Chapter 87

Ruby calls the day after New Year’s. “We’ve got a bit of a panic, Sam. You up for painting a store? A crew’s coming in with the fixtures and counters on Tuesday. The owner wants two coats on the walls tomorrow. Max is already over there doing some prepping. You in?”

“Sure,” I say. “Pick me up around seven.” I get off the phone, joining Mary in the sunroom. Muller and Judy are watching Margot talk about New Year’s resolutions. Behind her, Otis dances with his arms going like windmills. Ruby bought him an iPod for Christmas. Now his New Year’s resolution is to have fun. “Knock it off, Otis,” Margot yells. She throws a pen and it bounces off his forehead.

“I’m doing my thing, Margot,” Otis says.

“I didn’t do my thing when you were on.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing.”

“Here’s my thing”—stomping on Otis’s toe—“how’s that?” Otis goes hopping around the room. “Now,” Margot says. “What are your New Year’s resolutions, folks? Any new projects? Anyone joining a health club?” The pings go off like mad. Margot reads away, her bifocals slightly askew. “Half of these aren’t worth going into detail,” she says. “The others I can sum up with three words. Get a life.”

More pings. “Look, knock off the stupid stuff. Is anyone doing anything constructive?” Ping, ping, ping, ping. “Here’s one from Lola. She’s expanding her business. Nothing wrong with diversifying. What sort of business, Lola?”

Ping.

“Oh, you’re that Lola. How exactly are you expanding?”

Ping.

“Bigger tits isn’t diversifying, Lola. Otis, get your keister over here. I don’t know what’s wrong with everybody . . .”

Ping.

“Well, thank you for the compliment, Mitch. I do sit ups and push-ups according to the U.S. Military Training Guide. My birthday’s in June. Which, by the way, is when my friend, Sam’s daughter, Judy is having her baby. Great news, Judy.”

Ping.

“Of course she knows who the father is—”

Ping, ping, ping, ping.

“Bunch of dingdongs. Get over here, Otis.”

Otis limps over to the computer. “This goes back to 1966, folks. James Carr doing ‘You’ve Got My Mind Messed Up’, one of his best. Enjoy, folks. Be right back.” He leaves Bisquick watching the record go around and around.

Mary turns off the computer. “That was very sweet of Margot,” Mary says.

“Maybe I should do butt squeezes,” Judy says.

“Just do them in private, sweetheart,” I say.

Muller stretches and yawns. “What did Ruby want, Sam?” he says.

“Another painting job starting tomorrow.”

Judy starts doing butt squeezes. Muller drifts off to sleep. Meek and Beek sit there like a couple of stuffed birds.