“Look at me, Paul.\u00a0 I\u2019m not joking.\u201d\u00a0 Paul clasped his elbows and looked into Remo\u2019s stern countenance.\u00a0 The jowls and eyebrows bound a face of determination.\u00a0 \u201cThis is only short-term.\u00a0 My home has become a target for bricks and angry correspondence.\u00a0 I\u2019ve had to relocate my office to a small suite that\u2019s unlisted.\u00a0 My main worry is for my records.\u00a0 I only need through hurricane season.\u00a0 I\u2019ve provided for after that, but for now I just need a place to sleep and put my safe.\u00a0 Your home is ideally suited.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJeez, I don\u2019t know, Remo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be like a bird perched on your sill.\u00a0 You\u2019ll barely notice me.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been working the longest hours of my life in the office.\u00a0 I just need a headquarters for showers, shits, and shaves.\u00a0 And I\u2019m aware of the troublesome time you\u2019re going through.\u00a0 It could be in your interest to have someone around.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, Liza is just across the street.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPaul, if there\u2019s anything I\u2019ve learned, it\u2019s that the full grief of a man can never be assuaged by a woman.\u00a0 Much less well-bred cooze.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRemo, the straight talker.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got a six-shooter for a mouth, and I won\u2019t keep it holstered.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m worried about.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t be, don\u2019t be. \u00a0Around here I\u2019ll be an absolute nun.\u201d<\/p>\n
Paul rubbed the back of his neck.\u00a0 His mind rushed through a hasty montage of consideration.\u00a0 He had doubts, but that teenage excitement he\u2019d first obtained when Robert had first invited his fraternity brother Remo over for dinner was little diminished by any way-back-when.\u00a0 He\u2019d snuck out with them then, piling into misadventures and sharing in their witticism reveries.\u00a0 Empty pint bottles tossed into bushes and shared sprays of cologne, baseball stats and lost loafers.\u00a0 Whether it was dancing girls or topics of conversation, everything was tossed aside or picked up as Remo the Sensation demanded.\u00a0 His brother saw fit to contain Paul\u2019s exposure to the madness, but even he could be overruled if Remo declared, \u201cthe night necessitates the Kid.\u201d\u00a0 And now Paul\u2019s ego began to build the bridge between then and now, dumping pilings into the still water of all the recent boring, aimless years.\u00a0 He re-heard all the voices of his family and the old peers demanding No, No, No<\/em>, but who were they?\u00a0 Courtiers suddenly without a king, lost in the fog of their own selfishness.\u00a0 By the end of it, Paul knew if he turned a certain way towards Remo with a certain expression that the man would know exactly what to say, and then it wouldn\u2019t really be a decision at all, just the formality of properly pronouncing the word yes<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cDidn\u2019t your pop always say it was easier to stop a man from going down than to help him on his way back up?\u00a0 Look at me, Paul.\u00a0 I\u2019m being honest.\u00a0 Rock bottom is on my radar.\u00a0 There aren\u2019t many others I can go to, and certainly not with your sense of decency.\u201d<\/p>\n Their sweaty palms met in a hard handshake.<\/p>\n \u201cGood, good,\u201d Remo said.\u00a0 \u201cYou won\u2019t regret this.\u00a0 At least not immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul slapped his knee.\u00a0 Remo reached out and grabbed his wrists.\u00a0 \u201cLet\u2019s say the Lord\u2019s prayer as a benediction.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul\u2019s smile took a few moments to sag and slide as he watched Remo\u2019s earnest brow draw together and his thin lips start to assemble the words in a low mutter.\u00a0 Paul recognized the rhythm even without the enunciation, nodded his head in time, and managed to chime in on \u201cForever, Amen.\u201d\u00a0 What it meant, he wasn\u2019t sure, and the ensuing silence didn\u2019t aid in any deduction.<\/p>\n The thermostat clicked, reaching its limit of toleration, and triggered the loud rush of central air.\u00a0 Remo\u2019s eyes snapped open.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s celebrate before we set the particulars in stone, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n Paul scooted his chair forward to a small table inside Ms. Mae\u2019s.\u00a0 The daylight outside seemed to be resisted through the architecture of the building.\u00a0 Remo had set his first rule.\u00a0 \u201cI have to be careful now.\u00a0 We can\u2019t be seen in public at any of the usual places.\u00a0 Too many people feel it\u2019s perfectly acceptable to just come up to me and start their accusations.\u00a0 We\u2019re going to have to stick to the dirty and the dark, my friend.\u00a0 Hideaways and haunts, all with easily accessible back doors.