"Huh?"
"While I was dead, Jake. I was in this—place. There was a very old Man with a long white beard. He had a big book. He looked at me, then consulted His book, then looked back at me. He said, ‘Son, you've been a bad boy. But not too bad, so I'm going to give you another chance. Do your best and don't worry; you'll have help.' What do you think, Jake?" (What is this, Boss? Did it happen to you, too?) (Eunice, if it happened to you, it happened to me; it's the same thing. And you are my help, beloved. My guardian angel.) (Oh, frimp you! I'm no angel, I'm me.) (A very earthy angel, beloved darling—just what I need.) (Love you, too, you dirty old man.)
Salomon answered slowly, "Anthropomorphism. Right out of your Bible-Belt Sunday school."
"Oh, certainly. It had to be in symbols I could understand. If I had been a creature from around Proxima Centauri, the old Man and the beard might have been a Thing with eight tentacles and faceted eyes. Cliché symbols are nothing against it; I've never thought it was a physical experience. Men live by symbols, Jake. That—symbolic——experience was as real to me as any physical experience. And allow me to point out that I do have a second chance and I have, and am having, lots of help—from you especially, from Mac and Alec, from doctors and nurses... and also from something inside that tells me instantly, in any difficult situation, exactly how Eunice would handle it. I don't say it's Eunice... but it's not Johann; he wouldn't know how. Well?"
Salomon sighed. "Of the inventing of gods there is no end. And almost always anthropomorphic. Joan, if you are going in for that sort of self-delusion, why not go whole hog and join a nunnery?"
"Because Eunice would not. Although she might enjoy revamping a monastery."
Jake chuckled. "She might, at that."
"Maybe I should try it—since you are so damn chinchy about making me an honest woman. More likely I'll change my name again and disappear and wind up in a crib in Bombay. Will you come visit me, Jake?"
"No. Too hot."
"Chinchy. Mean old Jake. You wouldn't refuse to go see Eunice because of heat."
"Eunice would never wind up in a crib."
"No, she wouldn't. So I have to go on being a lady even though it's quite a strain on old Johann."
"Poor you. All you have is youth, beauty, and half as much money as the I.R.S."
"And you, Jake. I could lose the rest and still be rich." (I was wondering if you would see that opening. Sister, you don't need my advice; I think I'll take a vacation.) (You promised to stay!) (Yes, Boss darling. I can't leave; we're Siamese twins. But even if I could, I'd stay because I want to.) (Eunice beloved, I have never been happier in my life.) Joan Eunice moved closer to Jake. "Jake dear, I have never been happier in my life."
A brassy voice from the cockpit said, "I am about to swing for landing. Please secure seat belts."
Salomon answered, "Seat belts fastened and now being tightened. Proceed with landing." To Joan he said, "Straighten up, Eunice—and do snap up that magno."
Joan Eunice pouted her lip and obeyed.
15
Security check took little time; Salomon was known to the enclave guards and the copter was expected. It was a short walk from the landing to Salomon's house but, as in all upper-class enclaves, inhabitants in sight outdoors pretended not to see them. The door opened to Jake's voice and again they were private.
Joan Eunice took off her street robe and handed it to Jake, saying, "May I look around? Jake, it's been years since I've been here; you've made changes."
"Some. Moved my personal gear to the Gib or to your house, not much left but furniture which I'll sell with the house. Oh, I keep some clothing and toilet articles here, and I can find us a drink and a tin of biscuits. Perhaps smoked oysters or caviar; we have to kill an hour or two. Or I could send out for dinner."
"Let me see what there is in your kitchen; I would enjoy playing housewife. And I do want to look around."
"Look all you like, but tell me what you want to drink. Joan, have you ever been in a kitchen?"
"None of your lip, lad; I'm a good cook. Mama taught me to make Apfelstrudel—dough you could read print through and so light it melted in your mouth—before you were born. Sherry, or a Dubonnet highball—no Schnaps, I'm not risking it yet."
"I'll stack my kosher cooking against your Bavarian messes any day, girl. The Goyim can't cook the way the Chosen People can."
"Oh, pooh, you fake Jew. You haven't tasted my pot roast with noodles. I bached between wives—and cooks—and mistresses, and I always cooked. Jake, wouldn't it be fun to cook for each other and swap recipes? We could do it here. I don't dare enter my own kitchen; Della would faint."
"Might be fun. We can eat my cooking when your boasts don't pan out. Excuse me; I'll see what liquor there is."
Joan Eunice headed straight for the master bedroom. (Eunice, is this one of the places?) (Of course. See that sag in the bed? Boss, this is the only place we managed an all-night. Heavenly!) (‘All night?' Then his mobiles do more than suspect; they know.) (Oh, they may suspect but it doesn't matter. Charlie isn't interested in women, and Rockford—well, he's on my team. He approves of anything immoral, illegal, or dishonest—and my conduct was all three, by his standards. He's an atavism. But the all-night—I doubt if they suspected. We used more fan-dancing to keep it out of their sight than Joe's sight—things involving two hired Brink's cars and a non—existent errand for you.) (How did you fan-dance it for Joe?) (Didn't. I thought up a story and told Jake I would use it—then told Joe that I had met a man I wanted to speed a night with… did he mind if I was away Friday night?)
(As simple as that?) (Yes, Boss. We both were free but we were careful never to hurt each other. Only a second-class contract—since I was licensed for children and Joe was not. Either of us could have registered a dissolution on three days' notice.)
(But what did Joe say?) (Nodded and went on painting. He kissed me good-bye and told me to have fun; Joe was always sweet. But he may not have missed me. He was painting from a new model, a beautiful boy who was a frimp type. Joe may have been changing his luck; he sometimes did.)
(And you didn't mind?)
(That beautiful boy? Boss, you've got to move into the twenty-first century, now that you're me. What possible harm? I've told you and told you that Joe and I were always careful of each other's happiness; what more could I ask? Besides, I don't know that Joe had his eye on him other than as a model but—well, if they had invited me to move to Troy with them, I wouldn't have minded, for a night or two. I've always preferred older men—but the boy was pretty as a Palomino and clean as a sterilized cup; I wouldn't have found it boring. Plus the fact that a woman is flattered if two males like her enough to let her watch what they do.)
(Eunice my love, you continue to startle me. That angle I would never have thought of. Yes, I guess it would be a compliment, in a way. I think that men—even men today—are shyer about such things than women are.)
(Men are horribly shy, Boss—whereas women usually are not. We just pretend to be, when it's expected of us. Look, a woman is a belly with a time bomb inside, and women know it and can never get away from it. They either quit being shy—no matter how they behave to please men—or they go crazy; it's the choice we have to make. And high time you made that choice, dear. Accept your femaleness and live with it. Be happy.) (I think 1 have.) (You're coming along. But sometimes it feels like the bravado of a little boy who says, 1 am not either scared!' when he's ready to wet his pants, he's so frightened.) (Well, maybe. But I've got you holding my hand.) (Yes, dearest. Mama will take care of you.)