Barney's Version - Mordecai Richler [139]
“You would get him drunk before bringing him out here, never mind that I’ve been standing over the hot stove all day.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Now you’ll have to sit here and talk to me, pretending we’re a real couple. Or should I get you a magazine?”
“He’s awfully sick, you know.”
“I don’t want him smoking in bed. He could set the house on fire.”
“He doesn’t smoke. Bad for your health, he says.”
“Where are you going? I haven’t even served the lamb yet. Or are you not hungry either?”
“I was just going to pour myself a Scotch.”
“Well, in that case, bring the bottle to the table, so you don’t have to jump up every two minutes.”
“Zowie, are we ever in for a few days of fun here.”
“You don’t know the half of it. I had to empty your pockets before I took your suit to the cleaners Tuesday, and this is what I found.”
Oy oy oy. A bill from Regal Florists for a dozen long-stemmed red roses. “Oh, that,” I said, reaching for the bottle.
“I thought that was so sweet of you. I washed out a vase and I didn’t dare leave here all day — in case I missed the delivery.”
“I guess they couldn’t find the cottage.”
“Your nose is getting longer by the minute.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m a liar?”
“Suggesting? No, honeybunch. I’m saying.”
“That’s outrageous.”
“Who were they for?”
“As a matter of fact, the purchase was entirely innocent, but I refuse to be interrogated in this manner in my own home.”
“Which one of your whores were the roses for?”
“You’re going to be awfully embarrassed when those roses turn up here tomorrow morning.”
“Only if you sneak out to the general store and put in an emergency phone call for another dozen. I want to know if you keep a whore in an apartment somewhere.”
“Only one?”
“I’m waiting for you to answer my question.”
“I could prove my innocence and answer your question just like that,” I said, flicking my fingers, “but I don’t care for your tone of voice, or your insults.”
“I’m the one who’s behaving badly?”
“Absolutely.”
“Now tell me who the roses were for.”
“An actress we’re trying to get to commit to a pilot I’m planning.”
“Where does she live?”
“Somewhere in Outremont, I think. But how would I know? That’s what I have a secretary for.”
“Somewhere in Outremont?”
“Côte St-Catherine Road, I think.”
“You want to try again?”
“This is ridiculous. The lamb is delicious. Really excellent. Why can’t we enjoy our dinner like two civilized people?”
“I phoned Regal Florists, pretending to be your secretary —”
“You had no business doing such a —”
“— and the guy there wanted to know if you wished to change your standing order. A dozen long-stemmed red roses once a week to an address in Toronto. No, I said, but I wanted to check the party’s name. That must have made him suspicious, because he said, ‘I’ll have to look that up and call you back.’ So I hung up. Now tell me the name of your whore in Toronto.”
“I refuse to sit here any longer,” I said, leaping up, my bottle of Macallan in hand, “and tolerate this manner of questioning.”
“You’re sleeping in the other spare bedroom tonight, and if your friend, the druggie, wants to know why, tell him to ask me. Does he know you’re taking tap-dance lessons?”
“Tell him. I don’t mind.”
“I can’t wait for him to see you in that straw hat and cane. You look like such a shmuck.”
“I suppose I do,” I said.
“My father saw right through you. If I had listened to him, may he rest in peace, I wouldn’t be in this position.”
“Married beneath yourself.”
“I’m an attractive young woman by any standard,” she said, her voice cracking, “intelligent,