Trudy said to me, "I've explained to them that you and Leonard are with us."
"Except I'm not giving my share to any whales or such," Leonard said.
Trudy didn't bite. She was learning to ignore Leonard. Things went better that way. She gestured to the doughy man, said, "This is Chub."
Chub came forward, put out his hand and I took it and we shook. "Real name is Charles," he said, "everyone calls me Chub because I'm a little pudgy."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I smiled like a jackass and Chub went on to Leonard and shook his hand, said, "Trudy just told us about her hesitation in letting you in on our plans here, and I want to assure you it had nothing to do with you being black. That isn't our way. We make our decisions on a one-to-one basis."
Leonard said, "You keep your dialogue on a three-by-five card?"
Chub grinned. "I accept that. I learned years ago, if you express what you think and feel, you're better off than if you don't."
"Chub's had analysis," the burned man said, "and he never lets us forget it."
"It's done me a world of good," Chub said. "There was a time when being the fat kid, the one who got chosen last in football, the one who didn't get the pretty girls or get asked to go riding around with the popular boys, was painful and important. It carried over into being an adult. But analysis has allowed me to move beyond that and I can accept who I am."
"Yeah, but I don't think I can," Leonard said.
"That's right," Chub said. "Express yourself. I'm not offended."
"Before he expresses himself in a way you don't want, Chub," the burned man said, "let me introduce myself. I'm Paco."
"Paco what?" Leonard said.
"Just Paco."
Paco didn't come forward to shake hands, and we didn't go to him. I stood there feeling foolish. Leonard probably felt disgusted, and with good reason. What had seemed like a good idea yesterday now seemed childish and pathetic. Reality had taken hold and I felt like a little boy who had been playing at adventurer but had just been told by Mother to put my toys away and come in to supper.
We stood that way a long time. Leonard said, "Isn't anyone gonna ask me my sign?"
Chub said, "I sense a lot of hostility in you, Leonard. I'd like to know you better, have you think of me as a friend, someone you can talk to. Being able to talk things out can really let off pressure."
"Chub," Leonard said, "that analysis shit might be all right for an airhead like you, but you come at me again with that, I'm gonna let off that pressure you're worried about."
Chub started to open his mouth, then mulled it over. His lips twitched, like the words were living things trying to push out. But he held them. Leonard looked like a man who just might let off pressure.
I felt sorry for poor Chub on one hand, but on the other he sort of asked for what he got. Kind of wore a perpetual KICK ME sign around his neck and on his ass.
"We're not getting off to the best start," Howard said. "There's no need for threats."
"He wants to talk like people talk, okay," Leonard said, "but he wants to play analyst, he can talk that trash to himself."
"We're going to work together," Howard said, "we got to coexist."
"True," Paco said, "but could be a solid punch in the teeth would do Chub some good. I'm tired of him myself." He looked over at Chub. "One word about my physical scars being a manifestation of my internal condition, or some dumb thing like that, and I'm going to promise you something similar to what Leonard promised."
Chub put his hands in his pockets and smiled to let us know he could take whatever was dished out. He was okay, you were okay.
"Violence isn't the way here," Howard said. "Let's sit down and get something to drink or smoke and talk business. We'll eat in awhile."
"That sounds right enough," Leonard said.
"Trudy," Howard said, "will you help me bring in some drinks?" Then to us, "Selection's limited. Coke, beer, some Dickie whiskey. We got a little grass, anyone wants it."
Chub didn't want anything. I went for beer. Paco and Leonard took the Dickie.
Trudy caught my eye and gave me a look that pinned my skull to the wall. Gee, what did I do? Leonard was the bigmouth. I thought I'd been pretty sweet, all things considered.
I tried smiling at her, but she wasn't going for that. She turned her back, and she and Howard went into the kitchen and closed the door.
Paco went over to Leonard, grinned and said, "By the way, big fella, what is your sign?"
"The Asshole," Leonard said.
"I'll buy that," Paco said.
Chub smiled. He smiled big. He liked himself. He and the world were at one with one another. Except he was smiling so tight the muscles in his cheeks were quivering.
In the kitchen I could hear Howard murmuring, and though I couldn't understand what he was saying, I could tell from the tone of his voice that Leonard and I had already worn out our welcome, or Leonard had worn it out for the both of us. Not that it mattered. Now that we were dealt in, they had to let us stay. Thing was, I wasn't sure there was anything to stay for.
That feeling of foolishness washed over me again, big time.
Chapter 9
After a bit, Trudy and Howard came back with our drinks, and I sat on the couch with them. Leonard got the gutted chair, and Paco and Chub pulled the folding chairs up close. Howard sipped a beer and went through the stuff Trudy had told us about the money most likely being laundered. Then he started waving his hands and working his best facial expressions; threw in a few cents about how the spirit of the sixties need not die; how the money we were going to get could be used to push the ideals of that time forward; said the survivors of that noble era need not fall by the wayside; that unlike the dinosaur our generation had been compared to, we were not in fact extinct or even on the endangered species list, we were merely hibernating like a bear, and now was the time to awake to a new and productive spring.
Although Howard pretended to be talking to both me and Leonard, it was pretty clear it was me he was trying to interest. Trudy had told him about my past, about my involvement in "the movement," and he thought he might jump-start my old battery if he could find the right words.
He couldn't.
I was curious about what they had in mind, but felt it would be a mistake to go the next step and ask. I'd open a whole new can of germs that way. Once they knew I was interested they'd try to work their virus into my bloodstream and take over, and I couldn't see any reason to go through the process.
From the way Trudy looked at me, I think she was both surprised at me and disgusted with me. I don't know if it was my lack of interest in their cause, whatever it was, or the realization she was losing control over me.
During Howard's dissertation on the sixties and what it meant to him and should mean to all of us, Chub threw in a few "right ons," but for the most part was mercifully silent. Paco yawned a lot, and Trudy tried to stare me into submission. I attempted to look pleasant but a little dense, like a dog listening to a talk on nuclear physics.
When Howard was on his third run of rephrasing what he'd already said, hoping to sneak up on my blind side, Leonard said, "Since I don't see we're talking much business, pardon me, will you? Because like the bear coming out of hibernation and feeling the first intestinal stirrings of spring, I've got to take me a big, greasy shit. When y'all get to the folk songs part, maybe I'll come back. I'm good on 'I Got a Hammer.' "
"Wrong era," I said. "We're talking Beatles and Doors here."
"I never can fit in," Leonard said, "and I try so goddamn hard."
He went in search of the bathroom.
"Your friend doesn't seem to like us much," Howard said.