“YOU KNOW, I COULD actually make out better by not going ahead with this book.”
“How so?” she asked, her big toe lazily caressing my calf under the sheet.
“Harmon. Gabe. They’ve both made it plain they’d take care of me financially—if I were to back off.”
“You won’t. You’ll finish it, and you’ll finish it in the right way.”
“You were so against it before. Why are you so for it now?”
“Because I know what it means to you. I know you.”
I smiled. “Just about.”
It was past midnight and we were in Sonny’s bed, where it started, where we always returned. For lighting there was the small fire I’d built in the fireplace. For refreshment there was the bottle of Dom Perignon, which was in a bucket on the floor next to Lulu, who was busy staring down the tub of beluga that sat on the bed. Caviar is an unusual taste for a dog, but not for a dog who likes mackerel. I spooned some onto a square of toast and gave it to her. She almost took a finger with it. Then I refilled the glasses and Wanda took hers and she said “skoal” and it was the wrong thing to say.
It belonged to another midnight snack. Another bed. The one at Blakes’ Hotel in London, when Merilee and I were on our honeymoon. Together. Perfect. Forever. I got out of bed and went out onto the terrace. But the wave of melancholy found me out there and crashed over me just the same. It had all seemed so right that night in London. It had been right. It still was.
“What’s wrong?” Wanda called to me from inside.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
I came back inside and put another log on the fire. It was pine and very dry. It burned quickly.
“My memory,” I said.
“What about it?”
“It’s a damned good one.”
She reached for a cigarette and lit it. “I guess I know what’s bothering you. You’re thinking about how sorry you are. Sorry you got started with me.”
“No. Never.”
“Then why are you shutting me out? What is it?”
“It’s Merilee.” I drained my glass. “It always will be Merilee.”
“Oh.”
“You’ve made me feel alive again, Wanda. For that I’m grateful. Very grateful. But I’m not over her. It’s not over. You’ve made me realize that.”
“I thought she was married to Zack—”
“She is. For now.”
She shook her head. “Nice try, Hoagy. I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll take it from here. You’ve gotten your rocks off sixty-two different ways and now you’re starting to ask yourself questions. Questions like: ‘Am I the one who’s going to straighten her out?’ ‘Am I the one who’s finally going to make her happy?’ ‘Am I going to have to dump her, like all the others did?’ That’s really it, isn’t it, Hoagy? See, I’ve been through this before. Believe me, I’ve been through it.”
“Nice work. You managed to trash both of us without even working up a sweat.”
“Fuck you.”
“It’s not as if this kind of thing happens to me every week. Or ever.”
“It’s not like I tell guys about Gabe and Mommy every week,” she told me back. “Or ever.”
I let her have that one.
She put out her cigarette and lit another. “I thought we were doing okay, Hoagy.”
“We were. But it can’t go on.”
“You’re going back to New York?”
“As soon as I can.”
“Last time I was in New York,” she said, “I saw a fender-bender between two cabs on Sixth Avenue. The drivers got in an argument right there in the middle of the street and started shoving each other. Instead of trying to break it up, all the people on the sidewalks were yelling, ‘Hit him! Hit him!’ I could never live in a place like that, where there’s so much hate.”
“You mentioned once that this place isn’t real. That is. Hate is real.”
“Connecticut is nice. I was happy there.”
“That’s right. You lived there on the farm with Connie. Did you know he was never out there? Not once. He never even saw the place.”
“No, I didn’t. That’s amazing. What else … what did he tell you about me?”
“Really want to know?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That he cherished you. And that when you started to withdraw, to …”
“To get weird.”
“… he thought God was punishing him.”
“Perfect.” She sighed and slumped against the pillows.
I poured the last of the champagne into her glass and had some of the beluga. Lulu still hadn’t taken her eyes off it.
“This is where I belong,” Wanda said. “L.A. I belong here.”
“Ah.”
She suddenly jumped out of bed and stood glaring down at me, her hands on her hips, her long, naked flanks tensed. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing. Sounded like ‘Okay, Wanda. Whatever you say, Wanda. You’re the basket case, Wanda.’”
“Kind of touchy, aren’t you?”
“For somebody who’s getting dumped?”
“You’re not getting dumped. It’s … I just can’t live in your movie anymore.”
“Try hell!”
She whirled and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
I went after her. Lulu, a sentimentalist, went right for the caviar.
I caught up with Wanda at the top of the stairs and took her by the arm.
“Let me go!” she cried. “Let me go!” She yanked her arm free and ran down the steps and out the front door of the house, stark naked, screaming “Motherfucker!”
I let a curse of my own go. And then I followed her out there.
She was on the lawn, screaming “Motherfucker! Motherfucker!” in the general direction of the house. She was quite hysterical, and the cops guarding the place were getting quite a free show. I tried to grab her, but she took off on me. She was quick on her feet. I chased her around the reflecting pond. I chased her through the reflecting pond. I followed her into the orchard. And out of the orchard.
I finally intercepted her over by the log arbor. I tackled her around both legs. The two of us thudded to the grass and lay there, cold, wet, panting.
“Everything okay there?!” one of the cops yelled.
“Fine!” I yelled back, my chest heaving. “Just a disagreement!” She was sobbing now. I held her until she stopped.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make a scene. Not very sophisticated of me.”
“I’d better check into a hotel.”
“No, don’t. Please stay, Hoagy. I’ll … I’ll make up another bed for you. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I got to my feet, held my hand out to her. She took it. I pulled her up.
“Still pals?” I asked.
“Still pals.”
I smiled. “Ex-pals?”
She smiled back. Then she shook her head. “No, ex-lovers.”