Good for you, Frink thought.
“Hell, if you could go in there like you did,” Ed said, “and give him that line about being a Jap admiral’s gentleman, I ought to be able to tell him the truth, that this is really good creative original handmade jewelry, that—”
“Handwrought,” Frink said.
“Yeah. Hand wrought. I mean, I’ll go in there and I won’t come back out until I’ve given him a run for his money. He ought to buy this. If he doesn’t he’s really nuts. I’ve looked around; there isn’t anything like ours for sale anywhere. God, when I think of him maybe looking at it and not buying it—it makes me so goddam mad I could start swinging.”
“Make sure you tell him it’s not plated,” Frink said. “That copper means solid copper and brass solid brass.”
“You let me work out my own approach,” Ed said, “I got some really good ideas.”
Frink thought, What I can do is this. I can take a couple of pieces—Ed’ll never care—and box them up and send them to Juliana. So she’ll see what I’m doing. The postal authorities will trace her; I’ll send it registered to her last known address. What’ll she say when she opens the box? There’ll have to be a note from me explaining that I made it myself; that I’m a partner in a little new creative jewelry business. I’ll fire her imagination, give her an account that’ll make her want to know more, that’ll get her interested. I’ll talk about the gems and the metals. The places we’re selling to, the fancy stores…
“Isn’t it along here?” Ed said, slowing the truck. They were in heavy downtown traffic; buildings blotted out the sky. “I better park.”
“Another five blocks,” Frink said.
“Got one of those marijuana cigarettes?” Ed said. “One would calm me right about now.”
Frink passed him his package of T’ien-lais, the “Heavenly Music” brand he had learned to smoke at W-M Corporation.
I know she’s living with some guy, Frink said to himself. Sleeping with him. As if she was his wife. I know Juliana. She couldn’t survive any other way; I know how she gets around nightfall. When it gets cold and dark and everybody’s home sitting around the living room. She was never made for a solitary life. Me neither, he realized.
Maybe the guy’s a real nice guy. Some shy student she picked up. She’d be a good woman for some young guy who had never had the courage to approach a woman before. She’s not hard or cynical. It would do him a lot of good. I hope to hell she’s not with some older guy. That’s what I couldn’t stand. Some experienced mean guy with a toothpick sticking out of the side of his mouth, pushing her around.
He felt himself begin to breathe heavily. Image of some beefy hairy guy stepping down hard on Juliana, making her life miserable… I know she’d finally wind up killing herself, he thought. It’s in the cards for her, if she doesn’t find the right man—and that means a really gentle, sensitive, kindly student type who would be able to appreciate all those thoughts she has.
I was too rough for her, he thought. And I’m not so bad; there are a hell of a lot of guys worse than me. I could pretty well figure out what she was thinking, what she wanted, when she felt lonely or bad or depressed. I spent a lot of time worrying and fussing over her. But it wasn’t enough. She deserved more. She deserves a lot, he thought.
“I’m parking,” Ed said. He had found a place and was backing the truck, peering over his shoulder.
“Listen,” Frink said, “Can I send a couple of pieces to my wife?”
“I didn’t know you were married.” Intent on parking, Ed answered him reflexively. “Sure, as long as they’re not silver.”
Ed shut off the truck motor.
“We’re here,” he said. He puffed marijuana smoke, then stubbed the cigarette out on the dashboard, dropped the remains to the cab floor. “Wish me luck.”