Lovely Summer Smoke Deluged by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Chapter 12

A knock came to Kale’s door. Bop, bop .... Bruuum. Kale and Posie looked at each other curiously as they dressed. Bop, bop

.... Bruuum replayed.

Kale said; “Do you have any idea what this is?” as he zipped his pants.

“I’m learning.”

“Nooooo. I mean that beat?”

“Coltrane?”

“Posie. You know exactly what I’m referring to.”

“That’s a new one to me.”

Bop, bop .... . Bruuum. Bop, bop .... . Bruuum.

Posie yelled; “Come in.”

The door opened irregularly, slowly at the start, gradually increasing to manically fast at conclusion and there stood Arthur.

At least they were reasonably sure that it was Arthur as the person was sloppily dressed in baggy cuffed pants made for someone two sizes larger and a soiled, multi-colored pullover shirt. His hair went in all directions as if he had slept on every square inch of his head.

Kale said; “Arthur?” When he received no correction, he added; “Are you all right?”

Arthur said; “Of course, my young Philistines. And I see that you can’t do anything but a duet.”

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Posie replied; “Coltrane did his best work when he partnered with Tyner.”

Arthur derided; “If you’re referring to my new style of greeting, you are no jazz aficionado. Coltrane was smooth and romantic, obviously your favorite. What you heard was Parker with Charlie’s discordant flats, more of an acquired taste, but generally considered superior.”

Posie drolled; “Parker was never redundant.”

Arthur bristled noticeably and directly said; “I’m not here to discuss aesthetics. My interest is the possible monetary value of your books.”

Kale said; “Where did you get the impression that we have something for sale?”

Arthur sighed heavily, before he said; “Must every step be a protracted process? I know you are writing books. But, fine, have it your way. …………… If you were writing books would you have an interest in having them properly marketed?”

Kale said; “If we were writing books and if we were interested in selling them we would obviously have an interest in having them properly marketed. That’s kind of a no-brainer sales pitch.”

Arthur had trouble deciding his next “sales pitch,” as Kale and Posie had a knack of making him feel inadequate or silly or something in between; the bottom line was that he was not fond of

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either of them, but he was compelled to pursue them, being the rational businessman that he was striving to be. He tried to assuage both compulsions by saying; “My sincere apologies for having insulted your intelligence. Be assured that my next approach will require at least half a brain. Posie, you should certainly know that there are no secrets in this household. If brought to the surface, those books would serve as evidence of your misbehavior, and one of you will be shipped to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and the other to Krakow. I’m offering you the best deal anyone ever had; you can dispose of the evidence and get paid for it.”

Neither had anything they wanted to say and Posie tried to further aggravate Arthur. She didn’t see anything to lose since he was already aggravated, a seemingly absolute thought, with no need to calculate degrees. He had already been threatening. However, she had no intention of selling her book and neither did Kale have any intention of selling his. She suspected that at the bottom line Arthur would have to remain at his current place, as the only way he was going to profit from their books was if he had the rights granted by them. They could always sell them to someone else or even destroy them to “get rid of the evidence.” She was disturbed hearing that the books were common knowledge and felt vulnerable to an irrational act. Despite that she had no intention of voluntarily giving up her book. She said; “Are you sure that

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It’s Jackson Hole and Krakow? We were otherwise advised that it would be El Paso and Blagoevgrad.”

Kale purposely hid a small smirk with an impolite half-sneeze-back-of-the-hand-nose-wipe, not wishing to add to the existing rancor, yet demonstrating unity with Posie.

Arthur thought that there was no sense in it for him to push the conversation further ........ today. He made a brief polite grin, and then turned to leave. With his hands in his oversized empty pockets as he walked away, without turning, he said; “When you decide you need money, remember that we are in a public domain AND who your friends are; siblings in a sense.”

When Arthur shut the door behind him, Posie looked at Kale and slowly shook her head, now worried more than ever. Kale held her and did what he was supposed to. He told her not to worry and that everything was going to be all right. She knew he was lying, but liked hearing it. Exhausted, they slept.

Kale woke, first noticing the peeling lime paint on or off the walls, depending on viewpoint. It seemed to be exposing more of the underlying, blotchy gray plaster than he previously saw and it resembled abandoned, lumpy oatmeal growing fungus in the tepid late day indirect sun. Posie seemed to be wide awake, but she put her head back in the pillow, preferring the surreality of dreams.

