Page 43 - The Myth and the Moment
P. 43

Afternoon

            I say that’s the last person in the world I’d turn to for help. She’s
        probably as big a crook as Phil. She might even have done the job for
        him; yeah, disguised herself as a Latino housewife, slipped a jimmy in
        her  shopping  bag,  and  raced  down  here  on  a  motorcycle.  That’s
        preposterous, of course. Of course. But she might know something I
        could use on Phil beside a promise to roll over and play dead. Yeah.
          “Yes.  Yes,  I  do  believe  I’ll  take  you  up  on your  generous  offer.
        Yes, an excellent suggestion, Mister Jefferson; worthy of a statesman
        of your high caliber.”
          “Hey, I knew if I kept shooting off my mouth I’d hit something
        sooner or later! Let’s make it.”
          And off we go. Is he relieved or the opposite? Ah, give up on the
        body language: stick to the facts. He’s sweating, but so am I. It’s hot.
        Sun’s hot, pavement’s hot, clothes sticky, mouth dry. I never did get
        to eat. Or drink. Got to watch out for dehydration in this weather.
        Wait a minute: how am I going to get home? Bus. Enough money?
        Sure, got about twenty bucks on me, lots of loose change.
          “Where does she live?”
          “Hollywood. Not far. There’s my car, the blue Pinto wagon. Never
        mind all that junk on the front seat; just throw it in the back. Let me
        open the windows to cool it off for a minute. Whoosh! This is one
        hot mother of a day!”
           A man who works out of his automobile, an office and warehouse
        on  wheels.  Shipping  and  receiving?  Rear  door,  please.  Customer
        service? Driver’s window, but hours are limited. Every type of leaflet,
        pamphlet and toilet paper. Boxes: not original contents, not television
        sets and Xerox toner and Scuzz the Household Cleanser. Freelance
        for sure.
          “Ouch! Damned vinyl seat is like a griddle!”
          “Sorry.  We’ll  have  to  drive  with  the  windows  open;  the  air
        conditioner is a thing of the past. Now, look at this: I had just put a
        new cassette in the camcorder, so I’ll just rewind it and you can see
        for yourself what’s on it.”
          “Uh, thanks. How does this work?”
          “Idiot-proof. The Japanese won’t over-estimate our intelligence by
        putting anything in English on there. Just push the button with the
        arrow going left; when the rewind stops, push the button with the
        arrow going right. Got it, man?”

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