“You can afford it.”
“I can afford it. With your mother and the champagne caviar. What are you, crazy honey. I can’t even afford to take a shit at this fucking time of my life.”
“Your constant awful language.”
“That’s right. And what’s more it’s going to stay constant. Hey Jesus don’t start crying. What is it with you. You think money grows on trees.”
“You live in this big house. You go to all the best places. You know all the best people.”
“I live here and go to the best places because I fucking well have to. I’m a producer for Christ’s sake. I got to keep up a big front. And I don’t know nobody who wouldn’t shit all over me the second my back’s to the wall. And stop fucking well crying will you.”
“I don’t feel well.”
“Tough tit.”
“You’re the most inconsiderate person I think I have ever met. And I feel I’m going to faint.”
“Faint for christ’s sake, there’s tons of room. And padding under the carpet. Only don’t knock anything over. Like the phone.”
“I didn’t knock it over. You did.”
“Honey it was you making me nervous coming in the fucking door with the packages.”
“I’ve given you dedicated weeks of my life. I’ve given you the greatest gift a woman can give a man. I’ve given you my body.”
“And it took long enough to get too.”
“How dare you say that.”
“So O.K. you gave me a gift, your body. O.K. and I already said thanks. But you’re giving me a fucking headache now honey.”
Schultz bending over. Brushing a whorl of carpet wool from his knee. When the slap landed. Just as the packages hit the floor. His face spun around by the sting. The burn of fingernails digging in his cheeks. The feel of sticky blood on his fingertips.
“Jesus you bitch you fucking well clawed me. Right on top of what your fucking mother already did.”
“And that’s not all I’ll do. You horrid mean person you.”
“Goodbye honey. Get you, your dresses, your suitcases and your ass and get the fuck out of here. And for the last time. Leave me to enjoy my fucking life. That I was enjoying. Before you showed up.”
Pricilla rushing up the stairs. Schultz standing scratching his head. Until he saw the boxes on the floor and started kicking them ceiling high all over the hall. Pricilla, rushing back down the stairs, jumped on his shoulders, her fingers sinking locked in his hair and tugging him over backwards on to the floor. As the phone rang.
“Jesus let go for christ’s sake it’s the phone, this time of evening it could be an important call from Hollywood you bitch, let go.”
“Fuck your bloody stupid Hollywood. Kicking my dresses like that.”
Schultz knocked on his back got one hand loose and with an almighty right hook his fist caught Pricilla on the jaw laying her backwards unconscious across his legs. Schultz tugging the ringing phone off the table, catching the instrument before it hit the floor and holding his distinctly loosened hair and scalp with one hand and the telephone with the other.
“Schultz is this you.”
“Yes. Who’s this.”
“My god. I’ve been trying to ring you for the last twenty minutes. This is Basil Nectarine. What have you done with my motor car.”
“Nothing.”
“The police Schultz are looking for it. All over London. They say it kidnapped someone.”
“It kidnapped nobody.”
“Where is the car Schultz.”
“It’s taking the cast and my Director, Author, Choreographer and Composers home.”
“O my god.”
“What the fuck’s the matter.”
“Well they could all be arrested.”
“Holy shit.”
“And Hubert gets awfully upset when things go wrong.”
“Jesus. Hubert you worry about. When my whole show could be in jail.”
Schultz reaching to pick up his sunglasses. Putting them on as he lay back staring at the ceiling. In the middle of triumph. Here I am on my fucking back in the middle of chaos. Four hundred and eighteen pounds. Add that to the rest of my bills. Jesus christ add it to everything. As well as Oriental Venereal Plague put on my bill of health. And my whole production imprisoned. But what a beautiful punch it was. Be the first time she’s ever really fainted unconscious. A minute of silence is bliss. All the dead weight of her on my legs. She’s still breathing. But what’s that sound. Of dripping.
Schultz shoving Pricilla. Levering her off with his upraised knees as she rolled over and he pulled out his feet Schultz crawling a few paces and jumping up. Rushing into the library. To see the ceiling billowing downwards with water pouring and dripping over tables and bookcases.
“Jesus fucking christ now I need a rowboat in the house.”
Schultz rushing out and up the stairs and into the bathroom. All taps on. The basin, the bidet and the tub overflowing with water. The once beige carpet several shades deeper and squelching underfoot. Schultz turning off the taps and throwing towels around the floor which merely sank soaked into the deluge. The front bell ringing as Schultz closed the bathroom door where water was pouring out into the hall. And at the top of the stairs holding wet hands up over his eyes.
“I should need a flood right at this time of my existence. This fucking bitch is just ruining my life completely by gradual degrees.”
Schultz step by slow step down the stairs. The inert body of Pricilla stretched on her back hands upturned. The smell of burning. One dress box stuck on top of the shade of the table lamp where it had landed kicked by Schultz’s foot. And the doorbell still ringing.
“Jesus, who now is at the door. Wearing out the bell. Hold it will you, I’m coming.”
Schultz opening the door. Stepping back to await the blue uniforms and tall helmets of the London Metropolitan Police to come enquiring in about a kidnap. Instead of the irate red flushed face of Al in heather colored tweeds and bright orange tie. To enquire about a knockout. And whose taxi was just pulling away in the street.
“For christ’s sake Al it’s you.”
“You’re god damn right it’s me.”
“Jesus Al I’m busy. I got a flood. Don’t come in. Can you come around later.”
Al pushing past Schultz. The wind blowing through the hall and slamming the front door closed, trembling and tinkling the crystal chandelier. As Al wide eyed with horror and hands raised elbowed Schultz aside.
“Hey what the hell happened.”
“Take it easy Al. She fainted. She does it all the time. Like I told you.”
“Why you dirty no good son of a bitch. She’s got blood on her lip. You hit her.”
“I did like hell hit her Al.”
“You fucking hit her. Look at this. She looks dead. Her jaw and lip bruised. Blood.”
“She jumped on me from behind. I’m telling you, she’s a wildcat. And don’t worry she’s alive.”
“You son of a bitch. Come on. Pick on me. A man. Why don’t you. Go ahead. I’m taking the glasses off. Put your fists up.”
“I’m not going to fight you Al. And all your mid west morals. You’re a generation older. I could physically kill you.”
“You just try it. Let’s see you. With your diseased prick. You contaminate the girl. Then you hit her. Come on. Put em up.”
“Al come on, act your age. I got my whole cast and show out in a car in London at this second with the whole police force after them.”
“You got clap that’s what you got.”
“Don’t shout that out Al it was confidential.”
“Confidential. It’s clap. It’s contagious.”
“I got neighbors for Christ’s sake. Keep your voice down.”
“You no good shit, you no good dirty shit. And hey watch where you’re stepping on the girl.”