smiled, the
wrinkles etched into her face softened and smoothed,
some of the years of hard living fell away like happy
tears. "You take care, you hear."
"You too," I said. "See you the first of next week."
As I climbed into my El Camino, a carload of
construction workers in dirty overalls and bright yellow
hardhats skidded into a rolling stop beside me, the
31
transmission clanking loudly as the driver jammed it
into park. The men scrambled out, laughing and
shouting at Rosie, goosing each other in the butts,
happy in the wild freedom of quitting-time beers, and
they charged into Rosie's open arms like a flock of baby
chicks.
I knew the men were probably terrible people who
whistled at pretty girls, treated their wives like servants, and voted for Nixon every chance they got, but as far as I was concerned, they beat the hell out of a
Volvo-load of liberals for hard work and good times.
32
3 ••••
WHEN I ARRNED AT HIS HOSPITAL ROOM, TRAHEARNE HAD
been sedated into a deep rumbling sleep from which it
would have been a crime to awaken him. I found the
emergency-room doctor who had treated him, and the
doctor suggested that Trahearne would Jive in spite of
himself. He wasn't as sure about Oney and Lester,
though. Mter their wounds had been cleaned and
bandaged, they had split, heading back to Rosie's for
another · beer or two. As the doctor walked up the
hallway, shaking his head, I finally used my dime to caU
the former Mrs. Trahearne collect. As usual, she
sounded distantly reluctant to accept the charges.
"Well," I said more brightly than I meant to-1
blamed it on the whiskey-"! finally ran the old devil to
the ground."
"Finally," she said coldly. "In San Francisco?"
"No, ma'am," I said. "In a great little beer joint
outside of Sonoma."
"Isn't that quaint," she murmured. "In what condition did you find him?"
"Drunk," I said, not specifying which of us.
"I assumed that, Mr. Sughrue," she said sharply.
"What is his physical condition?"
"Right."
33
"Yes?"
"Yes, ma'am," I stalled. "He's fine, he's all right, he
should be out of the hospital in three or four days, and
he'll be as good as new."
"It may seem presumptuous of me to ask," she said
smoothly, "but if he is in such wonderful shape, why
then is he in the hospital?"
"It's a long story," I said.
"Isn't it always?" she said.
"Yes, ma'am ."
"You're being unnecessarily obtruse, Mr. Sughrue,"
she said. Her voice sounded pleasant and refined, but
accustomed to command.
"Yes, ma'am."
"So?"
"Well, he had a little accident."
"Yes?"
"He fell off a barstool and strained his back," I said
quickly.
"How absolutely delightful," she said. "Perhaps that
will teach him a much-needed lesson." Then she
laughed, deep and elegant, like the rich susurruses of a
mink coat being casually dragged down a marble
staircase. "But nothing too serious, I hope."
"A minor sprain," I said.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "I expect you to
remain by his side until he is released from the hospital,
and then stay with him during his postmortality binge."
- "Ma'am?"
"Violated flesh will insist upon wallowing in flesh,"
she said. "Particularly in Traheame's case."
"Ma'am?"
"He will insist on a drunken debauch as soon as he is
released from the hospital," she said. "You knowwine, women, and song-expensive whiskey, high-class hookers, and finally the same old sad song of regret. I
expect you to take care of him during those few days."
34
"I'll do my best," I said.
"I'm sure you will," she said. "And when he is ready
to return home to lick his wounds, I expect you to see
that he does so."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, hoping Trahearne was supposed to lick his wound only figuratively.
"Perhaps if you inform him that his beloved Melinda
is once again in the fold, throwing pots or whatever it is
she does all through the night, then he may want to cut
his debauch short."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, though I didn't have any idea
who or