I returned home emotionally exhausted. Too much history stuffed in between the bread of my fried egg sandwich. There was no flashing light and I didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. I picked relieved. There was no need for the stash to call since I was rolling before I had my coat off: I wanted to get high and go to sleep. My headache had returned. I just wanted to disappear, but the telephone rang and without thinking I grabbed it.
“Well?” Simon’s voice was impatient.
“Well what?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“I don’t understand. Where did she go today?”
“Simon, I don’t know.” I started to feel numb. “I don’t spy on Fridays.”
“Goddamnit, we went through that yesterday. I’m not talking about spying.”
“That’s right, you’re talking about me spying.”
“Look, I don’t care what you call it. Are you going to do the job or what? I thought we had an understanding.”
I was too tired to argue. “We have an understanding; I will follow Fran as per your request. Okay?”
Simon’s voice was grudging. “The words are fine, it’s your attitude that concerns me. The words were okay yesterday too!”
“Lighten up. I said I’d do it.”
“You said that yesterday, but you still haven’t done shit. I understand it makes you uncomfortable, but right now my life is miserable and I need your help. Not your mouth.”
I was almost too exhausted to feel guilty. Almost. “Look, Simon, I told you I was working on something. I’ll start covering Fran tomorrow. I promise.”
“What are you doing for the rest of the day? It’s only three.”
He wasn’t going to let up. I started rummaging around my pocket for the lighter. “Look, Simon, I have to take care of something in the building. I’ll get on the case tomorrow.”
I glanced across the room to Mrs. Sullivan’s light: where are you when I need you? “I have to go. Mrs. S.’s light is flashing and you know how she gets if I don’t respond right away.”
“Me too, Matt man, me too. I don’t like it when people don’t respond.”
“Jesus, man, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. I have too much to think about without threats from my best friend.”
“Look, I don’t mean to threaten. I’m sorry. But please don’t be gone too far or too long. Try to stay straight, okay? Also, while we’re doing this, will you please leave your phone on?”
“Sure, and I will check things out tomorrow. If you know where I might be able to locate her without camping in front of your house it would help.”
“I know she has a ten-thirty at the faigeleh hairdressers’ on Newbury Street. I think the address is 119.”
“Simon, what the fuck’s the matter with you? Faigelehs, for Christ sake?”
“I’m sorry, really. I don’t know what I’m saying. This has me by the short hairs, and I’ve been spending too much time with businessmen, I suppose.”
“Well, go wheel and deal. It will use up some energy.”
There was a pause and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Simon.”
“What?”
“I’ll stick out like a sore thumb on Newbury Street.”
“According to you, you stick out like a sore thumb everywhere. Just remember to keep your phone turned on. I’ll get back to you.”
I filled a shot glass with bourbon and swallowed it in a gulp. The phone began to ring again, but this time I knew better. After the ringing stopped I turned it off. I wasn’t going to stay awake anyhow.