“Who the Christ is coming around knocking on my door at two in the morning?” He tried to get up, but Sadie said, “I’ll get it.”
She moved over to the door, put the chain on, opened it a crack, said, “My God!” and closed the door long enough to take the chain off and swing it open wide. Standing there, a scuffed black leather one-suiter case in his left hand was a tall young man, around twenty-six or twenty-seven, with old sad, wise eyes that were a startlingly pale blue, a white grin that belonged to a merry six-year-old, and a tan that a Miami lifeguard might have envied.
The young man put the suitcase down, cried, “Mommie!” in a deep baritone and took Sadie in his arms and kissed her on the mouth with what began as mock passion, but which was almost beginning to turn into something more when he released her. He turned from her to the still seated Cubbin whose face was now brightened by a genuine smile of pleasure. “And dear old Dad, God’s gift to the hard hats. How are you, my father? Back on the sauce, I see.”
Cubbin stopped smiling his delighted smile only long enough to take a deep swallow of his drink. Goddamn, he’s a good-looking bastard, Cubbin thought, and then said, “It’s past two in the morning. What the hell are you doing here?”
The young man waved an arm at the hotel room. “Why, Dad, I’ve come home.” He turned to Fred Mure who was also grinning. “And Filthy Fred Mure, our own Stepin Fetchit. How are you, Freddie?”
Mure moved quickly to the young man and stuck out his hand. “Jesus, Kelly, it’s good to see you. Let me getcha a drink.”
Kelly Cubbin, his father’s only child, smiled at Mure and said, “Just tell me where it is, Fred. I can get it.”
“Hell, no. What’re you drinking, Scotch?”
“If you’ve got it.”
“Sure,” Mure said and hurried from the room to the bedroom where the bottles and glasses were kept out of the sight of visitors. Mure kept them out of sight because he felt that it wasn’t dignified to have them sitting around when visitors came. “They might get the wrong idea,” he told Cubbin.
“All right, let’s have it,” Cubbin said to his son, his words slurring a little.
“Have what, chief?”
“You’re supposed to be in Washington. You’re supposed to be on the job there. What the hell you doing in Chicago? I didn’t ask you to come to Chicago.”
“And I thought you’d be glad to see me. My, it is a wise child who can predict his own father.”
“Hell, I’m glad to see you, Kelly. You know I’m glad to see you. But Christ, you’re supposed to be in Washington, working and—”
Kelly turned his back on his father and looked at Sadie. He lifted one eyebrow questioningly and she nodded slightly. Kelly turned back to his father. He studied him for a few moments and said, “Father, dear Father, drink up because whatever I tell you tonight, I’ll simply have to say all over again tomorrow.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Cubbin said.
“I mean you’re soused and you won’t remember tomorrow.” He turned back to Sadie. “Have you got a place for me?”
“Sure, honey. Take room E, it’s the last one down the hall.”
“What brought this on?” Kelly said, moving his head slightly toward his father.
She shrugged. “The campaign, I suppose. He’ll go along fine for three or four days and then — bang. He dives back in a bottle.”
“Just because I’ve had a few little drinks,” Cubbin said, starting to rise. “Just because I might have had a drink or two, just because I might have done that, well, it’s no reason why you have to talk about me like I wasn’t even here.”
Kelly moved over and gently pushed his father back into the chair. “Relax, chief, you’re fading.”
Cubbin started to struggle out of his chair again but sank back unprotestingly at another gentle shove from his son. “I don’t understand,” he muttered.
Fred Mure came into the room again and handed Kelly a drink. “Thanks, Fred,” Kelly said and looked down at his father. He smiled at him but the merriment had gone from the smile. It was replaced by a mixture of sad affection and amused concern. He should never have gone for it this time, Kelly thought. He should have retired and let them fight over it. He doesn’t want it anymore because it bores him. I wonder how long it’s bored him.
“You’re looking good, sir,” he said.
Cubbin peeped up at him, a little shyly. “I think I might have had a couple too many today,” he said, waving his glass around.
“Well, it happens.”
“Yeah, well what happened to you?”
“I was placed on administrative leave. That was after the hearing.”
“What hearing?”
“About my attitude.”
“What about it?”
“It wasn’t quite what they had in mind.”
Cubbin looked at his son, focusing his eyes on the lean, tanned face and his mind on what was being said. Both took a lot of effort. “They tied the can to you, didn’t they?” Cubbin said.
“They did indeed.”
“Why, Kelly?” Sadie said.
Kelly shrugged.
“Well, hell, I can fix that tomorrow,” Cubbin said. “I can make one little phone call and fix that.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You want your job back?” Cubbin said. “I’ll get it back for you.”
“I don’t think Kelly wants it back, darling,” Sadie said.
“You don’t want it back?” Cubbin said sleepily, his words slurring badly now.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Whyn’t you want it back?” Cubbin said and let his chin sink toward his chest. Fred Mure moved quickly across the room and took the half-empty glass from Cubbin’s fingers.
Kelly Cubbin stood looking down at his father for a few moments. Then he drained his drink and turned toward Sadie and Fred Mure. “You need any help with him?”
“No, he’ll walk it by himself,” Mure said.
“Then I’ll see him in the morning and we can go through it again.”
“Give Kelly the key to room E,” Sadie said to Mure.
Mure fished in his pocket, took out a handful of room keys, selected one and handed it to Kelly.
“Thanks,” Kelly said. He turned toward Sadie. “How’s it look for him?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Not good.”
“You mean he might win?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid he might.”
“You shouldn’t say that, Sadie,” Mure said. “Don’s gonna win okay and everything’s gonna be fine.”
Kelly and his stepmother exchanged glances and then Kelly smiled at Fred Mure. “Sure he will, Fred. I’ll see you both in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night,” they said.
When Kelly had gone, Fred Mure went over to Donald Cubbin and bent down close to his ear. “Mr. Cubbin, the President will see you now,” he bellowed.
Cubbin sat up with a start. “What... what... where?”
“This way, Mr. Cubbin,” Mure bellowed again.
Cubbin rose easily, turned, and guided by Mure headed toward the bedroom door. He walked normally, even purposefully. Mure guided him into the room and over to the bed. “Let me take your coat, Mr. Cubbin,” he yelled in Cubbin’s ear.
Cubbin let Mure slip the bathrobe from his shoulders. “Just get in here, Mr. Cubbin,” Mure yelled again, helping Cubbin to sit on the turned-down twin bed. Cubbin’s eyes were closed now and he made no protest as Mure lifted up his feet and swung them onto the bed. Sadie watched from the doorway as Fred Mure drew the bed covers up over Cubbin.
“Better turn him on his side, Fred.” she said, slipping out of her robe. “He sometimes chokes when he’s on his back.”
Mure rolled the unprotesting Cubbin over on his left side so that he faced the wall. Then Mure started to unknot his own tie. “Are you all right, Mr. Cubbin?” he said in a indent tone. Cubbin only sighed deeply.