I smirked at the stupid name. “Who?”
Mr. de Floon wasn’t used to being ridiculed. His mouth did a little tight dance. His hands stopped dancing altogether. “Corn Bob. He had a submission hold called the corncob.”
Usually I like liars because they make life more zippy, but Floon had already rubbed me so much the wrong way that he could have passed for a piece of sandpaper. “You’re full of shit.”
Our corner of the universe suddenly got exceedingly quiet. Floon’s eyelids flared but he said nothing. The only thing in my mind was how was I going to discover anything here if I keep pissing people off?
He rubbed his nose. “You don’t believe there was a wrestler named Corn Bob?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Do you know why I like you, Frannie?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the only one who talks back to me. The only one who has the balls to do it.”
The tension went out of his voice and out of the air. People in our group who had heard looked at me with either admiration or envy.
“What was the name of Buster Brown’s dog in the shoe ad?”
He wasn’t going to quit, but I’d had enough. “Tyge. Look, I’ve got a question about something else—where did this feather on your logo come from? I see it everywhere.”
“Ha ha. And I’m supposed to address that question seriously?”
“Yes, I’d like to know.”
“You’d like to know where the Floon feather comes from?” He waited long enough to realize I was serious. “Frannie, you’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
To my surprise, instead of answering he snapped his fingers a few times to catch someone’s attention. Quickly a very pretty young woman in the gypsy dress appeared. “Nora, I think Mr. McCabe is feeling a little floaty this morning. He’s having some trouble remembering. Perhaps you can help. Frannie, you’ve met Nora Putnam? She’s our resident doctor on this trip.”
“Do you feel dizzy or light-headed, sir?”
“Floon, answer my question: Where does the feather come from?”
“You know where it comes from.”
“Remind me.”
Dr. Putnam reached out to touch me but thought better of it and dropped her hand. “We can go right over there and sit down, Mr. McCabe. The Viennese John wind is blowing today and sometimes that affects people physically in strange ways.” “Leave me alone. Floon—”
Seeing something over my shoulder, everything about him went rigid. It was astonishing. From sweet concern to whole-body fury in two seconds. “What is she doing?”
Both the doctor and I turned to see what had him in such a twist. We had to—his anger was beyond belief. I saw the same flock of people moving around and talking in the lobby. What -was Floon’s problem? As I was about to turn back to ask what the hell was going on, I caught a glimpse of Susan in her nice blue dress walking toward us.
“Where is her costume? Why isn’t she wearing it?”
“She didn’t want to.”
“Didn’t want to? That’s interesting. Susan didn’t want to wear my dress?” Floon spat this at Dr. Putnam, who winced and looked like she wanted to run far away. Next he gave me the X-ray glare. “I owe you a great deal, Frannie. Without you my life would have been very different. But you’re here and so is your wife. You accepted my invitation. All that I asked in return was that you do a few things for me in the proper spirit. This is not the proper spirit.”
“Good morning.” Susan arrived smiling and it didn’t change when she saw Floon’s flaming look. She wore a nice perfume that lifted me.
“Where is your dress, Susan? Is there a problem with it?”
“No, Caz, I just don’t look good in it. I didn’t think you would mind.”
“I mind very much.”
I’m sorry.
“You can still go put it on. We have time.” “I don’t want to put it on, Caz.” “Sure you do, go ahead. I’ll hold breakfast for you.” “She doesn’t want to put it on, Floon, so why don’t you drop it?”
“Thank you, Frannie.” It was the first time Susan had smiled at me.
“I don’t think I want to wear this either, come to think of it.” I took off the suit jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then I began working the knot of the tie loose.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking off my clothes. Taking off your clothes.” The knot wouldn’t come undone. I tugged harder. When it wouldn’t budge I said screw it and reached down to the belt buckle. I liked the idea of standing naked in front of Caz and his guests. Susan in her taboo blue dress, me in my wrinkled birthday suit.
Floon bellowed “Gus!” and out of nowhere Mr. Gould appeared.
“Can I help?”
“Get them out of here. Out of my sight! I will not let them ruin anything. This is my trip! I’ve planned it for too long.”
“Now Caz—”
Floon shook his head once and walked away. I warbled “Bye!” to his back.
Susan laughed. “Do you think he’ll write a note to my parents?”
Gus didn’t think any of it was funny. “This is not good Susan. You made a really big mistake.”
“I don’t think so. Come on, husband. Looks like we have a free day together in Vienna.”
I picked the jacket up off the floor. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Gus tried to stop us. “Please don’t go. Maybe if I talk to him we can work this out—”
Susan took my hand. “I don’t want to work it out, Gus. I’m not guilty of anything. Dinner tonight is on that boat cruise around the Danube, right? And we can wear what we want? So we’ll meet you down there. I think Frannie and I need some downtime from Floon and this whole trip.” She started us toward the revolving front door.
Dr. Putnam asked, “But Mr. McCabe, I thought you were feeling ill?”
“I’ll survive. The only thing I’m sure of is today I don’t have to worry about dying.”
We walked down a beautiful, wide tree-lined street for a long time without talking. It was a nice day. The trees were in full bloom, and even the many cars passing nearby seemed more quiet than usual when there’s a lot of traffic. Susan had her arm linked in mine. I figured it was best to keep quiet until she spoke.
I kept busy looking for signs of what life would be like thirty (?) years on. Clothes looked more or less the same, although occasionally someone passed wearing an outfit like the costumes kids wore in the futuristic music videos Pauline watched on MTV. Cars were sleek and generally small—I rarely saw a big honker like a Mercedes or a BMW. When enough had passed, I realized they were so quiet because no exhaust was coming out of the tail pipes. There were no tail pipes. Without thinking I said to myself, “Electric.”
“Hmmm?”
“Nothing.”
“Frannie, what did that woman mean when she asked if you were feeling ill?”
A man walked by wearing a black plastic helmet over his entire head. And there didn’t seem to be any place for him to see out the front. But he walked straight ahead and didn’t bump into anything.
“What’s with that guy?”
Susan gave him only the briefest glance. “He’s studying.” “Studying? With a bowling ball on his head?” “Don’t change the subject, Frannie. Aren’t you feeling okay?” Ding-Dong! The whole solution came to me in a flash. I knew exactly how to find out what I needed to know. “Can we sit down a minute?”
Park benches were conveniently placed along the way. We walked to the next one where I sat down slowly and heavily, giving out a midsized groan for added effect. After a few beats I took her hand. “Susan, I have to tell you something. It’s the real reason why what happened this morning—”
“You mean in bed?”
“Yes, that’s part of it. I didn’t want to tell you because, well, because it scares me and I didn’t want it to scare you too. Especially while we were on this trip.”