\u201d\u00a0 Even now he seemed a little uneasy being so near Magazine Street, a busy retail thoroughfare that the idle wives of his enemies could be walking down toting dogs and shopping bags.\u00a0 Paul, already feeling queasy after pouring so much booze on top of an inconsequential breakfast, bought two bags of chips from the counter and was already ruthlessly chomping down salty mouthfuls of oily relief.<\/p>\n \u201cThis place had a more tolerable clientele when it was down across from Arabella Station,\u201d Remo said.\u00a0 \u201cThis town would rather take a soiled dollar than ten shiny dimes.\u00a0 But don\u2019t let me get started.\u00a0 Come on, Paul, inform me.\u00a0 How\u2019d the old man go?\u201d<\/p>\n Paul shook his head and drew his eyebrows together.\u00a0 His eyes focused over Remo\u2019s head on a sign bearing the legal rules of billiards.\u00a0 \u201cAh.\u00a0 Pretty easily, I think.\u00a0 He just tumbled.\u00a0 We were talking about Pete Rose.\u00a0 He walked up the incline to the green then\u2014\u201d Paul made a motion with his hands.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve been wondering if maybe it had been one degree cooler or if the humidity was just a couple points down….\u00a0 Pop always relied on his environment, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, he never told a blue joke if he was wearing a tie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSentimental sediment like that finds a way to settle deep in your mind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt resists dredging.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul opened his second bag of chips.\u00a0 \u201cSure, sure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut you can\u2019t let it direct your flow.\u00a0 There\u2019s no use worrying about the heat.\u00a0 He could have been just as easily felled by a dip in the stock market.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI never thought about that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOr one more story in the paper about civil unrest in a country he\u2019d never heard of until the other month. \u00a0An accumulation of modern data in his head that his 20th<\/sup> century mind just couldn\u2019t fasten itself around.\u00a0 These are the odd little stresses that scour our bodies, Paul.\u00a0 They take away too much of us.\u00a0 They make brittle our elasticity.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course, you\u2019re right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut don\u2019t ever think you can single one of them out.\u00a0 They all remain guiltless until compiled.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul wiped his hands on cocktail napkins.\u00a0 \u201cSo what do you do?\u201d<\/p>\n Remo swallowed the bottom half of his pint of amber at one go, then clinked his empty glass against Paul\u2019s where it stood on the table.\u00a0 \u201cCheers.\u00a0 Want another?\u201d<\/p>\n The glasses started to crowd their table.\u00a0 Remo\u2019s hair started to slide apart.\u00a0 He went into the bathroom and returned with it all set back in place.\u00a0 The drinks broke their neat twenties down into tens and scattered fives.\u00a0 By late morning their wallets were thick with wrinkled ones and they were pushing quarters back for tips.\u00a0 Paul burped, his bloodstream fully carbonated.\u00a0 Remo continued to talk, his topics swerving madly from groceries to be kept on hand in the house to reprimands aimed at empty chairs.\u00a0 Paul lost track of who was supposed to be occupying them.\u00a0 Remo\u2019s monologues in the persona of a persecuted gentleman tread deep into Paul\u2019s pillowed mind now that he was in a more emotionally sensitive state.\u00a0 He found himself re-evaluating the old acquaintances being dressed down in absentia<\/em>.\u00a0 But before he could get too far along, Remo started outlining which brands of toilet paper were permissible and those that should be passed over for being incapable of adequately wiping his ass.<\/p>\n By noon Paul was in desperate need of fresh air.<\/p>\n The sunlight outside made him squint.\u00a0 A dozen young men played basketball on a cement court across the street in what looked like a scattered team of seven versus a taller, faster five.\u00a0 Paul tried to figure out which of the spectators lined along the edges were probable drugs dealers.\u00a0 He picked out a couple of faces and memorized them in case he could be of any help to police at a later date.\u00a0 A skinny white boy energetically rooted for one team, possibly waiting to become a substitution.\u00a0 Paul clicked his tongue and hoped the kid didn\u2019t belong to anyone important.<\/p>\n Paul used the payphone around the corner to check his home voice mail for condolences.\u00a0 The only person who\u2019d felt compelled to call with an appropriate message was Mrs. Gilberti, his old piano teacher.\u00a0 There was a wrong number filling tape with, \u201cVladimir<\/em>?\u00a0 Vladimir?\u00a0 Hola, Vladimir?<\/em>\u201d and his supervisor at work left a bland recital of H&R Block\u2019s bereavement policy.\u00a0 The last was his older brother Robert reminding him of his promised errand.<\/p>\n Paul stepped back inside.\u00a0 Remo was tearing a napkin into little white flakes.\u00a0 \u201cIf nobody ever wants to say anything nice to me, why should I make myself so accessible?