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A light backhand tap came to the door and Otis’ voice loudly whispered; “Hey man, you in there?”

Kale said; “No.”

Posie rose and sat at the edge.

Otis said; “Can we come in?”

Kale said; “Yeah, sure,” and sat next to Posie.

Otis and Tory walked in appearing somewhat unsure. Tory said;

“You guys all right?”

Posie said; “Yeah, yeah. Never better.” She frowned.

Otis sat next to Posie and leaned against her. Tory mirrored the move at the other end. Otis said; “Ummm. So watchew guys been doin’?”

Kale deadpanned; “Playing canasta.”

Otis nodded a few times and said; “Dig it. Dig it. ……….

Doesn’t that game go better with four?”

Kale and Posie were both flabbergasted and speechless.

In their state of mind (and body) Otis and Tory took that to be a demonstration of shyness rather than a rejection and Tory put her hand on the back of Kyle’s neck and pushed his head down toward her lap. Otis did the same with Posie. She stood up, breaking his grip.

Otis eyed the floor and rubbed his chin. He matter-of-factly said; “Hey, you know it’s like getting to be common knowledge that

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you guys are into ...... canasta, as you put it. It’s more fun when it’s a multi-player game and we like you and all of that.”

Kale stood up and said; “Get the fuck out of here, man.”

Otis, too, stood and held up his hands defensively, saying;

“Sorry, man. It’s cool. You know how it is.”

Kale was still irate about what he considered to be near an invasion and responded; “No, man. I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

Tory got up and started for the door. She said; “Come on, Otis. Some people are still living in the fifties.” She led him out by the flag pole, with the two of them doing their best to display disdaining stares.

When the door shut Kale shook his head, looked at Posie and groaned, worried about the effect the incident might have on her.

She appeared nonchalant and said; “That might have been fun.”

Kale said; “You’re kidding me.”

“No. You never asked my opinion on the matter. I’ll admit that the approach was on the course side, but sometimes you forgive some over-familiarity with friends.”

Kale was speechless and felt as though he was the prude in an increasingly wild 1960’s world.

Posie said; “I was kidding. I just wanted to see your reaction. They freaked me out.” She kissed his cheek.

He said; “The more I think about it the better I like the idea. I’m going to try to call them back.” He moved toward the

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door and Posie pulled him to the mattress. They laughed as they rolled on it until they fell asleep.

They woke to an assertive door knock. The boom, boom, boom sounded as if someone was using a mallet. They leaped and quickly dressed as Kale said; “Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder there are no clocks in this place.”

Boom, boom, boom.

He called out; “Wait a minute.” He whispered; “Are you ready for this?”

Posie exhaled and shrugged.

Kale said; “Come in.”

A female voice said; “Are you decent?”

Kale said a long; “Yes.”

The female voice said; “Too bad.” The door opened and in strolled Amber, completing the sibling meeting day. Her pink tank top fell revealing one pointy breast.

She laughed and said; “Let it all hang out. It’s fucking hot.” She shook her head and pulled back her long blond hair, but ignored that which protruded from her tight, cut-off jeans.

Posie thought; “Oh, shit.”

Kale thought; “Oh, shit. Nice.”

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Amber stumbled to the mattress and wiggled her way between the two, kicking off her shoes. She said; “You all don’t mind. Do you? People are friendly where I come from.”

Posed with a direct question, Posie responded; “Yes, as a matter of fact we do mind. Don’t we Kale?”

He said; “We most certainly do,” sounding a bit like Maxwell Smart.

Posie and Kale got to their feet and stared at the intruder.

Amber was on eye level with their crotches and didn’t look up. She shifted her eyes from side to side and said; “Who’s first, or would you like me to switch around?”

Posie said; “What I’d like you to do is leave. Maybe take a course in subtlety.”

Amber said; “Uptight?”

Posie and Kale continued to look down on the one-eighth dressed provocatrix.

Amber felt embarrassed only because she thought that they were fixated on her upper thigh scar. She got up and angrily said;

“You two think you’re so special. Everyone knows what you’ve been up to and it’s only a matter of time before you get your just desserts. She stormed out of the room and slammed the door.

