“Adelle should be out soon,” Terry explained. She’ll be late for her own funeral.
“Where’s Cathy?” Frank asked.
“She’s getting us some booze. Her older brother promised her he’d get us some gin.”
“Gin!” Wiggy screwed up his face. “I can’t stand that stuff. Tastes like scotch tape.”
“You can’t stand the taste of alcohol-period,” Frank said with a sneer.
“You’re a weed man. I prefer bourbon.”
“Bourbon!” Wiggy laughed. “Do you like your martini stirred or shaken, Mr. Bond?”
“Bourbon ain’t a martini,” Frank responded. What an asshole!
“Well, what the hell is it?” Wiggy cried. What a smart-ass!
“Cut it out!” Terry interrupted. Morons!
Wiggy waved his hand at Frank. “I get so sick of this guy’s pretensions. Thinks he’s a man of the world.”
Wiggy stepped back and banged his shoulder against the wall.
Frank laughed. “You really got the twitch tonight.” 30
“ F you,” Wiggy said dismissively.
“If you guys don’t knock it off,” Terry declared, “people are going to think you’re married.” He coughed and spat on the sidewalk.
“Nice,” Frank responded, turning away. I really want to look at his mucus?
“You see,” Wiggy pleaded with Terry, “he’s got to comment on everything. Like Howard Fucking Cossell. Next time you fart he’ll be evaluating your brand.”
Terry laughed, then asked, “Did you get any weed?” Wiggy tapped the breast pocket of his jacket and smiled with pride.
Frank looked around with trepidation. “Makes me nervous standing here like this. Couldn’t we get going?”
“Relax,” Terry said. “Cops got better things to do than hassle us.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Frank muttered. “Remember Joey Artibello.”
“Joey is an asshole,” Wiggy said and laughed. “Joey tells everyone he’s selling. What does he expect?”
Frank pointed at Wiggy and laughed. “You’ve got a bigger mouth than Joey.”
Wiggy shook his shoulders and straightened up. “Joey goes around telling everyone he’s got underworld connections. His f’ing father drives a hearse.”
Frank waved Wiggy off.
Wiggy changed course. “Did you see that documentary on Derringer last night? What a cool guy. Robbing banks. All the chicks he had. What a life! Did you know he had plastic surgery to change his appearance?
Wanted to disappear from the public eye. In the end he was betrayed by a woman in red outside a movie theater in Chicago. I read that J. Edgar Hoover had the other agents hold Derringer down while he put a bullet in his head.”
Terry shook his head. “I didn’t see it. What channel was it on?”
“How would you disappear if you wanted to?” Wiggy asked.
“We live in an age of information,” Frank said. “I’d have all my records, dental, medical, changed.”
“Ya,” Wiggy cried, sucking on his cigarette, “but people could identify you from your photographs. You’d still need the plastic surgery.”
“Change the photographs,” Frank argued. He stepped back to let a woman and her two children pass.
Wiggy turned to Terry. “Can you do that?”
Terry nodded.
“Jesus!” Wiggy cried. “I don’t know how I’d disappear. Even with plastic surgery and changing all your ID, there’s a chance someone would recognize you. I’d go to some south seas island maybe. Some place where no white man has been. I’ve seen pictures of the chicks on those islands. Topless, man. And they’ve got nothing else to do all day but fuck. It would be paradise, man. I heard about a guy who went to Mexico and got laid using Canadian Tire money.”
“Right,” Terry responded.
“With your face, you’d stand out like a sore thumb,” Frank said then turned to Terry. “Got any ideas on how old Wiggy here could disappear?”
“We could drop him down a deep dark hole,” Terry responded, flicking his cigarette into the parking lot. Frank and Terry laughed.
“Very funny.” Wiggy released a cloud of smoke and coughed.
A moment later Adelle exited from the camera shop. She shuffled up next to the boys and asked for a cigarette. Terry handed her one.
“Sorry. I had this strange dude in the shop who wanted to buy some kind of spy camera and then when Mr. Leblanc returned I had to explain what kind of camera this guy was looking for. Mr. Leblanc was thinking of calling the police.”
“Spy camera!” Wiggy exclaimed.
“Old man Leblanc is always keeping you late. Did he come on to you again?” Frank laughed.
Adelle turned and glared at Terry.
“You didn’t expect me to keep that a secret, did you?” Terry responded.
“You don’t have to advertise it,” she said angrily. “If my mom hears about Mr. Leblanc, she’ll make me quit the job. I like the work and it’s easy and I can handle Mr. Leblanc. He’s just lonely.”
“Horny too!” Wiggy responded with a laugh and a cough. “Can you imagine an old guy like that? Probably got bigger tits than you.” Adelle smacked Wiggy in the arm. He cried out.
Wiggy winced. “What was that for?”
“For being an asshole!” Adelle said with a smirk.
“I like it when you hit me,” Wiggy countered. “Do it again!”
“Fuck off!” Adelle cried.
In the distance thunder rolled. They looked up into the sky.
“Man!” Frank cried.
The four friends moved along the plaza, forcing other pedestrians to move around them. Adelle choked on her cigarette smoke.
“You smoke too much,” Terry said to Adelle as he cleared his throat.
“Are you my mother now?” Adelle cried.
“So old man Leblanc is groping you, eh?” Wiggy gargled with laughter. “Fill us in on the details, mama.” Adelle glared at Wiggy.
“There are no details,” she said.
Wiggy shook his head, sucking on his cigarette and snorting with each breath.
“There are always details. Man, you could blackmail him. We take a few pictures next time and you’re set for life. Won’t want the little wife at home to see pix of him groping the hired help.”
“He lives with his mother,” Terry added, then turned to Adelle.
“Wiggy just wants some pictures to wank over.” Adelle laughed.
“Oh,” Wiggy responded and thought for a moment. “I don’t need to wank. I can get all the pussy I need.”
“Ya, right!” Frank laughed. “Hell, the only pussy you see is your mom’s.”
Adelle laughed. Wiggy turned to her.
“Frank is so funny. In his own mind!”
“Did you tell your mom you got expelled?” Terry asked.
“Not expelled-suspended!” Wiggy grinned proudly. “Shit, no. Why should I upset my old lady? They said I skipped too many Latin classes.
Dead language. You gotta be dead to attend those classes.”
“How does a language die?” Frank asked. “Did everyone die who was using it?”
Adelle smirked. “People stopped speaking it.”
“Whaddya mean? Did they stop talking? Can you imagine if we stopped speaking English? There would be chaos.”
“My mom says we don’t speak English,” Terry responded.
“My mom says things are a mess.” Adelle dropped her cigarette to the street and ground it out with her heel. She asked Terry for a cigarette. He was out. She turned to Wiggy again. Wiggy shook his head.
“What do I look like? A bank? You’re the one with a job. Why don’t you buy your own?”
“Give her a cigarette,” Frank barked. “You’re giving me a headache.” The friends moved out of the plaza and moved west along Bloor Street toward a nearby hydro field. After continual pestering, reluctantly Wiggy offered his package of cigarettes to Adelle.
“There’s your mom,” Wiggy said.
Across the street Terry’s mother stepped into the Zig Zag bar.
“Ya, I see her.” Terry turned his head away.
“She spends an awful lot of time in there,” Wiggy said. “My mom says-”
“Can’t you ever shut up?” Frank interrupted.
“Can’t you ever stop criticizing?” Wiggy responded.
Disappeared
Detective Sam Kelly shook his head. Jack, the bartender, nodded as he placed the tall glass of beer in front of the policeman. Sam lifted the glass to his lips and in one long swallow, downed it.