Piece of cake,” Henry cheerfully reported in the elevator. “Easy as pie. But all you have to do in this country is purr at people in a posh accent, and you have them eating out of your ass.”
Jessie laughed appreciatively and Henry was glad again to have her here. So long as he could say such things to Jessie, there was less chance that he’d forget himself and say them on American television.
They came out on the street again. Their bulky, boxy Russian was waiting at the curb. Henry assumed Jessie found the fellow as attractive as he did.
“Thank you, Sasha.” He climbed into the backseat and scooted over to make room for Jessie. “Who’s next? Rosie O’Grady?”
“O’Donnell,” she said. “She’s very important. And popular. Even my mother watches her. She’s kind of smart, but a smart-ass too. She acts like a tomboy from Queens, but used to be an actress. She’ll josh with you, and you can josh back. You don’t have to play any games with her about who you’re seeing and why you’re not married.”
“I never do.”
“And before I forget: Kenneth Prager called. He needs to interview you. I told him he could have fifteen minutes tonight. After the show. He’s the guy who gave you the rave in the Times.”
Henry took in everything with a roll of easy, regal nods. He suddenly stopped. “But Toby’s play is tonight.”
“So?” She thought a moment. “And after that is my brother’s birthday party. You’re still going?” Now she looked worried.
“I’d like to,” he said. “Do you think we can do everything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do we cancel the Times?”
She laughed. “No, we can’t cancel the Times. Not in this town. But Toby’s play is tonight? You can’t see it some other night?”
“I don’t know. I could ask. Would it be possible for me to use—” He pointed at her waist.
“Oh. Sure. Yeah. What’s his number?”
He patted various pockets until he remembered he carried no phone numbers.
“I know where he lives,” said Jessie. “I have their number.” She took a plump little book from her purse, found the number, and entered it. She handed Henry the phone.
He felt like he was holding a pocket calculator against his ear. “It’s ringing,” he told her.
“Hello.” The voice was thick and half-awake.
“Toby?”
“Henry? Oh. Hi. Hey.”
Henry was delighted to hear his live voice. Since Wednesday he had spoken only with Toby’s answering machine. He could almost smell warm bedclothes in the boy’s sleepy, husky tone.
“Good morning, Toby. Sorry to call so early. You’ll never guess where I am. In a hired car on my way to the Rosie O’Grady—I mean, O’Donnell Show.” He grinned at Jessie and turned away into a corner, making a private nest. “A pity you didn’t visit last night. There were paparazzi everywhere. Well, a few. But they would’ve photographed us together. You’d be known as my mysterious companion.”
“Why were there photographers?”
“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t heard. I’ve been cast in a movie. Greville. Do you know it?”
“From the novel? The bestseller?” Now he sounded awake.
Henry was encouraged. “I’m the villain. They’re paying me buckets of money.” He almost confessed how much, but that would be bragging.
“You’re not rich already?”
Henry laughed. “Oh no. Not me. Not yet anyway.”
He was beginning to sound like one of those black rock stars crowing about his bitches and gold chains. To impress Toby?
He cleared his throat. “But I was calling to let you know that there’s a chance I might not be able to get to the show tonight.”
Silence. Then Toby’s words came out in a rush. “But you got to come! You said you would. They’re expecting you. My friends won’t believe me ever again if you don’t come.”
“I’ll do my best. I just wanted to warn you—”
“You gotta be there, Henry. It’s a special performance. Just for you. And after the show, remember, we’re going to Caleb Doyle’s birthday party together.”
“You and I?”
“Yes. He told me to bring you. I told you. Remember?”
Henry looked over his shoulder at Jessie. “Of course you did.”
“And after that,” said Toby, “I thought, well, we could go back to your place.”
“My place?”
“If that’s all right.”
“Maybe.” There was a lightness in Henry’s chest that went first to his cock, then to his face. “I’d like that. Very much.” He was hoping this was where things would end, but thought he would have to cajole and push to achieve it. This was much better. This was more promising. “All right then. I’ll be there.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“You’re on Rosie O’Donnell today? Good, I’ll try to watch.”
“I hope you do. I’d love to hear what you think. American television. I do hope I don’t make a fool of myself.”
“You won’t.”
“That’s so nice of you to say. Well then. Until tonight?”
“See you tonight, Henry.”
Henry made a kissing sound at the device. He pressed the off button. He turned to pass the phone back to Jessie.
The car was stopped at a light. Jessie was watching him with a cool, sardonic, disapproving smirk. Sasha in the front seat was also looking at him: Henry saw an amused pair of Russian eyes in the rearview mirror.
“No,” Henry told Jessie. “I cannot get out of going to this show tonight. Sorry.” He began to chuckle under their scrutiny. “So we’ll just go from one thing to the other, and if we’re a little late, no problem. It’s theater. Where people are always late.”
Jessie irritably stuffed her cell phone back into her purse.
“Do you know this show?” Henry asked her.
“Oh yeah. It was directed by an ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh?” So that’s why she was unhappy. “You don’t have to come, you know. You can go on to your brother’s party and I’ll meet you there.”
“No. I’ll come. I should see it. I’m curious. And I want to make sure you get to Caleb’s party.”
“Good. Yes. Excellent,” said Henry. And Toby would “just happen” to be with them, so both Jessie and Toby would think that Henry was taking him or her to the party. Everyone would be happy.
Henry was quite happy himself right now. It was all falling into place. Everything was going well. Maybe sex would click for Toby tonight in a way it hadn’t on Tuesday.
Leaning back in the soft leather upholstery, he found himself looking up through the rear windscreen at the sky. A tall white skyscraper slowly swung through a tempera blueness full of plump clouds. Then another skyscraper floated past, and another.
“Will you look at that sky,” said Henry. “All those pretty clouds. Pure Constable. What a beautiful day. What a delicious day.”