought I could keep Janine company."
"It's fine," Venkman said, putting a fatherly arm around the diminutive nerd. "Knock yourself out. But I don't want to come home and find you two making out on the couch!"
"Oh, no." Louis blushed. "We're just good friends."
"Okay, let's keep it that way." Venkman winked, leading Dana out the door.
Hailing a cab, he escorted Dana to one of the swankiest new restaurants in Manhattan: Armand's. It was the kind of restaurant that catered to the very rich and the very blow-dried. Raw fish was served alongside Southwestern cuisine. The wine tasted like Ripple but cost fifty times as much, and the piped-in Muzak sounded like vintage elevator music but was called new age subliminal. Venkman would have preferred a pool hall or an Irish pub, but he figured this was more Dana's style.
The cab pulled to a stop in front of Armand's. Venkman frowned. When he had moved to New York, the place had been a Laundromat. He sighed. He could use a Laundromat right about now.
He guided Dana through the front entrance and slipped the maitre d' a five-dollar bill.
"Your best table, Armand," Venkman cooed, feeling like Douglas Fairbanks.
The maitre d' peeked at the bill and grimaced. Venkman made sure that Dana missed that, and frowning, whipped out a twenty. He stuffed it into the maitre d's hand. The man smiled.
"This better be good," Venkman said to the man.
The maitre d' escorted them to a wonderful table. Venkman glanced over his shoulder. The couple next to
them had ordered a fish that still had the head attached. A cold eye stared blankly at Venkman.
Jeez, he thought, sitting down. At least they could have put a smile on the thing.
He glanced at the menu. His heart sank.
No burgers.
Venkman sighed and made the best of it, ordering caviar and champagne. A slavish waiter brought their appetizer and spirits immediately.
Venkman raised a glass to Dana. "To a wonderful lady. A ninja warrior. A woman who stands tall," he toasted. "It's your night."
Dana smiled sadly and raised her glass. "To the most charming, nicest, kindest ..."
"Why, you're talking about me!" Venkman grinned.
"... most unusual man I've ever broken up with."
They both sipped their champagne.
"Speaking of breaking up with really neat guys," Venk man said casually. "So, tell me why you dumped me."
Dana slid back into her chair. "Oh, Peter. I didn't dump you. I just had to protect myself. You really weren't very good for me, you know."
"Hey," Venkman replied, "I'm not even good for me."
"Why do you say things like that?" Dana said. "You're so much better than you know."
"Thank you." Venkman grinned. "If I had that kind of support on a daily basis, I could definitely shape up by the turn of the century."
Dana smiled, her forehead feeling the first buzz of the champagne. "So why don't you call me in the year 2000?"
Venkman leaned over to kiss her. "Let me jingle you right now."
Dana pulled back. "Maybe I should call Janine."
Venkman continued to lean and pucker. "Don't
worry. Janine has a very special way with children. I know. I've seen her."
Venkman's lips touched Dana's. For a split second all the worries and all the pressures of the day faded. For a split second they were together. In love.
Things were not quite as lovely at Venkman's apartment. Janine sat transfixed before the television, watching a particularly engrossing episode of Jake and the Fatman.
Louis, meanwhile, paced around the living room with a screeching Oscar cradled in his arms. He was trying to feed the tyke a bottle of milk. The baby was having no part of it.
"Maybe a bedtime story would help," Louis mut tered. "You want a bedtime story, baby?"
The baby belched.
Louis took that as a definite yes.
"Okay," he began. "Once there were these seven dwarfs and they had a limited partnership in a small mining operation, and one day this beautiful princess came to stay with them and they bartered room and board in exchange for housekeeping services, which was a very good deal for all of them because back then they didn't have to withhold tax and Social Security, and I guess she didn't have to file state and federal income-tax returns, either, which I'm not saying is right, you understand, because they could've got in a lot of trouble doing that, but it's just a story, so I guess it's okay."
Louis gazed down at Oscar.
The little boy had nodded out.
Louis heaved a sigh. "I can finish this later if you're tired," he advised the child.
Janine munched popcorn before the TV.
On the screen a blurb for the evening news ap peared. A man with a toupee that looked like a muskrat faced the camera. "Ghosts. Are they worse than street gangs? Film and Ouija board at eleven."
22
"Deep within the bowels of New York City, Stantz, Spengler, and Winston stood on an ancient train platform, their powerful flashlights blazing. They quickly unhooked themselves from the cables that had lowered them down to the ooze-laden substrata of Van Horne Station, and gazed down into the churning, glow ing, whirling river of slime beneath them.
It was an awesome sight. The slime belched and bubbled, swished and swirled.
Stantz stared grimly into the "live" river. "Let's get a sounding on the depth of that flow."