Эд Макбейн - Barking at Butterflies and other stories

“I guess I’d have said I was bringing it in for repair or something.”

“Would she have believed that? Does she trust you?”

“Oh, sure. I’ve never given her reason not to trust me. Why shouldn’t she trust me?”

“Well, if you go around sneaking movie projectors into your car...”

“I didn’t sneak it in. I just carried it out. She wasn’t even home, in fact.”

“Where was she?”

“At the shop. Mae owns a little antiques shop in Mamaroneck.”

“Oh? What’s it called?”

“Something Old.”

“Really?” Millie said. “That’s a darling shop! Does your wife really own it? I’ve been in there several times. Which one is your wife?”

“Well, there are only two of them in the shop, and one of them’s sixty years old. My wife’s the other one.”

“The little brunette? She’s very attractive. I bought an ironstone pitcher from her last month. What’d you say her name was?”

“Mae.”

“That’s a pretty name. Very springlike.”

“Yes. Well, it’s M-A-E, you understand.”

“Oh, not M-A-Y?”

“No, M-A-E,” he said, and they both fell silent.

“Well,” she said.

“Well,” he said.

“Did you register as Mr. and Mrs. McIntyre?” she asked.

“Yes. Well, I couldn’t very well register as Mr. and Mrs. Di Santangelo, could I?”

“Why not?”

“I’d still be up there signing the card,” he said, and laughed. “Di Santangelo’s an unusually long name, you see.”

“My maiden name was longer. Are you ashamed of being Italian?” she asked abruptly.

“Ashamed? No, no, why should I be ashamed?”

“It just seems strange to me that you’d choose a Wasp name like McIntyre...”

“It’s not a Wasp name.”

“Did you choose it last night? When you were putting the projector in the car?”

“No, I chose it when I was registering.”

“My mother would die on the spot if she knew I was in a motel room with a Wasp named McIntyre.”

“It’s not Wasp, it’s Roman Catholic.”

“Worse yet,” Millie said. “Is your wife Italian, too?”

“She’s Scotch.”

“Do you think we can get something to drink?” Millie asked.

“As a matter of fact, I have a bottle in the car,” Frank said.

“My, you’re very well appointed, aren’t you?” she said, and smiled. “A projector in the trunk...”

“Well, I figured...”

“But maybe we just ought to leave,” she said. “Find a bar on the way back.”

“Oh, sure, we can do that, if you want to.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Well, this is a nice comfortable room, we might just as well... would you like a drink, Millie?”

“I would love a drink,” she said, and he rose instantly and started for the door. “But not if it’s any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he said, and went outside again.

She debated taking off her boots, and decided against it. She sat on the edge of the bed instead. There was a Magic Fingers box on the side of the bed. She read the instructions silently, took off the boots after all, inserted a quarter into the box, and lay back on the bed. The bed was still vibrating when Frank came back into the room. He was carrying a brown paper bag.

“Are you having a massage?” he asked.

“It said ‘soothing and relaxing.’ ”

“Is it?”

“It’s soothing,” she said. “I don’t know how relaxing it is.” The machine suddenly stopped, the bed stopped vibrating. “Ooo,” she said. “Now I miss it.”

“Shall I put another quarter in?”

“No, I think a drink might be more relaxing,” she said, and sat up. “I don’t ordinarily drink, you know. Michael’s the big drinker. Do you have a drink when you get home at night?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How many drinks do you have?”

“One or two. Usually two.”

“Michael also has one or two, but usually three. For a fellow who’s on such a strict diet, he sure knows how to put away his whiskey. Jewish men aren’t supposed to be big drinkers, you know. There are statistics on that sort of thing.” She smiled and said, “I probably married the only Jew in Larchmont who has three glasses of whiskey before dinner. Big glasses, too.”

“Are you from Larchmont originally?” Frank asked.

“No, the Bronx. Michael was born in Larchmont, though. We met at a dance. He used to play alto saxophone in a band. Would you like to hear something strange? The first time he took me out, he told me he was going to marry me. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“No, that’s what I told Mae the first time I dated her.”

“Really?”

“Mm-huh. Let me get some glasses and ice,” he said, and went into the bathroom.

“Is there a little instruction booklet or something?” Millie asked.

“No, just the ice machine,” he said. “Under the sink here.”

“I mean, that you fellows consult before dating a girl for the first time. I think it’s extraordinary that you and Michael would have used the same line on two separate girls. Don’t you think that’s extraordinary?”

“No,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. “In fact, it wasn’t a line with me. I really meant it.” He walked to the dresser, and poured Scotch into both glasses. “I knew immediately that I wanted to marry her. Did you want water in this?”

“No, thanks,” she said.

Frank handed her one of the glasses. “Well... cheers,” he said, and clinked his glass against hers.

“Cheers,” Millie said, and drank. “Wow!” she said.

“Too strong? I can...”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, gasping. “Before you got married...?”

“Yes?”

“Did you go to bed with your wife? I don’t mean to be personal.”

“No, no, that’s a perfectly legitimate question. We’re both adults, after all, and if we’re going to be honest with each other, we should be entirely honest.”

“Precisely,” Millie said. “ Did you go to bed with her?”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“Every now and then,” Frank said. “We were at school together, you see. The University of Pennsylvania. It was very convenient.”

“It was very convenient for Michael and me, too.”

“It’s even more convenient for the kids nowadays. My son, for example...”

“How old did you say he was?”

“Nineteen. He’s a sophomore at Yale.”

“Does he have a beard?”

“A mustache.”

“Michael has a mustache, too.”

“I was saying that the kids don’t give a second thought to it nowadays. It’s all very natural and casual with them.”

“Natural maybe,” Millie said, “but I don’t think casual.”

“Well, it should be a very natural thing, you know. Sex, I mean.”

“Yes, but not casual. I don’t think it should be casual, do you? Sex, I mean.”

“No. But I do think it should be natural. Would you like to take off your jacket or something?”

“It is warm in here, isn’t it?” She took off the suit jacket, and tossed it to the foot of the bed. “You were saying about your wife...”

“My wife?”

“About sleeping with her all the time.”

“Well, not all the time. But we were on the same campus for four years.”

“That’s a long time to be sleeping with somebody.”

“Especially if her father is a Methodist minister,” Frank said.

“ My father runs a Buick agency in the Bronx,” Millie said. “Did you deliberately set out to marry a Wasp? I mean, because you’re ashamed of being Italian and all?”

“Hey, come on,” Frank said, laughing, “I’m not ashamed of being Italian. And besides, I don’t think of Mae as a Wasp.”