Макс Коллинз - Spree

“You got some major exposure because of me, Toni. You got some very nice reviews — that guy in The Village Voice said you were ‘distinctive and powerful.’”

She smiled at that; a sad smile. “The exact words of the review,” she said. “You remembered.”

“Yeah. I remember what he said about my songwriting, too, but let’s not get into that.”

Below them the record store’s stereo was booming; they were open Sundays. Springsteen.

“Springsteen,” Jon said.

“Springsteen,” Toni smiled.

“I hate Springsteen,” Jon said.

“What?”

“I never told you before. Kept it to myself.”

“You don’t like the Boss ?”

“Never have. New Jersey and cars and off-pitch singing. Who needs it? I know it’s like hating motherhood and apple pie, but there it is.”

“Goddamn,” she said. “Even your musical taste is bad.”

“Sorry you feel that way,” he said. “You’re my favorite female singer.”

“Shut up, Jon,” she said. Sad.

The floor beneath their feet pulsed with Springsteen.

“Tell me about the gig,” he said.

She shrugged. “You weren’t so far wrong. It does have to do with Prince.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Another shrug. “It’s his management company. They heard our record. They like my singing. They came looking for me, tracked me down.”

“ I didn’t see any short black guys in purple capes hanging around.”

“Jon, short jokes don’t become you.”

“Hey, Prince is all right with me. I like anybody I can look down to. So. It’s the big time.”

She smiled, nervously. “I don’t know about that. They’re putting me with a band. We’ll be doing some traveling. It’s kind of like playing the minors when they’re grooming you for the majors. Maybe something will come of it.”

He patted her knee. “I’m sure something will. Why were you mad at me, when I came in? Why didn’t you tell me, instead of just starting to pack?”

“You know how I’ve felt about the new band...”

“Sure. I’ve heard the ‘you’re holding me back, Jon’ speech a few hundred times. But I still don’t understand why you were mad at me. I’m the one who should be pissed; I’m the one getting walked out on.”

“But you’re the one who caused it! Jon, you betrayed me.”

“Betrayed...”

She shook her head; the spiky dark hair shimmered. “Ah, hell, that’s too strong a word, but we were supposed to be in this together . It’s your fault we got stalled in Des Moines. It’s your fault a comic book seduced you away from me and music, and your fault that I have to take off without you. Shit, if I thought you wanted it, I would’ve fought to take you with me...”

“They didn’t want me, did they?”

She swallowed. “Jon, I figured you wouldn’t want to come along, anyway. You couldn’t do it without giving up your comic book, and...”

“You’re right. I like doing what I’m doing. Besides, I know it’s you they want. Just you. And I don’t blame ’em. I read the reviews of the album. As a performer/songwriter, I make a great cartoonist.”

“I... I handled this all wrong.”

“There’s no easy way. This place won’t seem the same without you.”

“Jon, uh — you forget. This is my apartment.”

“Yeah?”

“And I rented it from Rick, downstairs, right?” Rick was who Toni worked for in the record store, the manager, the owner of the building.

“Right.”

“And you remember when you and Rick got in that argument?”

“You mean, when we got drunk that time and I told him he liked funk because of ‘liberal guilt’ and he belted me and I belted him back and chipped his tooth? Yeah. I remember that.”

“Good. Then you’ll understand when I tell you that when I told Rick I was leaving, he refused to turn the lease over to you.”

“What?”

“He really hates you.”

“You could’ve sublet to me!”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Great. How long do I have to get out?”

“Monday.”

“What Monday?”

She winced. “Tomorrow.”

“You mean, you’re evicting me? You’re fucking evicting me?”

“Well... Rick is.”

“Jesus! When... how...”

“Prince’s people called me Friday. I talked to Rick yesterday afternoon.”

He stood; started to pace, the Boss pulsing beneath his feet; he wished he were walking on Rick’s face — he wished he were walking on Springsteen’s face, for that matter.

“I leave for two days,” he said, ranting, raving, “and come back, and my life’s shot to shit!”

Toni seemed genuinely concerned, now. “Jon — you can find someplace to crash. You’ll put things back together soon enough.”

“Christ, I got a deadline to meet with my comic book! I just lost two days in Cedar Rapids being civil to rude little fan boys who would’ve much rather met the guy who draws the X-Men! I have work to do, and you’re telling me I don’t have anyplace to sleep tonight.”

“Tonight you do. He wants you out tomorrow noon.”

“Oh, wonderful. Wonderful. It’s nice to have a little lee-way .”

“You’ll put it back together. Jon, it’s not like we... well, we’re just friends. We’re not lovers.”

“I guess we aren’t,” he said. He sat down again. “But I’m awful used to you.”

“Maybe that isn’t such a good thing. This’ll be good for you.”

“What’ll I do? Where will I crash? Where the hell’s my short-term future, anyway? Never mind the long term.”

She shrugged. “Why don’t you go visit your pal Nolan. In the Quad Cities. Stay with him awhile. It might be relaxing.”

It might at that, Jon thought.

“In the meantime,” she said, wickedly, pulling off her Springsteen sweatshirt, exposing the full firm breasts he would soon be missing very much, “why don’t you fuck me good-bye?”

“What are friends for?” Jon shrugged, pulling off his Space Pirates shirt, quite sure that of the ways he was getting screwed this afternoon, this would be the most pleasant.

Family meant everything to Coleman Comfort. Family and money. Not that you could separate the two: Cole’s loyalty to his kin was measured by money, by how good a provider he could be. As a wise man once said, there was no better yardstick of love than money.

Not that he bore the burden on his shoulders alone. He had taught his sons that you had to work in order to find your way in this world. The oldest, Clarence, had gone into construction and was making a fine living for himself and his wife and four kids, till the accident with the crane. Since Clarence’s death, Cole had seen to it that his daughter-in-law got a check every month, or he had till she remarried, to some jerk who owned a motel. He wasn’t bitter about that or anything: he didn’t expect a fine young woman like Wanda to stay single. It was just that the family responsibility had shifted to the jerk.

As for the other boys, he couldn’t complain. Willis would be out of Fort Madison in about a year; the boy had been doing just fine with that chop-shop operation in Dubuque — he just had a thing or two to learn about greasing the law, is all. You can’t run a business without certain expenses, and payoffs was one of them. But, hell. Those two years inside would be just the education Willis would need to get himself back on track.

Lyle, well, he was doing good, considering. Considering he’d inherited both Thedy Sue’s good looks and her meager brainpower.

Thedy, bless her soul, was the prettiest thing Cole ever saw. He’d married her during the war; he was selling tires and such on the black market in Atlanta and she was a backwoods girl come to the big city. She was waitressing but Cole knew she’d fall into hooking if some knight in shining armor didn’t come along, which was Cole Comfort all over. He gave her some nylons and they were married soon after.