Эд Макбейн - Love, Dad

“You grew up nice,” he said, and grinned. “What do I sound?”

“Boston.”

“I do? Shit,” he said.

“Like the Kennedys sound.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good, I guess. I don’t know,” she said, and shrugged. “You said you’d tell me...”

“Okay. First of all, the shirts don’t fit right.”

“What do you mean? I’m wearing one of them right now. It fits fine.”

“You’re very slender, Melissa.”

“Call me Lissie, will you?”

“Why? What’s wrong with Melissa?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just happen to prefer Lissie.”

“What are you sore about, all of a sudden?”

“I’m not sore. Well, yes, I am a little annoyed. You don’t know a thing about the kind of shirts I’ve got, and you’re telling me they don’t fit right.”

“Most of them don’t, okay? Especially on the men. The shoulders are too narrow. We’ve got husky brutes here in America,” he said, and raised both arms in a weight-lifter’s pose and flexed his muscles and grinned again. “And the madras stuff needs special care which nobody today is interested in; they want to throw it in the washer and dryer and if you do that you ruin madras. And the little pipes for holding roaches, and the bigger ones for smoking opium or whatever turns you on, we can get cheaper here in the States, made in Korea, so who wants to spend additional loot for fancy Indian ones? The silver jewelry is cheaper and better from Mexico, and the turquoise...”

“I happen to have fabulous turquoise.”

“Ah, you’re a turquoise expert?”

“No, but I’ve seen the stuff they’re selling here in Cambridge, and I know mine...”

“What makes you think hippies care about quality?”

“What?”

“Good turquoise is expensive, Lissie, I’m sure you know that. The best stones...”

“I’ve got some very good stones, and they didn’t cost a fortune.”

“Unpolished stones?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve got to be a good judge to appreciate an unpolished stone.”

“My partner’s had experience.”

“Where’s your partner?”

“In Bombay.”

“How’d you and her like to buy a store?” Matthew said, and grinned again.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going out of business next week.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Would I kid a beautiful girl like you? Don’t look so glum, here’s the coffee.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“You’re thinking ‘Where am I going to sell my stuff,’ right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll sell it, don’t worry.”

“Sure. The way you’re selling it.”

“Maybe my location isn’t a good one,” he said, and shrugged. “I don’t know, I just don’t know what’s happening. Everybody today is into the Sergeant Pepper shit. Costumes, you know? Civil war uniforms and opera capes, like that. Took awhile to catch on, but here it is, folks. The Beatles could’ve ruled the world if they wanted to. Instead, they went out of business... the way I’m going out of business next week.”

“Wait’ll I tell Marjorie about this.”

“Who’s Marjorie?”

“My partner in Bombay.”

“It’s not the end of the world. Would you like to go to a movie or something?”

“What? Oh. No. No, thanks. I’ve got to... I guess I’ve got to... I don’t know. I’ll just keep lugging that bag around, I guess, until I sell what’s in it. This is some letdown, I’ve got to tell you. I thought we’d make a fortune, I mean it.”

“Easy come, easy go,” Matthew said. “What’s your number, can I call you sometime?”

“Well...”

“Will you be here in Boston for a while?”

“What I planned to do was sell the stuff and head right home.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I’m crashing with a friend of mine. A junior at Brenner.”

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

“Want to go to a movie with me sometime?”

“Maybe.”

“Light on the feet,” he said, and again brought up his hands and did his flamenco-dancer finger-snaps.

“Her name’s in the book,” Lissie said. “Brooke Hastings.”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll give you a call.”

“What are you going to do now?” she asked. “I mean, if you go out of business.”

“When I go, not if I go. Maybe go back to dental school.”

“Dental school?”

“Yeah, I dropped out to start the business. Have you ever seen a fat dentist? I’ve never seen a fat dentist in my life. I figured nobody would go to a fat dentist, so I dropped out and opened the business. My draft number also had something to do with it — three-twenty-seven out of a possible three-sixty-five, not bad, huh? So I dropped out. Fuck my father.” He leaned conspiratorially across the table and whispered, “My father’s a dentist.”

“So now you’ll go back to school.”

“Sure. Maybe. I figure if I can’t become a multimillionaire merchant , I might as well become a multimillionaire dentist. Matthew Hobbs, D.D.S. Dr. Matthew Hobbs. It doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

“If it’s what you want,” Lissie said.

“Who knows what I want? Does anyone know what he wants anymore?” he said, and shook his head. “Would you like another cappuccino?”

“No, thanks.”

“I don’t know anybody who knows what he really wants,” Matthew said. “My father knew he wanted to be a dentist from the minute he saw an oil-drilling rig outside Tucson, Arizona. Do I want to be a dentist? Who the hell knows? Do I want an air-conditioned Cadillac like my father’s got? Probably. Do I want a two-hundred-thousand-dollar house in Lexington, swimming pool in the backyard, membership at the golf and tennis club? Again, probably. But it’d be so nice to have all those things without having to become what those things force you to become. Am I making any sense? Do you know what you want?”

“I thought I’d make a little money, you know, and then go back to school in the fall.”

“Okay.”

“But now I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go back to school?”

“Oh, sure. Well, I guess so. I mean... what else is there to do? I guess I could go back to India. But... I don’t know,” she said, and shrugged.

Sparky was waiting on the sidewalk when they got back to the shop. “Thought you’d never get here,” he said, and grinned. “I’m about to freeze my ass off.”

They tried to ignore him as Matthew unlocked the door, but the moment the shop was open, he stepped inside and began studying the various pieces of jewelry in the display case.

“Can I help you?” Matthew asked.

“Just lookin’,” Sparky said.

Lissie picked up her suitcase.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said.

“Stick around awhile,” Matthew said.

“No, if I’m going to sell this stuff, I’d better get...”

“Whut you sellin, honey?” Sparky said at once, and turned from the counter.

“You’re beginning to annoy me, you know?” Lissie said.

“Annoy you? I hear you’re sellin’, so I may be buyin’, so how is that annoyin’?”

“I’m not what you think. I didn’t just get off the bus, so fuck off, will you?”

“Nice talk on the lady,” Sparky said. “Who said you’re off any bus?”

“You’re a pimp, am I right?” Lissie said.

“Whut? Me?” He clenched both fists over his chest. “ Me? a pimp? Do I look like a pimp?” he asked Matthew.