“Miz Leary,” Mr. Perez said, “how you feeling, dear?”
Denise made a sound or mumbled something, burrowing into the pillow, that Ryan couldn’t hear.
“That’s a shame, little girl taking sick. Honey, look at me. I got something for you.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Denise said, barely moving her mouth, eyes still closed.
Mr. Perez said, “Is that nice?”
“I guess she talks like that,” Ryan said, “when she’s been drinking. You should’ve heard her before.”
Mr. Perez nudged her gently. “I’d just like you to sign these papers, little girl, then you can sleep long as you want.”
Denise asked him, slurring the words just right, why he didn’t fuck off and leave her alone and get his ass off the bed. Mr. Perez looked over his shoulder. As Raymond came in, Mr. Perez said, “Sit her up,” losing some of his sweetness.
Between them they got her upright, leaning heavily against Raymond, her legs doubled under her beneath the raincoat. Raymond pulled the collar of the raincoat out a little, trying to look inside. Mr. Perez put the pen in her hand.
“Pull the table over.”
Raymond grabbed the night table with one hand and gave it a jerk to bring it over in front of them, letting the lamp with the glass chimney fall and shatter to the floor. Denise opened her eyes.
“What’re you doing? Hey, for Christ’s sake-”
“There she is,” Mr. Perez said. “Got your little eyes open?”
Ryan went over and began picking up the pieces of broken glass, listening to Mr. Perez’s sweet words.
“That’s a good girl, hold the pen. There. Now, see those papers? Right in front of you on the table. All you got to do is sign your name where you see the little Xs. Precious, you see them? Down there at the bottom. Write ‘Denise L. Leary.’ You don’t have to worry having it notarized, I’ll get that done for you.” To Raymond he said, “Take her hand and put it there.”
Raymond tried to. Denise pulled her hand away and let the pen drop to the floor.
“Get it, Raymond.”
Ryan stood up, carefully holding the pieces of broken glass. As he started out, Mr. Perez was saying, “Now, let’s try it again. Come on, sugar, you can do it. Hold the pen. That’s it.”
In the kitchen Ryan opened the cupboard beneath the sink and dropped the glass fragments into the trash basket.
“Goddamn it, sign the goddamn thing! Now!”
Ryan tensed. In the silence that followed, he let himself relax. He lit a cigarette, then took the tin paper and screw-top off the fifth of Gallo on the counter. He was in the living room when Mr. Perez and Raymond came out. Ryan looked at the papers in Mr. Perez’s hand.
“She sign them?”
“She can’t see to pee straight,” Mr. Perez said.
“Goddamn drunken woman. There’s nothing worse than a drunk woman.”
Ryan stepped aside to let Mr. Perez walk over to his attachй case on the counter.
“Maybe when she sobers up a little,” Ryan said.
“I swear, all I been doing on this one is waiting. Waiting to find her, waiting for her to make up her mind, waiting for her to sober up.” He dropped the papers into the open case.
“I was thinking,” Ryan said, “she starts to come around she’s gonna want a drink, glass of wine. So let’s say I give her about a half a glass. Then when she wants some more, dying for it, I say, Okay, but you got to sign some papers first. I think, the condition she’s in, it’ll work.”
Mr. Perez turned a little to look at Ryan. “You’re betting thirty thousand dollars it works. If it doesn’t, I don’t see I’ll need you anymore.”
Ryan shrugged, showing he was at ease. “It’s okay with me. I never intended making a career out of this. Give me till about noon and I’ll call you.”
“Maybe it won’t take that long,” Mr. Perez said. “Maybe, but I think a couple of hours the way she’s sleeping,” Ryan said. “Let her dry out a little, she’ll wake up dying of thirst.”
“Well, Raymond and I could wait around for that matter.” Mr. Perez was playing with him now.
Ryan shrugged again, as though it didn’t matter. “It’s up to you,” he said, “you want to sit around.”
“Or I could leave Raymond.”
“You decide what you’re going to do,” Ryan said. He was tense and had to move. He walked around into the kitchen and turned the burner on under the kettle. “You want some coffee?”
“No, I guess we’ll leave it in your hands,” Mr. Perez said, taking the papers out of the attachй case and laying them on the counter. “Two copies of the agreement, two giving us power of attorney. It won’t hurt to get them both signed, and the copies.” Mr. Perez picked up his case and started out. “You’ll be sure and call me, now.”
“The minute she signs,” Ryan said. “You got my word.”
Denise sat up as she heard the door close. She was scuffing her feet into her sandals when Ryan came in, looking at the papers.
“What does it say?”
“Wait-‘We believe you are the legal owner of assets you are entitled to receive.’” He paused. “No, this is the agreement.” He looked at the other typewritten form. “‘I, Denise L. Leary, hereby appoint Francis X. Perez’-I love that, named after Saint Francis Xavier, the son of a bitch. This is it.” Ryan looked through the form quickly, then read it slowly, every word, before shaking his head.
“What?” Denise said.
“No company or stock name. The spaces are blank.” He dropped the papers on the bed. Denise didn’t pick them up or even look at them.
Ryan walked over to the window. He looked out at the wet asphalt of the parking area that was empty except for a few cars. His light-blue Catalina stood alone near the entrance. It was quiet in the bedroom.
“They didn’t have to break my lamp.”
Ryan was thinking, Get in the car and go.
There was silence.
“Look, I don’t care,” Denise said. “If I don’t sign, then he doesn’t get anything either, does he? So why don’t we let it go at that? I’m tired and I really don’t care one way or the other. Really. I’d just as soon forget the whole thing. Shit, everything.”
There was silence again for at least a minute, maybe a little longer.
Ryan turned from the window. He said, “Pack a bag, a suitcase.”
Denise looked up at him. “Why?”
“Come on, pack something and let’s get out of here.”
19
THEY WENT TO FLORIDA. Ryan was going to drive, but changed his mind heading south on 75 and made the turn to Detroit Metropolitan, got them seats on a Delta flight to Lauderdale and a Budget Rent a Car to Pompano Beach, a Pinto without air, and by seven o’clock that evening they were in an efficiency at the Vista Del Mar with groceries, new bathing outfits, thongs, and Coppertone, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean.
“There,” Ryan said. “No more thinking for a week. Whoever mentions Perez or the stock or anything connected with it has to put five bucks in the kitty.”
Denise looked around the room, from the picture window to the flowered rattan chairs to the twin beds, against opposite walls, that featured tailored beige spreads and bolsters that disguised them as sofas. Forty-five dollars a day including color TV and the ocean view. What more could you want? Ryan said.
Denise said, “What I’d like more than anything is a glass of wine.”
Ryan went into the kitchen and dug into a grocery bag. He came back out with a bottle of Blue Nun and two jelly glasses.
“You mean it?” Denise said.
“If the corkscrew works,” Ryan said. He took it out of his coat pocket.
Denise watched him twist it into the cork. “You’re gonna have one, too?”
“So you won’t have to drink alone,” Ryan said. He got the cork out. Pouring the wine, he said, “It’s not cold, though.”
“I don’t care.” She took the glass he offered, with yellow daisies on it, and said, “Jesus, I don’t believe it.” Then took a drink and closed her eyes and opened them. “Jesus,” she said again, and watched Ryan sip his wine. “Why’re you doing this?”