Page 13 - The Myth and the Moment

Morning

Who is this guy: beak-nosed, balding, freckled, in a Hawaiian
(ersatz) shirt?
“Ha! You don’t recognize me, but I’d know you anywhere.”
Oh, no! It’s—
“Phil Kolpak: don’t you remember the Blue Dharma Theater?”
“Phil. Of course. It must be twenty-five years since that stage went
dark. I’m sorry. You really don’t look that much different.”
“Well, well. This is really something! I thought you had packed it in
and left town. I mean, I know everything that goes on in L.A., and I
had no idea you were still here.”
I’ve got to get hold of that pole while it’s within reach. I did too
good a job getting air out of the line: it’s going to sink with the hose
unless I can—whoops!
Splash!
Ack! Don’t swallow! Grab the pole, get over to the shallow end.
That blew it: the bottom is all stirred up. Kolpak’s got his hand out to
help me up. No thanks.
“I’m okay. Just lost my balance. I’ll finish this in a couple of
minutes after the dirt settles down.”
“Hey, no problem, Nate. Someone usually falls in the pool at my
parties—or is pushed in. Usually after a few drinks. Can I get you
one?”
“Uh, no, I can’t drink on the job. Thanks, anyway.”
Oops, here she comes. She must be his wife!
“Phil baby, what happen? Pool man drunk?”
“No, Lin honey, he’s just naturally stoned. This is my old buddy,
Nate Evangelino.”
“I not see him before.”
“Of course not, angel. We worked together back in the Fifties, way
before I met you.”
“Pool still dirty.”
“Ah, I’ll clean it up in a minute, ah, Mrs. Kolpak. Just let me get
my equipment squared away.”
Back of her head, back of her hand.
“Don’t mind her, Nate. She’s on edge: the caterers haven’t shown
up yet. Party looks like another flopperoo: hotter than hell at ten
a.m., no food, pool a mess. Oh, sorry, Nate.”

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