Kale made sure it was locked. They looked at each other despondently.

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Posie said; “The damn thing is that this house is full of freaks. Yet we’re going to be the ones punished. I know it. I know it. I know it. How did we become lightning rods? We’re not bothering anyone.” Tears welled up.

Kale put his arms around her and held her close. While he thought that Posie’s dabble in futurism was a clearly possible scenario, he came to a conclusion she hadn’t considered. He said;

“Let’s say everybody knows about us. So far all the harm it has caused is snide comments and offers to participate. Maybe that’s all there ever will be. In the meantime; courir en liberte. If they want to get us, they probably can. A little more won’t make the least bit of difference.”

Posie giggled and wiped her eyes.

Kale guided Posie to his mattress and sat next to her. He said; “It’s been a really weird day today. No sense in trying to fight it. Let’s do something we’ve never done before. Let me read to you from your book.”

“Are you sure that god won’t turn us into salt, zap our brains with electrodes or something?”

“No. But that makes it infinitely more exciting. Don’t you think?”

“Far fucking out. I’m going with the flow.” She got up and Kale looked at her quizzically. She said; “I’m going to get my book, silly. Where did you think that I could carry it with me?”

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Kale grinned and raised his eyebrows.

Posie placed two fingers on his lips, said; “Don’t you dare,”

and went off. She quickly returned, handed him the book, her finger in a certain page, and she said; “Here. Read this part.”

MARIAN WAS SITTING HIGH ON THE DESK AS KALE ENTERED HIS

OFFICE, LEANING BACK ON HER LEFT HAND, HER RIGHT REMOVING THE

CIGARETTE FROM HER BRIGHT RED LIPS. HER UNCROSSED LEGS WERE

COVERED WITH GRAY OPAQUE SEAMED NYLONS HELD UP BY BLACK GARTER

BELTS. HE FUMBLED ATTEMPTING TO PUT THE KEYS BACK IN HIS POCKET

AND DROPPED THEM. AS HE STOOPED IN A RETRIEVAL ATTEMPT, HIS

RIGHT HAND FELT THE GROUND WHILE HIS EYES REMAINED ELEVATED

ENOUGH TO SEE THAT IT WAS TOO HOT A DAY FOR UNDERWEAR. SHE

FOLLOWED HIS SPARKLING EYES AND CALMLY LAUGHED, EXHALING SMOKE

SAYING; “LIKE THE AIR DOWN THERE?”

TEMPORARILY OBLIVIOUS TO THE PEELING LIGHT GREEN OR YELLOW

PAINT ON THE WALL AND BROWN CARPETED FLOOR, KALE SAID; “AIR’S

FINE. VIEW IS EVEN BETTER.” HE FELT A COMPELLING NEED TO

MOISTEN HIS DRY LIPS. MARIAN GOT OFF THE DESK AND WALKED A FEW

STEPS TO A FRAMED LITHOGRAPH OF A YELLOW SAILBOAT GOING DOWN

NEAR PORT, HER SHORT LOOSE RED SKIRT BRUSHING THE FACE OF THE

CROUCHING MAN AS SHE PASSED. HER BACK TO HIM SHE SAID; “I’M

DESPERATE AND I THINK YOU PROVIDE THE TYPE OF SERVICE I WANT.”

HE LEANED FORWARD AND PUSHED A BUTTON SAYING; “DO YOU LIKE

ART?”

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“CERTAIN TYPES. BOATING SCENES DON’T DO A THING FOR ME.”

HE LOOKED AT THE LONG BLOND HAIR PARTED IN THE MIDDLE OF

HER HEAD AND KNEW IT WAS A BLEACH JOB AND SAID; “CALL ME

KALEIDOSCOPIC. WHAT KIND OF THING CAN I DO FOR YOU?”

“SURVEILLANCE,” SHE SAID, LAUGHING AND PARTING HER UNCOMBED

HAIR.

HE LAUGHED, TOO, SURVEYING HER ALMOND SHAPED GREEN EYES

FROM A TRUNCATED VANTAGE POINT, COYLY SAYING; “OF WHAT?” IN A GARBLED MANNER.

Posie tugged his hair and said; “Don’t try to get funny.

Pay attention to what you’re doing. Make believe it’s Marian’s and I’m watching and waiting.”

Kale covered her with kisses.

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