“Hey where the fuck is his Lordship.”
“Ah good afternoon Schultz. May I just pause here for a moment and look at you. With your packages under your arm. Yes indeed. Certain words in an under rehearsed manner come immediately to mind of a biblical bent, albeit, to wit, lay not up for yourself treasure upon earth where moth and dust doth corrupt and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourself treasure in heaven where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt and where thieves, Schultz, do not break through and steal.”
“Come on you bastard, don’t do this to me. There’s not even seconds to lose.”
“Read that awe inspiring quote in this morning’s newspaper. Heading the agony column it was. I was most touched. And right underneath it Schultz, in the same column was another insertion, instantly reminding me of you. Which read, St. Jude help me, please never let it happen again.”
“Binky come on, I’m begging you. Don’t fuck around. I got the figures here. We can just buy enough seats to bring the gross up to keep the theatre. I got everybody ready to go start buying. Why don’t you kick off, put up a thousand.”
“Schultz I do appreciate the splendid effort you’re making. But I do think it would do my miserly blood awful insult to lose one further penny.”
“Who’s talking about losing. You could make.”
“Having already sentimentally and foolishly bought back, at a substantial discount of course, the piece of the show I so wisely sold to Gayboy, I could Schultz, like you, be far away up shit’s creek. Without, as you say, an outboard engine. Now why don’t you Schultz very softly and briefly just bounce a cheque.”
“I’m not going to bounce a cheque, you fucker. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Everybody is demanding cash paid for everything. I’m telling you, Binky. The show’s building. Believe me. You can see yourself. We did triple the business on a Wednesday night that we did on last Saturday.”
“And of course Schultz, we did fuck all on last Saturday.”
“Hey what are you Binky, a saboteur. Here, some silk handkerchiefs for you. Of all fucking varieties.”
“Ah I must say, how nice Schultz. My aren’t they nice. And may I select.”
“Select, sure. Anything you want. Here have this one too.”
“I’ve already taken four, Schultz.”
“You’ve taken five, but who’s counting.”
“Ah Schultz, to be sure, I have. How mistaken of me. This is indeed the age of misgiving. Schultz such nice things as these could have brought joy to the Pygmies is the days when one was on safari there. As indeed these will now do so nicely as a spot of color to enliven the tableau of a shooting party knocking the woodcock out of the sky.”
“Shit. Stop. Fuck the haberdashery. Let’s go. Let’s go. Fuck misgiving. Fuck tableaus. This is the moment of life and death with no god damn room left for giving or misgiving.”
“Yes Schultz I do see your point. I believe Gayboy is desperately trying to get the theatre back to give to another show.”
“The son of a bitch is never going to get me out of there.”
“Now Schultz as one father to be, to another, let me invite you to a little seance this afternoon to relax you.”
“I’ll be hysterical till the banks close at three o’clock and I don’t get the money to keep this production open.”
“Ah at four then. A little tea will be served. It’s rather in the way of a small intimate at home by myself away from home that I’m having.”
His Lordship appearing in the doorway. In a crumpled blue suit. His jacket open, tie loose at his collar. Flecks of mud on his shoes. Soup stains on his lapels, and blond hairy hairs curling on his belly exposed by two missing shirt buttons.
“Holy shit, at fucking long last. Jesus your Lordship, what’s wrong with talking to me on the phone. What took you so long away all these days. With me having kittens.”
“Schultz. If you must know. I’ve been buying cattle. And you. Never mind kittens, with all those handkies. Stand right where you are. Don’t come an inch further near me.”
“Why, what’s wrong. Have I got the oriental clap plague again.”
“You may have but I am more concerned with something much worse indicated by the look you are wearing.”
“What look.”
“Schultz you have the look of a man looking for money.”
“Holy shit. What gives you this idea.”
“The idea is given to me Schultz by the unmistakable expression on your face. And the overwhelming aura of desperation.”
“I’m not desperate.”
“You should be. As I think Schultz that shortly, if you are not extremely careful, you will take a slide down a very nasty slope indeed. Roxana has still not been found.”
“Holy jeeze, don’t look at me, your Lordship.”
“Don’t feign innocence Schultz. I prefer you looking desperate.”
“O.K. I am. I’m desperate. On my ass down the slope. Anything you say.”
“And what I say Schultz is close the production.”
“O Jesus, you don’t understand, there’s just a fraction of a gap left to reach the gross to keep the theatre.”
“Schultz that’s nonsense. The production account is at this moment overdrawn by six thousand seven hundred and eighty four pounds eighteen shillings and nine pence. By this time tomorrow it will be overdrawn by another thousand. Plus another fifty or sixty pounds while you, my dear Schultz, are living at the Dorchester.”
“Everybody else I guarantee, is now kicked out of there. But Jesus I got to live in dignity somewhere. It’s money, just money, you talk like it was flesh and blood or something.”
“I talk Schultz as the guarantor to the bank.”
“O.K. O.K. That’s what I mean. Everybody is already going to lose. And that’s exactly certain what’s going to happen if we close. Look what I’ve done already. Advance booking has quadrupled. Daily business has tripled, and building every second. From nothing, from disaster.”
“Schultz stop eating your fingers off. And wearing the carpet out. And also writing your anti blood sports letters.”
“Your Lordship my lips are sealed forever. I’m behind foxhunting one hundred per cent from now on. I’ll even go further. You put up enough money to buy enough seats to cover the show and I swear I’ll get myself rigged out on a fucking horse and go foxhunting with you.”
“Done.”
“Holy shit, your Lordship, what are you saying.”
“I said done.”
“You really fucking mean it.”
“Schultz you are a circus.”
“I’m anything you say your Lordship. But please. No jokes. Jesus you mean it.”
“Schultz I said, done. For the third time.”
“O.K. O.K. I’m on my way right now to get riding lessons and have a pink coat made. Hot diggity dog, Jesus you bastard I could kiss you.”
“Schultz please don’t. And for the time being it will have to be a black coat you must wear hunting. And if you would wipe that hot diggity dog look off your face, someone is not only going to have to go to the bank with a satchel but someone is also going to have to go and buy tickets.’
“I’ve got him. His name’s Padio O’Kelly and he’s waiting right in the next room.”
“Schultz you really are a flying circus aren’t you.”
“Holy cow, now begins what I hope is the last horror.”
“Yes Schultz, because if you get caught doing this, it’s fraud.”
“What’s fraud about buying complimentary seats and keeping the theatre alive and kicking and actors, musicians and dancers in jobs.”
“It could be construed Schultz that it is a conspiracy to breach a contract.”
Binky lighting up a cigar. His chin raised and eye lashes fluttering, beaming one of his best smiles.