The driver lit a cigarette and they pulled away from the curb, heading south. It took them more than twenty minutes to get to the Southside, and the taxi turned on Euclid Avenue, at the nineteenthcentury church, continued along Euclid until it turned left on Sunset Avenue and right on West Mineral Street, then slowed down in the middle of it surrounded by wood frame houses with wooden porches anchored by stone pillars, and descending stone stairs to flats below street level. Angela rolled down the window to get a better look at the houses on the street. Here and there the sidewalk was buckled by the shallow spreading roots of an oak tree. A couple walked their dog down the sidewalk beneath the glow of streetlights.
Angela shook her head, she wasn’t interested in this address either, and the driver continued on West Mineral, turned left at Booth Street, left on Drake Avenue, left on Sunset and back to Euclid. The sky was painted with stars that weren’t lost in the overall glow of the city’s lights, and they blinked knowingly at her as she stared up at them through the open window. The taxi was going to Pigsville.
When they got there she asked the driver to stop on a deserted street. Cars hummed and rumbled past them. The taxi engine idled, and she looked out at the sort of neighborhood she’d been looking for all night. She gave the driver an address taken from her sheets of paper. They turned right at the next block and came to a halt in front of one of the many one-story four-room wooden houses lined up on each side of Nightingale Lane. This was it. She thought for an instant about what she’d done in order to get to this address in Pigsville. She had played the game with the vibrator, and then fucked Burnett so he’d do what she asked him to do, and she’d liked it up to a point, and that’s what had got her here. Angela’s eyes were fixed on a yellowish light shining dully through a window shade.
Angela gave the taxi driver an address not far from her own, around the corner on Second and Lafayette, because she didn’t want him leaving her at an address he’d write down in a logbook that could later be traced to her. She got out at the corner beneath a streetlight, paid the driver what she owed him and gave him a generous tip and put his business card in her wallet. There might be a next time and she liked the way he knew the city.
Alone in the apartment, she undressed and put on her satin robe and tied the belt around her narrow waist before setting the water to boil for instant noodle soup.
[ 15 ]
Pohl finished his first drink less than a minute after the bartender set it down. He got to the Casino Club a good half-hour before the time he’d arranged to meet Shimura, and he was sure that his friend knew it because he’d been doing the same thing, arriving early for every appointment for pleasure or business, since they were in high school together.
He repeatedly picked up and put down the empty glass, made intersecting rings on the bar counter, and stared at the gold letters that spelled out the name Casino Club on the rim of the smoky glass ashtray with a burning cigarette and two extinguished butts of the same brand. He swiveled on the bar stool to get a better look at the club. The booths and tables were packed with customers. He was satisfied that he didn’t know anyone in the club tonight. He called the bartender over and ordered another drink, then finished his cigarette, happily flicking ashes in the ashtray.
Pohl was thirsty and hungry. He asked the bartender for a glass of water and a snack to tide him over until dinner. The bartender returned with a pitcher of ice water and a bowl of fresh fish eyes in some sort of spicy sauce. Pohl popped one in his mouth and chewed it slowly, savoring it. Juice dribbled down his chin. He dabbed at the juice with a paper napkin. Pouring himself a glass of ice water, he drank it down in one gulp.
Shimura arrived on time. He went straight to the bar. There was a lot of noise in the restaurant adjacent to the bar. Shimura’s eyes went from table to table, booth to booth, looking at the faces of the customers. A young woman licking an ice cream bar caught his eye. He smiled at her pixie-ish face. He sat down next to Pohl, folded his hands on the bar, ordered an aniseed vodka on the rocks. Then he looked at the bowl of fish eyes.
“How can you eat that?” Shimura’s face twisted with disgust.
“I like them.”
Pohl picked up a couple of moist fish eyes and rolled them around between his fingers before dropping them into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, wiping away the spicy juice and smacking his lips. Another glass of water, then he ran his tongue across his upper front teeth.
“All right, you don’t have to make a show of it,” Shimura said, taking a sip from his glass.
“They’re better in pairs,” Pohl confided.
“I’m sure they are.”
Pohl pushed the bowl of fish eyes away, looking intently at Shimura. His face was drawn into a frown. “I want to forget about it. Maybe if I forget about it, it’ll just be wind or dust.”
“Poetic. Angela?” Shimura asked.
“Angela.” Pohl finished his whisky, put the glass down and picked it up and put it down, making more intersecting rings on the bar. He was far away.
“What is it?”
Without answering, Pohl smiled bitterly, waved at the bartender and ordered another drink. Shimura nursed his. Pohl looked at Shimura and said: “I wish I could forget it. It doesn’t do me any good to remember.”
“Remember what? Will you please tell me what’s going on.”
Shimura was losing his patience. His feet were hot and the heat rose slowly to his head. It was a ball of heat like a peach pit and when it rose it scratched the lining of his stomach and throat and nose. He pinched his nose shut to keep the peach pit from coming out.
“I haven’t slept a wink,” Pohl said. His body jerked slightly.
“You’ve been awake all this time?”
“I’m the one to blame. It’s not what you think.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“No uninvited guests! That’s my motto from now on. And don’t go poking your nose into what’s none of your business.”
“Two mottos.”
“That’s right.” Pohl sipped from his glass of whisky. “Maybe if I’d pay less attention to her she’d pay more attention to me. That’s the way it works with women.”
Pohl laughed at his own words.
A strangely perverse laugh, it chilled his friend, who picked up his aniseed vodka, drank it down, and waved at the bartender for another.
“Let’s have it,” Shimura said, looking at Pohl’s steady hands. “What’s worrying you?”
Pohl took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He pushed aside the glass of whisky, tired of it and almost everything else, and plucked two fish eyes from the bowl, chewing and swallowing methodically. Not a drop of juice spilled down his chin. He combed his hair back with his hand, smiled at Shimura, who returned a sincere smile of his own, then told him the story of what he’d seen when he’d crept into Angela’s apartment.
“She wasn’t alone,” Pohl concluded, pinching two fish eyes between his fingers, then putting them in his mouth. “There was someone there with her, and I didn’t see his face.”
Shimura switched his gaze from Pohl’s sad eyes to the ceiling. Pohl took his hand away from his cheek, his longish hair fell in front of his eyes and he stared through the strands at Shimura. Shimura looked warmly at Pohl. Pohl averted his eyes, cleared his throat, shrugged.