Colin Harrison - The Havana Room

"You knew her?"

"Sure." Jay smiled, painfully.

"I miss her," she admitted. "I think about her lots."

"You look like her, you know."

"Yeah. But it just makes me sad."

Jay nodded, gnawing his lip.

"Okay," called Gabriel. "That's it!"

"Listen," Jay said to Sally Cowles, his voice hoarse with sorrow. "I've got to ask you a little favor."

"What?" She looked around to check on the others. "Is this what all this is about?"

"Hurry up, Rainman," said Gabriel.

"I want to ask you if you'll let me feel the inside of your ear. Real quick."

"That's pretty gross."

"A little, yes," Jay agreed. "That's the last thing I'll ask you."

"Well, I guess." She flipped her hair back behind her ears and leaned forward a little.

Jay took a deep, troubled breath, then reached out with his right hand. His daughter jerked in surprise when he touched her. "Easy," he murmured. His fingers touched her ear in front of her long hair, and his thumb gently ran along the inside ridge of cartilage. She looked at him and at me.

"Duck your head down a bit," he instructed.

This she did, trying not to cry.

"It's okay," I said.

Jay rubbed his daughter's ear.

"Is this-" Sally began, pulling away.

"Don't move," Jay commanded. "There." He closed his eyes, remembering, measuring the time since he'd last touched his daughter. Thirteen-odd years earlier, in a park in London, Eliza already married to Cowles, already stolen away. Jay let his fingers fall from Sally's ear.

"Yes?" I said gently.

He nodded in silence.

Sally hunched fearfully, cutting her eyes back and forth.

"Sally," Jay began, his voice grieving.

"Don't!" I said sharply. "Don't do it, Jay."

"Why?"

"Because there's no need." I matched his gaze. "It only amounts to cruelty."

Sally looked back and forth between us. "What's everyone talking about?"

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"The money," Gabriel said.

"In a leather tool bag," answered Jay. He pulled a single key from his pocket. "Utility closet, first-floor hallway."

"Hold them here," Gabriel told Denny. He took the key and left the car.

We waited. I watched. I watched a father study his child. Jay's eyes traced the line of Sally's forehead, then her eyes, down her nose, across her lips, under her chin, caressing, holding, knowing her. "Your mother was a fine person," he said finally.

Sally didn't answer.

"And-" He coughed, then gathered something from deep within, a certainty, a will. "And, your father- your father loves you very much."

Jay had said it, had brought it forth out of himself.

"Thank you," Sally said, trying to sound cheerful and appreciative. "I love him, too."

Gabriel returned, carrying the bag. He was on the phone as well. "Bring him anyway? Fine. She can go?" He hung up.

"Miss," he said brusquely, "leave us immediately."

"I can go?" said Sally.

"Yes, get out of the car, now." He tossed Jay's keys into the car, hitting me in the head. He told me, "Here, put your fucking fingerprints all over these. Every one."

"Okay," Sally said, grabbing her backpack. "Actually, my dad works right here."

Gabriel looked to Jay and then me in confusion.

"Let her out," I said, taking the keys in my hand.

He opened the door. "Scram."

Sally leapt past him, landed on the sidewalk, and turned around to be sure she wasn't pursued. I could see that the whole episode baffled her. She'd been kidnapped for perhaps half an hour only to be delivered to her father's office. So it hadn't quite turned out like a kidnapping, really, just a bizarre episode. The anxiety drained out of her face, replaced by loveliness and curiosity. She actually bent at the waist and peered back into the car. I think she was looking for Jay, and he returned her gaze, his eyes sad.

Then the door shut and we were on our way.

Jay turned to his interrogators, coughing. "What do you need us for?"

"Boss wants a final word," answered Gabriel. "Every key," he said to me. Then he inspected the bag of cash. "Very beautiful, the sight of money," he said. "Causes optimism in human beings." He reached under his seat and slid out a leather case and nudged its lid open with his foot. Inside were small boxes of ammunition. He grabbed one and slipped it into his breast pocket. Then he noticed me watching.

Ten minutes later the car glided up to the restaurant. Gabriel had Denny make sure the heavy door was open. Lamont came out and hustled Jay and then me inside.

The main dining room was empty, all the places set perfectly, awaiting the roar of customers in a few hours. Would the restaurant's staff start to arrive as late as four, as Allison had said? Somebody had to put the wine in the cooler, start counting out steaks.

"Down the stairs, gentlemen," Gabriel directed, and we descended the nineteen marble steps.

In the Havana Room Jay confronted the sight of Allison and Ha in the far booth, H.J. waiting. Something passed between Allison and Jay that I didn't understand.

"All right," H.J. announced. "We are almost done. What time you got?"

"Two fifty-eight."

"What time your waiters start coming?" he asked Allison.

"Soon," she said. "Four."

"That's a long time. I'm hungry."

"Boss, we should just go," said Gabriel. "You should go. Denny and I will finish up here."

"Not until I get my answer about my uncle Herschel," said H.J. "I'm workin' off a debt here. That man visited me in prison like fifty times. Drove all the way upstate." He pointed at Jay. "Your man Poppy said my uncle had a heart- wait, wait, dag, I'm hungry. You got anything to eat, any decent food?"

"Boss," said Gabriel. "Listen to me!"

"I'm hungry. Can't think without calories. Brain uses the most, you know that? I'm fat but I'm dangerous, yo. America loves the fat black man, thinks he ain't dangerous."

"What?" said Lamont.

"Hey, George Foreman, he's fat and rich, you got Bill Cosby, you got Al Roker, the weatherman, you got Sinbad, you got that fat guy in the beer commercials." He looked at Allison expectantly. "All these black men rich because the white man ain't scared of a fat black man."

"We don't have much down here," said Allison. "We've got some bar food, nuts, pretzels, things like that."

"Fuckin' paste," said H.J. "No good for you."

Denny pointed. "There's a little kitchen behind the bar."

"Does the gentleman like fish?" asked Ha.

Allison stared at him. "I don't know," she said slowly, though the question had not been addressed to her.

"Fish? No shit. You got fish?" said H.J.

Ha looked dryly at Allison. "We have good fish here, very fresh."

H.J. pointed at Ha, head hung meekly. "You said he can cook?"

Allison glanced at Ha. "Yes, his specialty is fish."

"What, swordfish? Tuna steak?"

"What do you have, Ha?" asked Allison, her voice a confection of sincerity.

Ha nodded, as if in thought. "I have the special fish, very good delicacy. Makes sushi."

"You do? In a steakhouse?" asked H.J.

"Very good, yes. We have the fresh fish in the aquarium you see, behind bar, under shelf."

"I need to fill myself up," said H.J. "Fish ain't goin' do that."

Denny went around the bar. "It's here." He bent down for a moment and we couldn't see him. "Goddamned ugly fish!"

"But it's a specialty," said Allison. "Sort of Chinese sushi. Ha was Mao Tse-tung's chef, you know that?"

"I'm hungry, too," admitted Denny.

"The old Chinese guy, the emperor or some shit?"

Ha nodded humbly.

"Gimme that fish you used to make for the Chinese emperor," said H.J. "We'll get some burgers on the road." He pointed his gun at Jay. "Then I'm going to talk to this guy. 'Cause it ain't just about the fuckin' money." He looked back at Ha. "Get started."