J. Donleavy - Schultz

“Jesus.”

Schultz wiping his lips with one of his Lordship’s coronet embroidered napkins and staring at Binky. The rain now splattering the windows. In the greying afternoon, lights across the street flashing on.

“Holy shit Binky, sue for christ’s sake, sue.”

“Ah Schultz thank god you agree I was aggrieved. Yes indeed I thought of that. A battery of Q.C.’s righteously mouthing their way up into the House of Lords. But instead, clutching my coins I went lonely back up my steps. In through my hall and into the pitch blackness of my music room. I put my fingers down on the ivory keys of my little piano. In diminuendo I played Land of Hope and Glory. And I wept.”

Schultz rising from the chaise longue tucking the long end of his black knit tie into his belt. Then looking down and feeling to see if his flies were firmly shut. He headed out through the half open door. Banging straight into Rebecca standing in the hall, tears coursing down her face.

“Holy shit, kid, what’s the matter.”

Rebecca rushing off down the passageway. Closing the door as she disappeared into his Lordship’s private office. Schultz following, stepping slowly in. Rebecca across the room by the window. In her grey sweater and skirt. Her head turned away and her shoulder pressing against the wall. Her long slender fingers up against her cheek. As she heaved in sobs.

“Hey please, please, tell me what’s the matter Rebecca.”

“I love him. I love him so.”

“Who, honey. Who.”

Binky

Binky

Lights blazing outside the theatre. Pedestrians lining the pavement. Cars bumper to bumper jamming the street. Police on foot and horseback. Flash bulbs popping. London’s glittering people pouring out of taxis and limousines in one orgasm of celebrity after another. Two fanatic fans holding up a sign.

MAGILLACURDY

FOR

PRIME MINISTER

Big Al in a black velvet dinner jacket. Pricilla and her mother both in blazing red. Arriving out of Al’s limo, their faces beaming at the cameras and waltzing like royalty into the thronged lobby. With a sprinkling of first nighters from Hornchurch, Bromley, and Golders Green. Voices babbling. Matches striking, cigarettes lighting. Eyes flickering here. Eyes flickering there. Eyes flickering everywhere.

Schultz that late rainy afternoon, comforting Rebecca in his Lordship’s office. Then taking her to a snug Chinese restaurant up a narrow little Soho alley. Where this saddened creature poured out her heart over the sweet and sour pork.

“Jesus kid no man is worth your marvellous kind of love. Plenty of guys are dying to adore a wonderful girl like you, marry and settle down and have kids. But if you have to love somebody, love some guy who needs it. Like me for instance. See, you laugh. So now you’re going to start feeling all better.”

Schultz, at ten minutes till curtain time, coming down the lobby stairs from his private balcony box, where the previous half hour he sat subdued screened away in darkness. Without answering the deputy stagemanager’s knocks concerning a screaming tooth and nail female fight in a chorus dressing room. As other words of Binky’s echoed around between his ears.

“My dear little one Schultz, spent the entire second night of our honeymoon weeping and sobbing in my arms, saying among other things, that she had trapped me by her being with child and that any time I wanted I could abandon her. Cast her out cold and naked on the moors. Alas owned by her father fifteen miles in each direction. But I mean of course, we were overwrought, the nearby waterfall thundering in our ears with a recent heavy rainfall. By dawn I simply loved her. Loved her truly. My dear sweet cherished poppet, my petkins.”

Schultz tearing himself out of his solitary reverie. Went towards the lobby. Stood on the staircase, his hand on the gleaming brass rail. Looking back into the grey sad eyes of Rebecca. And her beautiful hands manipulating her chopsticks. Putting her fingers touching mine, when she said thanks for comforting me. We went back out on the London streets under the encouraging clearing skies. Our lonely taken Chinese meal in both our bellies. Her honesty, her shyness, her warmth. Now the perfumes of these fucking people. Who look like they don’t have a care in the world. Except bored curiosity to see if this is a smash hit or a dismal flop and whether tomorrow I should be smiled at or shown an ice cold shoulder. Fuck you, you cunts all of you, I’ll show you. Jesus, even some tiaras, and more than half of the audience are in evening dress. While I’m in physical and mental incarceration. Give a little bit of yourself to a woman, and they keep wanting more. Till they got all of you. Till they think you’re some fucking ornament they wear in their lives. Thank god a production shuts out the entire rest of the world. But tonight it lets them all back in again. Everybody, Jesus everybody down there in that lobby thinks they’re such hot shit. Not a trace of humility anywhere. Except that girl in a nice sombre black suit. No staggering beauty but what a serene nice face. Holy fuck, could that be Al’s new girl friend. Jesus, I know her from somewhere, that soft nice lovely brown hair. O god what new complication is this in my life. In the kind of recent erotic escapes I’m having, I could have maybe even fucked her in a blind hurry without even knowing it. On top of all the other crazy things that are happening to me recently in the dark. Still taste that god damn athlete’s foot paste, it’s going to be in my mouth for the rest of my life.

Schultz sneaking along the wall across the jammed lobby. Stopping behind a pillar to drink in this delicious sight of people lined up at the box office and snaking all the way out into the street. If only business would be like this every night. The phones jangling. Wallets opening and peeling out the cash. My god, Lady Lullabyebaby. Over there. On her aristocratic treetop. With that big gawking guy who may be her husband. The marvellous imperious way she sweeps her head. And sticks that cigarette holder in her mouth. Not giving a fuck about anyone in sight. Blinding everybody with a necklace of diamonds and emeralds. What a doll. And Agnes. Wow look at her. She must think this is a bathing beauty contest. Tits popping out of the top of her dress. Some kind of chinless hawknosed stockbroker she’s got in tow flashing his teeth and eyes in all directions especially at Agnes’s gorgeous creamy cleavage. And shit and shinola, the fucking Ambassador turning up out of the woodwork. Stealing the show with that wild looking towering ebony absolutely bald beautiful creature he must have flown in fresh out of the steaming jungle and twice as black and tall as he is. God, his Lordship right next to them. Killing himself as usual to be inconspicuous while everyone is breaking their necks turning to look at him and the radiantly beautiful Countess. Christ I’m shaking. Jesus I’ve missed the real emotional boat in life. Why can’t I have someone unbiased out of the blue love and adore me like Rebecca loves and worships Binky.

“Why won’t you sit with us.”

“Because I can’t honey. I got to be ready to jump backstage for any catastrophe.”

Pricilla stalking off. Schultz repairing alone back to his box. The buzzer going. Take your seats please my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen. Safety curtain lifting. Lights going down. Strike up the band. Whoopsie doodle. This is it. Curtain up. The moment of Chinese torture. Come on now, you fucking overpaid clackers, clap clap. For the sets. Jesus at least we got over that one. Christ the fucking chorus is off key. And now latecomers. The smug cunts. For months you string your guts out and these fuckers come barging in right at a magic fucking time looking for their god damn seats. Christ Magillacurdy is shaking his fist at them. Jesus Magillacurdy don’t overdo it. Just let’s get through this number. Sometimes I ask myself are actors the lowest form of life on this earth with only actresses lower.