“Is there a bottle in the house that someone would order if they were trying to impress a friend?”
“Yes sir, it is the 1988 Latour.”
“Is there a bottle in the house that a man would order if he were trying to impress a woman?”
The waiter smiled almost imperceptibly.
“That sir would be the Château Mouton Rothschild 1982. It was considered a monumental year. The price of the bottle…”
I cut him off. “That so?”
He corrected himself. “Well sir, I might tell you that a patron once said it is the bottle you would order for your last night on earth.”
I fished in my jean pocket and pulled out a bundle of pallid Robbie Bordens and handed them to the waiter.
“If there’s not enough you let me know, if there’s too much, keep it.”
“Will do, sir.”
The New York strip loin had been cooked medium rare to perfection. It would be in a place like this. The first morsel was just shy of nirvana. Whatever few steps to heaven were missing, the ‘82 Rothschild built with ease.
I rolled the wine over my tongue, allowing my taste buds to become accustomed to its subtleties. I decided the best thing to do at this time was to have myself an agreeable meal.
I sat in Bardi’s Steakhouse after spending the day amongst the city’s human traffic. If you’ve ever played ‘Hide the Thimble’ then you know the hardest place to find what you’re looking for is in plain sight.
My meeting with Arnie wasn’t until midnight, as his letter had instructed. What kind of person fawns over a $65.00 piece of flesh, swallows $900.00 worth of crushed grapes and then smokes $35.00 of Cuban tobacco while an innocent woman is in the hands of the devil? A man like me, that’s who. Worry is a pitiful human condition and yields no positive results. Better to focus on primal human sensibilities, like a full stomach. A man thinks well on a full stomach.
“Mind if I join you?”
She was the last person I wanted to see right now.
“I’d give anything to wipe the ever-present smirk off your face.”
“Anything?”
“Anything, you crazy bitch.”
“Your soul?”
I said nothing. She had me again.
“Thought not. You act so tough, Willie.” She dipped a finger in my wine glass and slid it between her lips. “I was in the Château when they were bottling this vintage.”
“What do you want, Lamia?”
“No time for pleasantries, always business with you.” She put the backside of her slender hand over her mouth as she yawned. I hated this creature. “I know what you’re up to, Willie.”
“Do you?”
“Oh yes. You’re going to pursue that tired platitude all men love so much. You’re off to play hero and rescue the damsel in distress. What a bore.”
“It’s my fault she’s in trouble.”
“Maybe, but no more yours than it is hers. She could have rejected your advances. She wanted it as much as you did, maybe more, in fact.”
“I don’t expect a creature like you to understand.”
“No need to be mean, Willie. All I’m saying is it’s not all on you.”
I put down my fork and knife. I took a sip of wine to try and clear the bile that was shooting up my throat.
“Give me my supper, won’t you?”
The grin left her face and a look that could almost be mistaken for benevolence replaced it.
“A little advice then. I’d take the subway.”
“I don’t want your advice.”
“Suit yourself. Don’t waste the wine.”
She got up and left the restaurant through the front door like a normal person would do. She also had a point. The subway was the best and most discreet route. I got up from the table, threw a few more Robbies down and walked out. Outside, I lit a Bolivar and started walking in the direction of the subway.
You can get lost in the sway and shift of the subway as it moves along. The train picks up speed and the platform runs away from you. Deep in the tunnels, the grey concrete races past as quickly as everyday life. I caught the train at St. Andrew, transferred at St. George and was now on my way to Jane station. From there, I’d walk. In the meantime, I sat and collected my thoughts. It was one of those rare occasions where I had the entire car to myself. It only lasted three stations though. A lone man got on at Spadina and sat down on the bench across from me as though it were the only seat left in the car. He smiled at me and I, for some inconceivable reason, smiled right back at him.
“Feels like you’re off to war.”
“Excuse me.”
“Sorry for being bold. I can see you’d prefer your space. I can certainly appreciate that. I didn’t mean to be rude or pry.”
As he spoke, I caught a glimpse of his white wolverine Form. I had never seen a Form like that before. I leaned forward on the bench and sized him up.
“You’ve got an accent.”
“I do?”
“Where you from?”
“America, but I’m Canadian.”
“Been there a while?”
“I guess I have.”
“What brings you up this way?”
“Business.”
“Oh yeah, what kind?”
“Music.”
I didn’t care and the man could tell. I had a sudden compulsion to be direct. I felt something strange, like I had known this person in another life.
“What did you mean about going to war?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.”
“Apology accepted, but humour me with an answer.”
“You looked like you were weighed down with some heavy introspection. I know the feeling all too well.”
“That so?”
“Yes.”
“So what’d you do about it?”
“Found a woman.” He didn’t laugh or smile like it was a joke, but rather just stared at me intently. “You married?”
“No. Marriage wasn’t in the cards. You?”
“Yes, recently actually.”
“Kids?”
“A daughter and we just had a son, Jack.”
I smiled at him. This was so far from anything I knew or would ever know and yet I felt a rapport of some sort with this man that was undeniable. I visually interrogated the man without restraint. I found nothing, not even a modicum of untrustworthy characteristics.
“If you are going to war, remember that the real enemy is the one you can’t see.”
“How so?”
“Fear.”
I laughed a little inside at his bullshit, and played into it for the amusement.
“And how do you defeat fear?”
“With a will stronger than that which inflicts the fear.”
“If it’s all the same, I’ll stick with these.” I held up my dukes.
The man looked at the two horribly scarred fists. They were battered and tired. He smiled a sad smile and his right hand subconsciously rubbed his left hand. It was brutally scarred and mangled. I hadn’t noticed, having been so self-absorbed in my own thoughts.
The subway came to a stop and the automated voice announced High Park Station. The man started through the opened doors and then turned back around outside on the platform.
“Take care.” He waved at me.
“Will do, um…”
“Oh sorry, my name’s…” The subway doors closed before he could finish and the train rolled on.
I looked out the window beside me. In the tunnel, the concrete walls streaked by and suddenly gave way to a wide opening in the subway tunnel. I looked out into the void and an uncontrollable shudder riveted through my body. I thought I saw Shrikun enshrouded in darkness, although I couldn’t be sure, as it seemed impossible. I could have sworn I saw hundreds of them, waiting.