Schultz reaching up a hand to feel if the top of his head was still on and to brush back Agnes’s silkily soft hair stuck in the beads of perspiration of his brow. Sounds out on the London night. And all’s quiet on the Arabesque front. Agnes half an inch away. Nice fresh air coming in the window from the back garden. Big Ben tolling a quarter to five. Holy Jesus I must have for a minute fell asleep. In a dream I was on my way from Woonsocket to Boston on the train. Lost my luggage. In the big shadowy gloomy station. Then found myself not knowing where to go out in the twisted streets. Kept asking everybody directions to the Ritz Carlton Hotel. They kept saying you go left, you go right, then through a door of an old office building and down a long tiled hall. And out another door. I’d get there. End up standing around hearing doors slamming. And ask and get the same direction from somebody else all over again. I kept saying it’s by the Public Gardens. And Agnes suddenly was there, magically opening up every orifice. And Jesus I found my way. Right up into a Ritz bedroom having sausages and buckwheat cakes drowned in maple syrup. Blueberry muffins and melted butter. And quaffing coffee. Reading the newspapers. Watching the television. Happy on top of the world.
“You’ve got to get out of here.”
“Holy cow take it easy, don’t push.”
“I thought I heard a sound.”
“Could be a cat in the garden.”
“I’ve just betrayed my best friend.”
“No you didn’t honey, you just did her a big favour.”
“I’m in her house. Her guest.”
“You’re in my house. You’re my guest too honey.”
“You sound like a cat who just got the cream.”
“Honey you just saved my life.”
“That’s nice for you. But I’m not in the life saving business. O dear, what’s that.”
“Nothing honey.”
“It is. Someone’s coming up the stairs.”
“Holy shit, there is. Agnes don’t panic, door’s locked.”
“O god what are we going to do.”
“Lie low. I’ll get under the bed just in case.”
“Get your clothes.”
“No problem. Holy shit. What am I saying again. It could be some problem.”
“Shush.”
Schultz on hands and knees, grabbing around on the floor in the dark. Dragging his clothes after him squeezing face up in under the bed. A creak of floor boards in the hall. A long long listening silence. Another creak. And a knock on the door.
“Agnes. Are you alright in there.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure. My mother thought she heard someone screaming.”
“I had a bad dream. I’m alright now.”
“Can I come in.”
“The door’s locked.”
“Why have you locked it.”
“I just locked it. I always lock my door in a big city.”
“I do think you had better let me in. Open the door. Please. Oh the door is open. I thought you said it was locked.”
Schultz squirming further under the bed. Holy jeeze, how the fuck did that happen. Too much on my mind for too long and mistakes are happening all over the fucking place. They teach you day and night in the Coast Guard. Check and then double check everything. Now with the way my life has become, if I don’t fall head first downstairs, I leave doors open, my fly open, and even my prick out. Which would you believe it, is at this moment pushing a hole up into the bedsprings.
A candle glow coming into the room. Followed by Pricilla. In a purple satin nightdress, with transparent crimson lace over the bosoms guaranteed to turn tired husbands on fire.
“Now are you sure you’re alright Agnes.”
Agnes shifting down in the bed. Schultz pulling his armful of clothes in tight around him. Foot entangled around the lamp cord. Holy Jesus christ. There’s a break in my favour. No electricity to electrocute me. One more inch lower and I could never even with my prick bent back double, fit under this fucking thing in the first place. Look at the bitch. The hem of a brand new purple fucking outfit to go to bed in. And she’s wearing my god damn hand sewn custom made slippers. If my heart pounds any louder she’ll hear it. Come on Agnes. Time to be as cool as a cucumber in the September rain. Keep up the performance. Act like you were masturbating and blew your lid in a paroxysm. Don’t give the game away with nervousness. Like I’m beginning to do with hysteria. Jesus this is just like once instead of hiding under it, I had to lie in full view in the bed. With a Mafia gunman four feet away pointing a god damn Smith and Wesson thirty eight calibre revolver right at me between the eyes. When I had two minutes before been forty two miles up his luscious chorus girl mistress fucking the tits off her all afternoon. When the banging on the door came just as I was banging her for the seventh ecstatic but unlucky time. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly fell out while she nearly ripped my prick off jumping into a kimono. The guy was hammering the apartment door down while I said should I hide under the bed. She said no. He’ll kill you soon as he finds you there. Just go to sleep and look like you got pneumonia. I’ll tell him you’re my nephew from Albany who’s visiting town and got sick. I got sick in a second like I had malaria, double pneumonia, clap and leprosy. The fever I threw made me so red all over the face I nearly exploded. Like I thought the end of the revolver barrel was going to do any second. With his bodyguard just behind him, he kept standing there. In a black fedora, chesterfield overcoat and black skin tight gloves. Holding the gun on me. Looking. Saying. If this fucking kid’s been up to any monkey business I’ll blow first his head away and then yours. She kept saying can’t you see he’s just an innocent kid Al. Imagine this gangster called Al. He was also called hairy ape because he didn’t have a hair on his body. Never before did I try to look so young, innocent and vulnerable. Only time I ever truly changed character in my life. It was a tour de force. Even to fluttering my eyelids to look effeminate. So help me fucking god I swear that was what must have convinced him. I was a pansy. He locked the bedroom door. As he was leaving he socked her breaking her nose. Shoved his knee in her stomach and made her vomit. Then threw her crashing back through the bedroom door where I was to my own astonishment getting up to protect her. Fortunately he was gone. And holy shit I left this god damn bedroom door open. But Jesus instead of Pricilla, give me the Mafia anytime. She could be giving evidence against me this morning in Court. Christ I already hear her sniffing.