Chapter 32

Brownies are baking again. Otis eats them straight out of the oven, tossing them back and forth in his hands as he goes back downstairs. He’s really getting on his high horse these days, going on about abortion, speed limits, and the right to assembly. Margot thinks he’s getting too evangelical. When he crosses the line, she sticks a cattle caller in his ear. His dentures flew out the other day. “Stop being such a sanctimonious shit,” she said, and went back to her invoicing. The cattle caller sits right next to her. She uses it on delinquent clients. “Send me a check tomorrow or you’ll get worse than this,” she says, blasting the cattle caller into the receiver. As of today, we only have one outstanding payment.

Bisquick takes it all in stride, cleaning up Otis’s crumbs, going for his nipple now and then. Otis tapes them down when the air conditioning’s running. He swats Bisquick away, and Bisquick flies over to Margot’s desk. She’s got him saying, “Pay, or else.” Some clients think it’s cute, others see it as a form of extortion.

We’ve started a new house over on Webster Avenue. Ruby has Muller painting the basement floor. I’m outside on the ladder, getting all the sun I need. After work, we wash up, have brownies, then drive home for dinner. We eat like there’s no tomorrow. Judy figures it’s because we’re outside all day. Mary’s suspicious. She gets me in the sunroom later and says, “I know something’s going on. It better not be why Muller jumped off the roof.” I tell her I don’t know what she’s talking about. She flashes me a look, then she’s back on the baby business. “You’d better do something with Muller,” she says. “How are they going to have a family if he’s jumping off roofs?”

I take Muller aside later and tell him we can’t come home stoned anymore. “Mary suspects something,” I say. He gives me his typical woe-is-me expression. He looks forward to getting stoned with Ruby and Max. He doesn’t say anything. I think that high wire act off the roof did something to his head. He takes naps on the basement floor. Ruby’s being sympathetic, but not the way he’d hoped. She pets him like a dog. “I wish she’d give me a back massage,” he says, driving home. “My back hurts more now than it ever did.”

“Shut up about your back, Muller. Mary’s on my case about this baby business. Have you talked to Judy?”

“I’m not sure I can, Sam.”

“You took a header off a roof. What’s the worst she can do to you?”

“I can’t think straight these days.”

“You know what Krupsky says? He says this crush on Ruby is avoidance. You’re scared of having a baby so you fall for someone else.”

“You talked to him about Ruby?”

“I’m looking for logical reasons not to kill you.”

“I wish I could talk to Ruby.”

“Forget Ruby.”

“Maybe I should write her a letter.”

“I’m telling you she’s not interested.”

“You missed the turn off.”

Mary and Judy are waiting on the front porch when we get home. Everything is out of the boxes, the trophies, the awards, the bottles of whiskey. They’re lined up on the railing like a shooting gallery. Mary has her arms crossed as we come up the steps. “So,” she says, “look what we found cleaning up. Have you been drinking the whole time?” She gives me a long cold, stare. Most women tend to soften with age. It wouldn’t hurt her to sag a bit. “I’m waiting, Sam.”

Judy takes Muller inside but Mary blocks my way. “Another thing,” she says, pulling something out of her apron pocket. “I found this in your shirt this morning. Honestly, at your age I thought you’d know better.” It was one of the grass brownies. “What am I going to do with you?” she says. “You’re drinking on the sly, eating brownies between meals. Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

“That’s about it.”

“Are you sure?”

Well, Margot asked me to grab her ass.