Chapter 89

We’re all going to this Mardi Gras party Muller’s catering. It’s open to the public and promises to be quite the affair. Krupsky and Emma are coming, too. He figures it’s a good chance to practice our rumbas. Once word got over to Otis’s place, the whole gang decided it would be a blast. Ruby’s even taking a few days off to make outfits. When I dropped over there earlier, everyone was in the rec room getting fitted. Material covered the floor. Ruby was hemming sleeves and collars while Otis blubbered away on air. “Get over here so I can fit you, Otis,” she said. “You’ve cried enough for one day.”

Margot and Ruby are wearing these crazy gowns, Otis looks like a gay pirate, Max and Zack resemble stable boys on crack. Mary and Emma are sewing away here at home, trying to get enough material to go around Muller’s waist. Krupsky and I are going as gauchos. Mary hopes we’ll get a chance to do the tango.

The palladium is up near Berger Park, a long building by the water with marquis flashing, spotlights beaming across the sky. Inside, it’s all beads, headdresses and masks. Max and Zack head for the bar, Ruby drags Otis out on the dance floor. We see Muller at one of the serving tables with feathers in his hair. Music plays, people dance, drinks are poured. A rumba chain forms and we all join in. Bums go up and down, glitter drops on the floor. Outside, big heaters glow red on the patio.

I go out for a cigar and Krupsky follows. We stand against the railing and look at the water. “You know, Sam,” he says. “I must thank you.”

“For what?”

“This,” he says. “All this,”—pointing his cigar— “the whole works. You got me tangoing again. I’m indebted, I really am.” He looks at the sky. “The moon is up. All is well.”

“I think you’re drunk, Krupsky.”

“Have it your way, Sam. I know what I am. How about you? Have you figured out what you are yet?”

“I’ve got the same last name as Tony Bennett.”

“Does it help knowing that?”

“Not particularly.”

“Sam”—putting his hand on my shoulder—“what would make you happy?”

“Seriously?”

“Shoot.”

“I’d like, just once, for you to fall on your ass.”

“That’s it?”

“That’d do it.”

Ruby drags Otis out on the deck and pins him to the wall. Otis squeals like a pig. Krupsky tosses his cigar over the railing and goes inside. I look across the parking lot. Just beyond the point is the place where Muller tried to drown himself last summer. I can’t imagine him doing anything like that now. Krupsky says it’s a big universe. That’s all we know. I guess he’s right. Just eat what’s solid, and spit out air. I go inside and find Mary. Krupsky’s dancing with Margot. “Come on,” Mary says, pushing through a group of people throwing balloons in the air. “Watch my feet this time.”

Margot’s not much of a dancer outside of the crazy shake-a-leg stuff she does in Otis’s basement. It’s still amazing how Krupsky leads her through cazas and baldosas. The other dancers are giving them room, clapping and banging on tambourines. Krupsky caminandos Margot between different couples. Voices yell Como vai and Krupsky moves faster, spinning Margot, going off in one direction, then another. We lose sight of them as they move between feathered heads. Then there’s a crash. A table topples over, glasses smash. We push through the crowd. Margot and Krupsky are on the floor. “Are you two okay?” I say.

Margot tries to stand up. Her dress is caught under Krupsky. “We were chugging along just fine,” Margot says. “Then we dropped like a bomb.”

“Are you okay, Krupsky?”

“Just fine, Sam.” Krupsky sits up and wipes his jacket. He smiles at me. Then the crazy bastard winks.