Schultz stripping off his clothes. Running along his little hall into the bathroom. Popping in under the shower. Fight, team, fight. Splash chill water on prick and balls. Revive them. To fuck another day. Wrap up in the big warm white bath towels heaped on the towel rail. Cotton tips to dry in the ears. Comb hair in the mirror. Lean in closer. O no. One. Two. Three. Four. Christ. Five. Jesus. Six. Fucking new grey hairs.
Schultz draped in towels as the waiter brought tea. Setting it up in the sitting room’s bow shaped window. Gaze out through the branches of the trees at the backs of Mayfair town houses. Christ, although I’m still feeling I’m still dying, at least a cup of china tea with lemon, smoked salmon and brown bread and a piece of pineapple pastry will take the edge off my appetite till I get to heaven.
“The evening papers sir, were outside your door.”
“Thanks. I’ve seen them.”
“Terrible isn’t it, this massacre in Africa.”
“Yeah.”
“Is there anything else sir.”
“No this is swell thanks.”
Schultz shaking a fist at the newspapers on the side table. Suddenly focusing an eye at a new emblazoned headline.
COUP IN ZUMZIMZAMGAZI
The Zumzimzamgazi army assisted by invading troops of His Royal Imperial Majesty, Field Marshal King Buggybooiamcheesetoo, overthrew the government of Zumzimzamgazi in a sudden coup last night. His Imperial Majesty vehemently denies giving any aid to the new military regime.
Schultz putting down his tea cup. Picking it up again. And putting it down. My hands trembling. Jesus the behemoth and wife at dawn this morning were threatening to go live in royal cheesy buggy-boo’s palace. Take my unborn child with them. To be raised by a fucking bunch of blacks killing each other fighting over snake infested jungles. Like hell they will. Abduct part of my flesh and blood back into primitive society. Fucking around with that big charcoal sambo joke in Africa.
But holy Jesus this. O no. The Ambassador. Holy christ. The poor fucker must have got it in the neck. I never even this morning turned to look up at his windows where he was usually watching when I’m having a disturbance of the peace on my steps. He was becoming one of the last comforts and true friends I had in my life. This is really curtain time. Holy shit. I can’t cry now. In the middle of tea. Got to make rules. Rule one. Keep going Jackson. Rule two. Don’t read newspapers no more. Rule three. Put one foot in front of the other. Four. Fuck the cost. Get on the phone and get a limousine. Five. Get outside into living life. Rule five and a half. Don’t fucking trip on carpets or get garments caught in revolving doors. And even though I was a child prodigy with my prick.
Rule six
Don’t screw
Horror and sex
Don’t mix
26
In a misty soft drizzle of rain Schultz’s limousine purring past the street lamps on The Carriage Road alongside Hyde Park. The big evening lit dining rooms of the hotel. Turning down Sloane Street and left right between the red brick buildings of Knightsbridge.
Lady Lullabyebaby stepping into the lobby from the lift of this sedate block of flats as Schultz came in. Sweeping forward in a long blue dress past the doorman rushing before her to open the doors.
“Ah now milady, you have a good time tonight.”
“Thank you Alfredo.”
“Ah milady this is your gentleman, right.”
“Yes, Alfredo. This is my gentleman.”
Schultz’s chauffeur smilingly opening the limousine door. Lady Lullabyebaby ensconcing herself far back in the upholstery, taking in a deep breath and exhaling a great sigh.
“Well honey, you’re on time to the split second.”
“I abhor lateness, Mr. Schultz.”
Speeding along Piccadilly. Past the clubs. By the luggage and food emporiums. Around the circus. Across Leicester Square. The lights. The buskers. People everywhere. Buying tickets at box offices. And Lady Lullabyebaby lighting up a cigarette in a long ivory holder.
“Well Mr. Schultz, I’ll say one thing for you. You do know how to appear out of the blue.”
Ascending the soft carpeted steps. An usherette unlocking the door to their box. Schultz ordering champagne for the interval. As the curtain rose and the dancers pirouetted and arabesqued. And Schultz fell promptly asleep. His head hung over on his shoulder as he snored. To be shoved awake by her Ladyship.
“My god Mr. Schultz, sleep, but please don’t snore.”
“Holy christ honey, sorry. Went out like a light. The beauty of the dancing and music just carried me straight off to dreamland.”
“Mr. Schultz, I don’t think, do you, that we should remain present at the ballet.”
“I’ll be alright honey. I’m wide awake now.”
Schultz through the crescendoes, leaps and slides falling promptly to sleep once more. His elbow sliding off the arm rest as he slumped in his chair. Lady Lullabyebaby, knuckles sharp, punching him awake again in the ribs. At the interval Schultz taking a walk down to the lobby.
“Honey I’m sorry, I really am. I haven’t slept for days. You stay I’ll go home.”
“No. We’ll both go.”
Schultz on the sidewalk looking for his chauffeur and car. Beginning to slam the heel of his hand against his forehead, as Lady Lullabyebaby pointed with her finger.