When Carl slid off his stool and headed for the men’s room, Sully ducked back from the window, peering in again in time to see Carl disappear into the head. Though Sully’d never noticed it before, it occurred to him now how much Carl reminded him of his father, even though he was about half Kenny’s size and Kenny had been far too homely to be much of a ladies’ man. Sully found himself wishing it was Kenny, not his son, who was peeing in the men’s room trough. Had it been Kenny, Sully wouldn’t have minded getting involved. There was much to be said for a man who wouldn’t hold it against you when you burned down his house.
The only other place that might be open at this time of night was Jerry’s Pizza a few doors down, where all the kids hung out. Normally a greasy burger at The Horse would have been preferable, but there weren’t any kids hanging around Jerry’s entrance, so Sully decided to take a chance. It was Thanksgiving Eve, after all, and maybe the kids were all home and the jukebox that blared heavy metal would be silent for once. Besides, Ruth would be working, and he was going to have to face her eventually anyway. Maybe he’d find her in a holiday mood. Maybe if he saw her he’d quit thinking about Toby Roebuck. It could happen. And it might be a good idea to find out why Jane had come over to the flat that afternoon.
Blessedly, the place was empty. Sully selected a booth out of sight from the street and far from the jukebox which, though silent, glowed red and angry, as if gathering energy and venom from the unaccustomed quiet. “Sully!” a voice boomed from the kitchen. “Thank God we stayed open!”
The voice belonged to Vince, who owned Jerry’s. Jerry, Vince’s brother, ran another pizza place just like it, called Vince’s, in Schuyler Springs. The Schuyler Springs restaurant did a better business, and whoever won the wager on the Bath-Schuyler basketball game got to run the Schuyler Springs place for the following year. By betting on his alma mater, Bath, Vince had lost the better business the last ten years in a row. Jerry always gave his brother points, but never enough of them. Both brothers were huge, burly men with more hair on their chests than their heads. They looked so much alike that over the years people had begun to confuse them, thanks to their physical resemblance and the fact that for the last ten years each had been managing the other’s restaurant. Vince minded losing his identity a lot more than losing his restaurant to basketball wagers, and so, sensing this, Sully had taken to calling him by his brother’s name.
“How about a little service?” Sully called, rapping the back of the booth with his pepper shaker.
The door to the kitchen swung open and Ruth appeared. She did not look to be in a holiday mood. It took her a minute to locate Sully at the far end of the room. “I don’t know what good it does to send a man to college who can’t even read,” she said, in reference to the THIS SECTION CLOSED sign in the center of the floor.
In fact, Sully had not noticed it. He’d just found a spot where nobody would notice him from the street and feel compelled to keep him company. “Sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to get as far from the jukebox as I could. Besides,” he added when Ruth came over, “I don’t go to college any more.”
“So I heard,” Ruth said. “Wirf was in looking for you earlier.” She was making rather a point of just standing there over him instead of slipping into the booth like she would have done if they were still friends. Eventually, Sully knew, they would quarrel over his going back to work, but not now. That was one of the things Sully’d always liked about Ruth. She knew when not to say what she was thinking. What he didn’t like about her was her ability to make clear what she was thinking without saying anything. Right now, for instance, she was thinking his going back to work was not smart, which it probably wasn’t. You’ll be sorry, she was thinking, which he probably would.
“You smell good, anyway,” Ruth said, finally sliding into the booth.
“So do you,” Sully said, grinning at her. “I’ve always liked the smell of pizza.”
Ruth just sat there, nodding and smiling at him, that rather knowing, unpleasant smile she had, the one that never boded well. Still, she looked good to Sully, and he found himself hoping they’d quarrel sooner rather than later, get it over with quickly, because he had missed her company.
“Youth,” she told him now, “is what you like the smell of.”
This was a strange remark, even by Ruth’s standards, and Sully found himself squinting at it, trying to get a handle. True, Ruth was twelve years younger than Sully, but he had a pretty good idea from her tone of voice that Ruth was not referring to herself.
“So,” she continued after a moment’s awkward silence. “How was work?”
“Hard.”
“It got hard today, did it?” Ruth’s knowing smile had become a malicious grin now. She was enjoying herself, watching him squirm and squint at her.
“Is there any way I can get in on this conversation?” Sully asked. “The one you’re having without me?”
“Hey,” Ruth said. “I just wondered how your day went. I thought maybe you struck up an old acquaintance. I take that back. A young acquaintance.”
Now it all fell into place. Someone had seen Toby Roebuck give him a lift downtown and reported it to Ruth, who, just before he’d quit working for Carl in August and enrolled at the college, had accused him of having a crush on Carl’s wife. It had been true, of course, but that hadn’t made the accusation any less surprising, and Sully had wondered, as he sometimes did, if Ruth might be gifted with ESP. He’d even accused her of prescience once or twice, though Ruth had replied that nobody needed any extra senses to figure Sully out.
“Do you realize,” Sully said, “that you and I have been together so long the town gossips treat us like we’re married. They used to talk about you and me to Zack. Now they report my activities to you. Just out of curiosity, what were you told?”
“It’s a kinky relationship, apparently,” she went on. “Involving mud wrestling by way of foreplay.”
Sully smiled at her. “I’m too goddamned tired even for foreplay, Ruth.”
“I’m glad,” Ruth said seriously. “I don’t think I’d take it very well if you threw me over for a cheerleader. You want something to eat?”
“Linguine,” Vince’s voice sang out from the kitchen. Vince’s hearing was legend. He’d been known to come out of the steamy kitchen, stalk across the floor of his raucous restaurant, elbowing among his clientele of screaming teens, and break up a fight before the first punch was thrown, explaining afterward that he’d been listening to the conversation. “He wants linguine and clams. I throw away two goddamn dozen cherrystones a week so he can have linguine the once a month he comes in.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might want something else once?” Sully shouted at the kitchen door. “Just because I let you sell me half a dozen spoiled clams five years ago doesn’t mean I have to keep ordering linguine forever.”
“Wasn’t for you, I’d never have to order a single goddamn clam, you ingrate,” Vince bellowed. “Order whatever you want. Less work for me. I was going to have to pick through the trash for the clams anyhow.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have,” Sully said. “If it’ll cause you extra work, I’ll eat poison.”