Chapter 15

Margot lives in one of the older high-rises just off North Kingsbury. It was an exclusive area once, but now there’s a feeling of a bygone era. Coming off the elevator, I put Bisquick’s cage behind my back. Judy knocks on Margot’s door. There’s shuffling around inside, then Margot answers with her bifocals down her nose. Bisquick lets out a squawk.

“What have you got there?” Margot says.

“Ta da,” I say, pulling the cover off Bisquick’s cage.

“Tatas, tits,” Bisquick squawks.

Margot pushes up her bifocals and examines Bisquick. “That’s a mighty fine bird.”

“Ask him if he wants a sauna,” I say.

“Get in here before the neighbors start looking out their peepholes,” Margot says to us. “What’s the bird’s name?”

“Bisquick,” Judy says.

“This is my daughter, Margot. You remember Judy.”

“Of course I remember Judy. I’m not senile. How are ya, Judy? You’ve grown up to be a fine looking young woman.”

“I’m in my thirties.”

“I’m in my sixties. Take the compliment.”

Margot clears a space for the cage on the dining table. Every square inch is covered with newspapers and Sudoku puzzles. Out on the balcony, Margot has three plastic owls wired to the railing. She opens the cage door and Bisquick hops out. The place is adequate in his opinion. He gives the owls and pigeons equal consideration. “Sit down,” Margot says to us. “You want coffee or anything?”

“We’re fine,” I say. “We just came over to surprise you.”

“What made you think I wanted a bird?”

“Daddy saw you in a dream.”

“A dream?”

“I dreamt of the office last night,” I say. “You were showing me a picture of Joey. I thought you might be missing him.”

“Poor, Joey. Bless his heart. Keeled over one day like a downed Spitfire. Wish I had more pictures of him. So you figured I needed company, did you? That’s very thoughtful.” Bisquick jumps over on her shoulder. “A bird’s a big responsibility, Sam. Especially at my age.”

“You’re not old.”

Bisquick pecks at her breast. “Lord love him,” Margot laughs. “Just like Joey.” Bisquick takes another peck at her breast. “Persistent little rascal,” Margot says.

“He did that to me in the store,” Judy says.

“Just like my Joey.” She pets Bisquick’s head and smiles. “Okay, Sam,” she says. “You done good.” Bisquick bobs his head up and down.

“He does grow on you, doesn’t he?” Judy says.

“That’s a Mynah for you,” Margot says. “Hell of a nipple grabber, though. Guess I’ll have to get used to it. How are you doin’, Sam?”

“Not bad. Judy and her husband are here for their holidays. Maybe we can get you over for dinner.”

“That’s a great idea, Daddy. You’ll come over, won’t you Auntie Margot?”

“I’m not loaded with invitations. What’s your hubby’s name?”

“Muller,” Judy says. “We’re trying to have a baby.”

“Well, honey, it’s not rocket science. When you say ‘trying’, that mean someone’s not pulling his weight?”

“Muller’s a little down lately.”

“Men are all the same. They’re only really good during Lent and halftimes. Got yourself some cute girlie stuff?”

“I’ve tried the stockings, the garters—”

“Let’s leave it at that, shall we?” I say. “I’m sure Auntie Margot can figure out the rest.”

“What’s the bug up your ass?” Margot says.

“Asshole,” Bisquick lets out.

“I’m just saying we get the picture.”

“Look, Judy, you know the drill. Get both parties hot and bothered and let nature do the rest.”

“Asshole,” Bisquick says.

“They’ll figure it out, Margot.”

“Good thing it wasn’t you telling Judy about the birds and the bees. She’d be working in an aviary right now.”

“Daddy never told me about the birds and the bees.”

“You’re a slacker, Sam.”

“She’s in her thirties, for chrissake.”

“It might have helped, Daddy.”

“I’ll give you one piece of advice, Judy,” Margot says. “Don’t leave it to science. Men operate on blood flow only. Right, Sam?”

“Okay, enough.”

“Just trying to help.”

“We should get going. Glad you like Bisquick.”

“Like I said, you done good.”

“Good luck with him, Auntie Margot. Hope you come for dinner.”

“I’ll be there with bells on, kiddo. Good luck with the baby making. Just grab Muller by the ears, Judy. Works every time.”

“Bye, Margot,” I say. “Enjoy the bird.” Bisquick makes another play for Margot’s nipple. He never gives up.