Schultz emerging on this landing. Four directions to go. Al’s door is southeast. Where he likes to look down his big long celebrity nose over the best part of London. Get my foot ready to stick in the door when he tries to slam it in my face. Jesus he can be such an inadvertent fucking show off. Last time we came out of this building together, his chauffeur brought up from the garage his great big long black seven passenger limousine. Al looking down from the front steps annoyed. Saying, no, not that car, the other one. The chauffeur returning a minute later in his sky blue convertible Rolls-Royce. And Al, now getting up his phony blood pressure shouting, no, no, not that car, the Aston, the Aston.
Schultz in the foyer pressing the bell. A smell of cooking. Christ mushrooms. Jesus maybe now I’m busting in on a dinner party. Couldn’t be. There’s a scent of garlic in the air. Sends Al always hysterical. About how his breath could smell. At his age he should instead be hysterical about how his prick could stay limp. If he doesn’t eat wheat germ. Feet approaching. Better now step back. Let the first roundhouse right fly harmlessly over my head.
The click of the lock turning. Which stops turning. A female voice. A tremor of caution.
“Who is it please.”
“A friend, open up.”
Door coming ajar a fraction. The side of a face and a kindly soft eye peeking out. The door opening wide.
“O goodness it’s you, Mr. Schultz.”
“Yeah me, how are you.”
“I’m fine. How are you.”
“Can I come in.”
“O sorry, yes of course, it’s simply that I wasn’t expecting anybody.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just calling out of the blue.”
“Please, do come in.”
In this white walled hallway. Schultz smilingly handing over his flowers and box of chocolates.
“These are for you. I only just popped by to see Al a second. I was in the district.”
“What beautiful flowers. And chocolates. Well dear me, how nice. These are lovely. Thank you.”
“Hey is Al still sore at me. And by the way, nothing is good enough for you honey.”
“Al isn’t here.”
“When will he be back.”
“I don’t know.”
“Holy shit honey, put your foot down, don’t let the guy go out and not know when he’s coming back.”
“He’s in New Orleans. He left yesterday.”
“Holy shit. New Orleans. The son of a bitch never told me. Sorry that’s just my friendly term for Al. What was he angry.”
“Well that wasn’t the reason he went to New Orleans. He’s giving a concert. Please, won’t you come in. And sit down. A minute.”
“Well honey, I’d like to stay for hours but this is a little awkward, Al and I left each other on kind of bad terms, maybe you heard.”
“He did say, he thought you were being difficult.”
“Holy shit honey he must have said more than that.”
“He did. Yes.”
“Well I’m hearing from everywhere all over this town what a shit I am. How touchy, how impossible. Nobody can deal with me. People threatening to sue. But I get the productions on. And so help me god this one’s closing over my dead body.”
“Please, just excuse me for a moment. I’ve got something on the stove.”
Louella turning out the door. Schultz getting to his feet and crossing the long green carpeted drawing room. Full of musical instruments, record players, speakers. A black baby grand piano. In an arched foyer the walls covered with photographs of Al with celebrity after celebrity. Singers, actresses, presidents and kings. Schultz looking out the large picture windows southwesterly over London. The lights sparkling in a great magic carpet of roofs and buildings. An aircraft slowly wheeling in over the West End, lights flashing, and long beams cutting through the sky from its wings. The streams of traffic pouring along the boulevards around the park. Rear lights red in one direction and approaching white in the other. Christ I could be happy up here like this. Looking out all over London. All those shrill emotional shrieks you hear. Are just cries about money. That a place like this costs.
“Can I get you a drink, Mr. Schultz.”
“Jesus, I better not really stay, no kidding. Al with his penchant for paranoia would get the wrong fucking idea I’m telling you.”
“Well it’s entirely up to you. I have some very marvellous sherry. Awfully nutty and rich as well as being medium dry.”
“You suddenly convinced me honey. I’ll have a sherry.”
Louella going to a cabinet along the wall. Opening up the polished walnut doors. A whole bar. Bottles reflected in the mirrors. A stainless steel sink. Al’s every modern fucking convenience laid on. Like this wonderful girl. In her same quiet clothes. Her flat heeled shoes. Brown tweed skirt and green cashmere sweater. Her legs could be better. Tiny bit heavy about the hips. Jesus everything about her could be improved. But then you look at her. And Jesus, it’s magic. She smiles for one second and you think, holy christ that’s just the way that girl ought to be.
“Jesus honey, I’m no alcoholic. That’s a big sherry.”
“Well I have heard of all your troubles you know. That you’ve been having over your show.”
“Yeah. Cliff hanging.”
“Which by the way I thought was one of the most entertaining I’ve ever seen.”
“Honey. Thanks. And let me tell you in the absolute silence up here in this, what do you call them eyrie or something, where eagles get to, way up on inaccessible mountain cliff sides, safe from predators. Well let me tell you that this sherry and just you sitting there really hits the spot. Hey what do you do, just here all by yourself up here like this.”
“O I read, sew, cook, clean and polish. Watch television. Write letters. Listen to music, eat, drink.”
“And wait.”
“Yes.”
“Till Al gets back.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus honey, old as he is, he’s absolutely in love with you.”
“I don’t consider Al old. He’s extremely young in mind and vigorous in spirit.”
“Sure. Sure. Right. Al’s a bombshell. But shit, you know, this is the first time I’ve ever really been in close contact with you. I see what he means. I wasn’t believing all his recent guff he’s been spouting about love. But Al, I can see has finally made it. With obviously one wonderful girl.”
“O please. You’re exaggerating. I’d better put on some music.”
“Honey you’re blushing.”
“Of course I am. What sort of music would you like to hear.”
“Hey why not play Al’s Palm Beach Concerto.”
Schultz stretching out on the couch. Head deep in a pillow. Sipping his sherry with a bent elbow. Louella serving squares of toast, pâté, olives and fresh celery.
“Hey Jesus I don’t want to delve into personal histories but how did you and Al ever meet.”
“Well as a matter of fact right in the next building to where you fell. He came to the office where I was working to see my boss. Looking for money for you and the prosecution, O dear I mean production.”
“Honey. Prosecution it could have been.”
“I was the receptionist.”
“Holy cow.”
“He did rather make an entrance but he was so absolutely charming.”
“But Jesus, honey, a young girl like you. I mean Al. He’s even too old to be your grandfather. You should be settling down with some guy your own age. What good is Al to you in a few years pushing him around in an oxygen tent over a wheelchair when he could blow himself up lighting a cigar.”
“That’s mean. Al is quite robust. He does have to be careful but he’s one of the sweetest kindest and most thoughtful people I have ever met. He’s always been perfectly honest. He said all he could offer me was the rest of his life, for just a few years of mine.”