David Handler - The shimmering blond sister

“Dear, kindly go away, will you?” Dex said to her quietly.

Maddee’s eyes widened with alarm, as if he’d just smacked her in the face. “Why, of course,” she murmured, scurrying off to the hors d’oeuvres table.

“Please excuse my wife, Mitch. Myself, I ask for no sympathy. I merely wish to live the remainder of my life in peace. I often think of a favorite quote of mine by Mencken: ‘American jurisprudence has been founded upon the axiom that it is the first duty of every citizen to police his neighbors, and especially those he envies or otherwise dislikes.’ Often overlooked these days, Mencken. Quite a shame. He possessed a fine, clear mind.” Dex fell silent for a moment before he added, “I enjoy your essays on the cinema very much. I admire people who write with passion. Or do anything with passion. That’s something I’ve lacked my entire life. I never wanted to head up Farrell and Co., you see. It was expected of me. And so, like a dutiful son, I did what I was expected to do. Unfortunately, some of the fellows whom I trusted-classmates of mine, good friends-did not. They turned their backs on sound financial practices and made our credit rating system over into a trillion-dollar game of three-card monte. Lying thieves, the whole lot of them. They fed me a steady diet of disinformation. I should have figured out what they were up to. Rolled up my sleeves, knocked heads. But I never loved the business enough to care.”

“Forgive me for asking, sir, but if you didn’t know what was going on why didn’t you admit that to Congress?”

Dex stared at him in disbelief. “Point the finger at someone else? Where’s the honor in that?”

“But it’s cost you your career, your good name.”

“Perfectly appropriate under the circumstances. It was my name on the door. Although I refuse to beat myself up over it. I intend to thoroughly enjoy the time I have left on this Earth.” Dex sipped his gin and tonic, gazing out at the roses again. “Why are we here, Mitch?”

“I’m here because Kenny and I were friends back when we were kids.”

“No, I mean all of us. The human race. Have you a favorite thinker on the subject?”

“Yes, I do. My favorite philosopher has always been Mays.”

“Mays?” Dex repeated. “Don’t believe I’m familiar with Mays. First name is…?”

“Willie. He captured the essence of our existence with eight simple words: ‘I see the ball. I hit the ball.’ ”

Dex stared at him blankly. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“Only a little. The truth is I have no idea why we’re here. Do you?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Dex answered firmly. “Drop by some time and we’ll discuss it over a glass of lemonade. No need to call. Just come by. I cherish stimulating conversation.”

Beth’s doorbell rang once again. She went inside to answer it, and reappeared this time with Hal Chapman in tow. Mitch’s trainer wore a tight-fitting pink Izod shirt, tan shorts and flip-flops. His skullet was wet. He seemed to be fresh out of the shower. Also a bit ill at ease.

Mitch went over to say hey.

Hal bumped knucks with him, grinning. “How goes it, bro?”

“Good, thanks,” he said as the master sergeant joined them. “Hal, do you know Des Mitry?”

“We’ve never met.” Des studied Hal with those pale green eyes of hers. “But Mitch can’t stop raving about your skills.”

“It’s my man here who does all of the hard work. I’m just there for him, that’s all.” Hal pulled a cold Sam Adams from the washtub and popped it open. “Kimberly said to stop by after I locked up for the night. Free shrimp, right?”

“And devilled eggs.” Mitch helped himself to four more.

Kenny wandered over and said, “Good to see you again, Hal.”

“And you, bro. ”

“Lapidus, your mom tried to tell me what you do for a living. I didn’t understand one word of it.”

“I’m just a glorified geek, Berger. I used to work out of my rotten little apartment on Trowbridge Street. Now I have an office with thirty-two full-time employees, contracts up the wazoo. It’s pretty neat.”

“And you and Kimberly are going to live up there?”

“That’s the plan. We’ll keep house there during the week and spend weekends here so Kimmy can still teach a few classes and see her folks. I should think you’d be happy about this, Hal.”

Hal stiffened, his nostrils flaring. “How would you know what would make me happy?”

“It’s a promotion, right? You’ll be in charge of the place Monday through Friday.”

“Meaning what?” Hal demanded angrily, thrusting his jaw in and out. Mitch hadn’t known this, but his trainer could turn from a gentle lamb into a red-faced rage monkey in the blink of an eye. “You think I’m some loser who’s starving for crumbs?”

Kenny was aghast. “No, absolutely not. You’re totally misunderstanding what I’m-”

“And why’s that?” Hal was breathing heavily now. “Because I’m some stupid pinhead?”

Kimberly darted over to them, her brow furrowing with concern. “Kenny doesn’t think that at all, Hal,” she assured him, her voice low and soothing. “No one does.”

Kenny nodded his head. “She’s right. Chill out, man.”

“Don’t tell me to chill out!” roared Hal, shoving him roughly.

Kenny staggered back against the food table, rattling the dishware and glasses.

Mitch stepped between the two of them, suddenly feeling as if he’d been teleported back to the Stuyvesant Town playground. “Dial it down, Hal. Just take it easy.”

Hal gave him a shove, too. “Don’t try to tell me what to do!”

Mitch shoved him back. “I’m not trying to tell you. I’m telling you.”

Des stood right there, in uniform, watching them-but opting not to intercede.

Hal took a deep breath in and out, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. This was a bad idea. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Then he stormed out the screen door and out of there.

“Good lord…” Maddee Farrell gasped, watching him go.

“I shouldn’t have invited him,” Kimberly blurted out. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, dear,” Beth said.

“No, it totally was. Hal used to think he had a crush on me. Not that anything ever happened between us. I-I thought he was over it. I was wrong.”

Kimberly wasn’t alone. There was plenty of wrongola to go around, Mitch realized. He’d thought Hal was easygoing. And Des had called him a man who was living the dream. He wasn’t. He was living the nightmare-in love with a coworker who had feelings for someone else. Clearly, the man was boiling with jealousy and resentment. So much that Mitch wondered if Kimberly was being totally candid with them. Had she and Hal been romantically involved at some point in the not-so-distant past? He wondered. Same as he wondered if Des could cross Hal Chapman off of her list of suspects after all.

He had no doubt that she was standing there thinking the very same thing.

Real? Des was standing there thinking just how impossible men could be.

Because she’d been so tempted to step in when Hal went nutso on Kenny. It was her job to keep the peace. But she’d resisted the impulse, hard as that was. She had to. Men got into squabbles. They needed to blow off steam. They also needed to settle things in their own way. Which Mitch had done. If she hadn’t let him do that-if she’d played mommy cop-then she’d have made Mitch look weak in front of his friend. He’d have resented it. Yet if things had gotten out of hand-like, say, if Hal had started swinging-then she’d have been guilty of standing there in her uni doing squat.

Sometimes, her job made a relationship with a man into a tightrope walk.