I think it was Bob Hope, or maybe he was paraphrasing Benny Hill.
I park a couple of blocks away in case they got cameras reading plates in the Tigon. I gotta admit I’m developing a fondness for the Caddy and every time I think on old Bent Tool I get a little tear in my eye, from holding in the laughter. I have tried hard to feel guilty about how that ended up for Benny T and the Shea-ster but whatever way I spin events in my head I come out of it clean. Those guys wanted to kill me for something they knew I had no part in. That is blatant karma-fucking and the universe dealt with them for it. I cannot wait to see what the universe does to Pablo. That prick wears string bracelets for crying out loud. You can’t wipe his slate clean by lighting a coupla joss sticks.
The Tigon lobby is packed even at this time in the morning. Lotta desperate-looking people lugging buckets of Starbucks toward the slot machines. I nod at the doorman in solidarity for the bullshit he will undoubtedly endure before end of shift then find myself a seat facing the doors.
If the parlor was still here, I’d probably order a couple of sundaes and try to push a few nostalgia buttons, but I have to make do with a Frappuccino, which looks kinda summery at least.
I don’t really expect Evelyn to show, not on the first day, and by twelve thirty I’m planning my next move when holy crap if she doesn’t walk in the front door with Pablo holding her elbow and affecting a slight mince like he isn’t a cold-blooded assassin.
I wonder does Evelyn know the kind of man Edit sends to keep an eye on her.
Ev looks good. Yet another hairdo; a pixie bob with autumn highlights (FP) and those oversized gilded shades that make her look like a very rich bug.
Evelyn has been off the street barely a week and already she’s showing a wincing disdain for the three-star Tigon. She waves Pablo into a seat by the elevator, what Zeb would call the hooker chair, then totters toward me, wobbly on high heels and gin by the smell of her when she leans in for a kiss.
“What the hell are we doing here, Danny?” she asks, sitting opposite and taking a belt from the Frappuccino.
“The sundaes? Remember?”
Evelyn’s wince grows more pronounced. “Oh, yeah. Dan the super spy.”
I am getting a frosty vibe right off. This ain’t gonna end in tears and hugs.
Maybe just tears.
“I bet you’re wondering why I brought you here today,” I say, sounding pathetic even to myself.
“Yeah, I kinda am,” says Evelyn. “I had a seaweed wrap booked and I don’t even know what the hell that is.”
Is this the real Evelyn? I remember her being funny and ballsy, but I haven’t seen much of that aunt since the reunion in Cloisters. Maybe Evelyn hasn’t been that person in a long while.
But I came here for a reason.
I blinker my face with a palm and talk behind it in case the ninja/Pablo can lip-read.
“Ev. Are you being blackmailed? Is that it?”
Ev is playing with her fingers.
Antsy.
She wants a drink.
I put my hands on hers and hold them still. “Ev. Tell me now. Are you being forced to stay with Edit and sign her papers? Did they threaten to kill me?”
Edit shudders with the effort of holding herself together, but she doesn’t answer.
I try another tack. “Don’t you remember your sister? My mother? How close we all were?”
Ev takes off her glasses with a shaky hand. “Screw you, Danny. That’s a cheap shot. Of course I remember how we were. Those days in Ireland, the three of us together. Those were the happiest days of my life. I think about those days all the time. In my mind there’s a glow over the whole thing. Like it was magic.”
This is exactly what I wanted to hear, but I don’t feel any better for hearing it.
“So what the hell is going on? I saved you.”
Ev’s eyes are the only part of her face that seem honest. There’s pain in there and a lot of mileage at the corners.
“Saved me? You delivered me to Edit.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Evelyn covers half her face with the oversized glasses.
“Right thing? Danny, right and wrong are for people with choices. I’m beyond that now. I expected to be dead in a year so I can ignore a little overeagerness on Edit’s part if it means I get to sleep in a clean bed and have some chick do my hair.”
This sounds terrible. Awful. Like the last nail in hope’s coffin.
“She tried to kill me, Ev. Those cops were gonna torture me.”
The corner of Ev’s mouth twitches. Is she smug all of a sudden?
“Yeah? And where are those cops now, Danny?”
Suddenly I am cut adrift from the last blood member of my family. Evelyn knows Krieger and Fortz are dead. It was a condition.
That’s cold.
“Aunt Evelyn. Ev. I can look after you. Edit is dangerous.”
Evelyn applies some lipstick. It is almost impossible to see her as the pungent lush I poured into my car last week. This new image is stomping down on the old one.
“Listen, Danny. I left home, went on the road, turned my back on the family. I thought that was it. Daddy would cut me off the same way he did to Margaret. Until a few months ago, I thought I was destitute. You wouldn’t believe what I did for a few bucks. I hurt people. I stole. I got with guys in bathroom stalls, Danny. For a shot of bourbon. So fuck all that, you know. Fuck it. I’m done with that life forever. And if it means that I gotta watch my back, hell I was doing that anyway.” She pats my hand. “You’re alive and I’m alive, and that’s good. So you gotta stop calling me with your Boy Scout plans. I am saved, Danny. I saved myself.” She pauses to set up the next statement. “And I saved you.”
It’s probably true.
“The bad guys are dead and the good guys live to drink another day.”
Not all the bad guys are dead. “I see you brought Pablo along.”
Ev laughs, and even her laugh is Manhattan and private schools now. “Pablo is a nightmare. He makes me do these stretches. I can barely sit down. And the latest thing is I can only drink champagne, which is pretty low in calories apparently.”
“What an asshole.”
“It’s for my own good. I want to get into a bikini this summer. Also, he drives me, I don’t have a license and even if I did I’m pretty much permanently over the legal limit.”
I smile wanly. “Everyone should have a Pablo.”
“Well, okay then,” says Ev, and I realize the meeting is over. “If I can do anything for you, Dan. Anytime. Please don’t hesitate to call.” Her head tilts in concern. “How are things with that local hoodlum, Irish Mike?”
Hoodlum? He’s been called a lot worse by his own mother.
“Mike is fine. I handled it.”
“Great, good, fab,” says Evelyn Costello, rising to her expensively shod feet. “So we see eye to eye, honey? We’re both fine and let’s just get on with things.”
Ev leans over and kisses my cheek, transferring a layer of lipstick.
“Edit and I are going to the Hamptons for a few weeks. We think it’s a good idea to get me integrated with the brunch-lunch crowd.”
“Just smile and be yourself,” I advise, but it’s all just empty words now. Just bullshit and passing time. We probably won’t ever see each other again.
“You are my family, Danny. Never forget that.”
Yeah, family. Right-o.
All I can do is nod.
I feel so depressed, like I just woke up and found my leg amputated.
Evelyn walks out of my life, a little steadier than she reentered it a week ago. You wouldn’t peg her for a drunk unless you were raised by one. She pulls her hands close to her chest the way rich folk do when they’re forced to wade among the plebs and waits for a sullen bellhop to get the door.