The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [135]
“Yes.”
“Do you approve?”
Barb shook her head. “I like the useful part, and I don’t think about the other.”
“Like the notion of plundering one nation in order to liberate another?”
Barb squeezed his hands. “Stop it. Remember what you do and who you’re talking to.”
Littell laughed. “Don’t say you just want him to be happy.”
Barb laughed. “To a free Cuba, then.”
Janice Tedrow walked in. Littell saw her. Littell watched her. Barb watched him watch.
Janice saw him. Janice waved. Janice grabbed a side booth. She ordered a drink. She faced the TV. She watched Jack and Bobby.
Barb said, “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not. I’m fifty-one years old.”
“You’re blushing. I’m a redhead, and I know a blush when I see one.”
Littell laughed. Barb pulled his sleeve up. Barb checked his watch.
“I have to go.”
“I’ll tell Pete you’re okay.”
“Tell him ‘I’m useful.’ ”
“He knows that already.”
Barb smiled. Barb walked. Barb went knock-kneed. Men stirred. Men watched her. Littell watched the TV.
There’s Bobby with Jackie. There’s Jack in the Senate. There’s old Honey Fitz.
Littell got hungry. Littell ordered dinner—the prime rib he’d missed. The waitress was Jack-struck. The waitress perched by the TV.
Littell ate. Littell watched Janice. Janice watched the TV.
She sipped toddies. She chained cigarettes. She twirled her cane. She didn’t know. Wayne Senior wouldn’t tell her. He knew him well enough to say.
She looked over. She saw him watching. She got up. She maneuvered with her cane.
She cocked one hip. She stabbed her cane. She limped con brio. Littell pulled a chair out. Janice grabbed Barb’s cigarettes.
“That redhead played my Christmas party last year.”
“She’s an entertainer, yes.”
Janice lit a cigarette. “You’re not sleeping with her. I could tell that.”
Littell smiled. Littell twirled her cane.
Janice laughed. “Stop it. You’re reminding me of someone.”
Littell squeezed his napkin. “He used his stick on you.”
Janice twirled her cane. “It was part of the divorce settlement. One million with no beating, two million with.”
Littell sipped coffee. “You’re volunteering more than I asked for.”
“You hate him like I do. I thought you might like to know.”
“Did he find out about General Kinman?”
Janice laughed. “Clark didn’t bother him. The young man in question did.”
“Was he worth it?”
“It was worth it. If I didn’t do something drastic, I would have stayed with him forever.”
Littell smiled. “I thought you had a life sentence there.”
“Seventeen years was plenty. I loved his money and some of his style, but it wasn’t enough anymore.”
Littell spun the cane. “The young man?”
“The young man is a former client of yours, and he’s currently abetting the war effort in Vietnam.”
Littell dropped the cane. Janice snatched it up.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Are you shocked?”
“I’m hard to shock and easy to amuse sometimes.”
Janice squeezed his hands. “And you’ve got old scars on your face that remind me of this temporary harelip of mine.”
“Wayne’s mentor put them there. He’s my best friend now.”
“He’s the redhead’s husband. Wayne told me.”
Littell leaned back. “You’re not playing golf. I’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m retrieving my swing. I’m not going to walk eighteen holes with a cane.”
“I enjoyed watching you play. I scheduled my breaks around it.”
Janice smiled. “I’ve leased a cottage on the Sands course. Your view inspired me.”
“I’m flattered. And you’re right, the view makes all the difference.”
Janice stood up. “It’s off the first hole. The one with the blue shutters.”
Littell stood up. Janice winked and walked away. She waved. She dropped her cane and left it there. She limped molto con brio.
He caught Barb’s tenner. He stood ringside. He killed time. He ducked Jane’s bedtime. He schemed up a trip.
I’ll fly to L.A. You drive back. I’ll meet you.
He drove home. The lights were on. Jane was still up. The TV was on. A newsman mourned Jack at great length.
Littell turned it off. “I have to fly to L.A. tomorrow. I’ll be leaving early.”
Jane spun her ashtray. “It’s abrupt, and we’re coming up on Thanksgiving.