I dreamed that a gorgeous blond angel abducted me and whisked me away to her heavenly abode.
I woke up in Debby’s apartment over the bar, on her couch.
When I tried to sit up somebody dropped a lead weight on the top of my head. Balancing it carefully, so it wouldn’t do too much damage, I padded barefoot — and bare-assed, for that matter — to the bathroom and, lead weight and all, got under a cold shower. The water rusted the metal weight until it crumbled and fell apart and was washed down the drain. Then and only then did I leave the shower.
Rosellen was leaning against the wall by the door of the bathroom, holding a large bath towel, looking me over from dripping head to soggy toes.
“Sorry,” I told her, “I don’t really look my best.”
She did, though. Her best feature, those big, clear, sparkling blue eyes were crinkled in amusement as she boldly inspected every inch of my nude bod.
“You look fine to me, Henry,” she told me, “mighty fine.”
Her boldness, and situation in general, had me drifting to half mast already, and if I didn’t get that towel something was going to happen between us.
“Towel, please?”
“Want me to dry your back,” she asked, “or any other part of your anatomy?” She was staring pointedly at one particular part.
In the past few days I’d met more lovely women than I ever imagined I could, but so many of them were giving me fits that I really didn’t want to get involved with another at the moment.
I think that’s why I was keeping Debby at a distance.
I know that’s why I reached out and took the towel from Rosellen’s hand and wrapped it around my waist.
“Oh,” she pouted, “what a shame.”
“Breakfast ready?”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” she asked. “Okay, get dressed and by the time you come down it will be ready, master.”
She turned and sauntered out of the bathroom and down to the kitchen.
I removed the towel from, my waist and dried myself off — carefully.
I found my clothes on a chair in the living room and they had been washed and dried. I put them on and, except for needing a shave — and a new bandage on my head — I felt vaguely human.
I checked my head in the mirror and it didn’t look too bad, not if I combed my hair forward. I found a comb, used it and replaced it exactly where I’d found it.
I paid Debby the supreme compliment of not bothering to check my wallet, found the stairway leading downstairs and went to the kitchen.
When I got there, and my nostrils were assailed by the odors of cooking, I almost ran back up the stairs. Bravely, I thought, I pushed on and was soon in complete control of my stomach.
Rosellen smiled at me, as if we both shared a great secret, and greeted me with a hearty, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Everything come out all right?” she asked, smiling openly.
“You know, if I was in better shape, you would have been in a lot of trouble.”
“Promises, promises. All talk and no action, I know your type. Want to eat?”
“Oh, please.”
“How do you feel?”
“I’m alive,” I told her. “I guess I tied on a pretty good one last night, huh? I don’t usually succumb like that to half a dozen beers.”
“Half a dozen?” she asked. “According to Debby, she’s going to have to restock early this month, thanks to you,” she said laughing.
I grinned sheepishly. “I guess I kind of lost count.”
“Good morning, all. “Debby came into the kitchen with a tray of empty plates. “You look a lot better than you did last night.”
“You should have seen what I saw a little while ago,” Rosellen told her, grinning at me again in that “we’ve got a secret” way.
“I feel better,” I told Debby, ignoring Rosellen as best I could. “Thanks for the loan of your couch.”
“Anytime,” she told me. “Breakfast?”
Why did people keep mentioning that?
“I think I’ll take a chance on coffee, but that’s as brave as I want to get this morning.”
“You go outside,” Debby told me. “I’ll bring it out.”
I went out and sat at a table, trying to remember everything that had gone through my head the night before, while I was drinking up Debby’s stock.
After a while, I decided to stop pushing it. It would all come back soon enough, probably as soon as I stepped outside in the cool September breeze, laced liberally with good old New York grunge.
I was so successful with the first cup of coffee that I decided to try a second, but that was still as brave as I got. After the second cup I decided it was time to get started, as it was already ten o’clock.
“Debby, thanks for baby-sitting,” I said, carrying my cup to the bar.
“You ever need a baby-sitter again, give me a call. I work cheap,” she told me.
“That reminds me,” I said, taking out my wallet.
“Henry — ” she started, but I interrupted.
“Debby, you’re in business to make money,” I told her, taking out a twenty — leaving a very lonely five-dollar bill inside.
I gave her the twenty and said thanks again.
I tapped her nose with my finger, called out good-bye to Rosellen, and left.
I had the feeling that this would be a regular hangout for me from now on.
I wonder what those two would be like, I was thinking as I walked down the street, together …
With an effort I got my mind back to business.
I went back to my apartment to refill my wallet, then got my car from the garage. The walk from Debby’s did me a world of good. I felt so rejuvenated that I overtipped the guy who brought my car down.
When I got behind the wheel and began driving crosstown, I wondered where the hell I was going. I had to give Shukey time to work on Lassiter, and I didn’t think I should get too near Hopkins again, not yet, anyway. As much as I would have liked to see Lisa again, I really had no more questions for her.
I decided to check Melendez’s place much more thoroughly than I had last time. Then, I had only been interested in whether or not he was there.
Louie Melendez lived in Chelsea, in a battered walk-up that needed fumigating and paint. Walking up to the fourth floor I passed three different puddles of fresh urine.
Ambiance.
I knocked on his door first, but when I didn’t get an answer I slipped the lock with a credit card and went in.
It was a two-roomer with bare wooden floors, sparse furnishings, peeling wallpaper. There were some framed photographs hanging on the walls. I went over to check them out and sure enough, I found that they all contained Penny Hopkins, either alone or with a horse, or a group of jockeys. It was like a shrine in her honor.
Melendez really had it bad for her.
In the living room was an old, second-hand couch, and an overstuffed chair with some of the stuffing sticking out. No tables of any kind. The second room was the bedroom, with a four-poster bed — unmade — one wooden chair and a hot plate. Melendez had obviously rented the place furnished. The photos, the hot plate and the clothing in the dresser drawers were probably all he had contributed to the contents.
When I opened the top drawer of the dresser I found some curious contradictions to his obvious — love, I guess you’d have to call it — for Penny Hopkins.
First, black-and-white photos of nude men, most of them with erections, some shot from behind. Some of them were alone, some with other males as partners. I didn’t recognize any of the men, for which I was thankful.
Next I found a couple of sex manuals, dealing with hetero, not homosexual relationships. I leafed through them and found some passages marked off, as if of special interest to him. He had marked off sections dealing with oral sex, anal sex, female erogenous zones, specifically the breasts and vaginal area.
Melendez was very obviously a confused young man.
I hadn’t much doubt now that he was a homosexual, but meeting Penny had obviously caused him to make attempts to learn something about sex between men and women. He had hopes of ending up in bed with pretty Penny, and he wanted to be able to know how to please her when they got there.
I was standing there, black and whites in one hand, sex manuals in the other, when I heard a noise from the front room.
The front door opened, then closed.
Someone was in the apartment with me.
I dropped the stuff I was holding in my hands back into the drawer and closed it quietly. Being as silent as I possible could, I crossed the room and flattened myself against the wall, right beside the doorway.
The floorboards in the living room creaked as whoever it was walked across the room toward the room I was in.
Whoever he was, I hoped he wasn’t bigger than me.