\u201d<\/p>\n Remo snorted.\u00a0 \u201cNow you\u2019re starting to see things my way.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, could you help me out with a two-man operation?\u00a0 I gotta get Noel\u2019s car out to the airport, and you could save me having to interrupt the housekeeper.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf we\u2019re gonna go, now\u2019s the time to do it.\u00a0 Middle of the day, no one\u2019s on Airline.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re good to drive?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI might have a problem if I had to descend a few flights of stairs right now, but I can keep a car steady.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAttaboy.\u201d<\/p>\n *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n Remo rode shotgun in Paul\u2019s sedan, hanging one arm off the handle above the window and raising the other a foot and a half in front of his face to block the sunlight.\u00a0 His fingers were spread and curled as if prepared to swat away an incoming projectile.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you put down the visor?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t enjoy having my reflection floating up there in the little mirror.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think I\u2019ve got an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove box.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m comfortable, Paul, I really am.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul didn\u2019t quite slow down enough on the approach, and his car popped up when his wheels hit the uneven level between his sister\u2019s cement driveway and the eroded asphalt of the street.\u00a0 Paul left his door open, pulled a tiny card out of his wallet, and pressed the code written on it into the keypad bolted onto the security gate.\u00a0 He watched the wrought iron roll aside on its track then pulled into the drive.\u00a0 Noel\u2019s house was enormous, its list of previous owners as impressive as a show dog\u2019s certificate of pedigree.\u00a0 In the time of airborne plagues the straight-backed manors in the Garden District had been quarantines, homes shielded from the menace by overprotective palms, ivy, and other flowering sentinels.\u00a0 Now the pretty arrangements distracted those touring the streets from the silence and dark windows of empty homes that were remotely owned.\u00a0 Paul knocked on the door of his sister\u2019s house, paid for and maintained by foreign income, occupied only by the odd couple of his niece and the housekeeper, the two of them separated by fifty years and differing lists of expectations called in from the other side of the world.<\/p>\n Rosehannah opened the door.\u00a0 \u201cMr. Paul.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAfternoon, Rosie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou need to come inside, or are you just wanting the car keys?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI need to use the bathroom.\u00a0 Look, could you make us up a few sandwiches?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKendra home?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHasn\u2019t been since \u2018bout this time yesterday.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul frowned.\u00a0 \u201cWell, try to make sure she\u2019s home for when Noel gets here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll put out some milk in a saucer.\u00a0 S\u2019only way I know to gather stray cats.\u201d<\/p>\n After a lengthy piss and an awkward wipe-down of the toilet bowl rim, Paul went back outside with some sandwiches wrapped in paper towels.<\/p>\n Remo pulled his apart.\u00a0 \u201cPeanut butter and molasses?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou gotta take what Rosehannah is willing to give.\u00a0 But I grabbed a few devilled eggs, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m taking the Beamer.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh-ho-ho\u2026I don\u2019t know, Remo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, Paul, it\u2019s been an unfortunate period of time since I\u2019ve been able to drive a fine machine, okay?\u00a0 Let me do this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to your Benz?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA casualty of war.\u00a0 Come on, give me the keys.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSay the alphabet backwards.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cZ-Y-X.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cW\u2026V.\u201d<\/p>\n Remo faltered.\u00a0 Paul chided him through a mouthful of egg yolk.<\/p>\n \u201cF and U, how\u2019s that?\u00a0 Quit clowning around and give me the keys, Paul.\u00a0 Trust me, it\u2019ll do wonders for my disposition.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay.\u00a0 But I\u2019m going to be right behind you.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul and Remo worked the cover off of Noel\u2019s BMW roadster.\u00a0 Remo slid into the leather driver\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n \u201cBlack and shiny as Fred Astaire\u2019s shoes,\u201d Paul said.\u00a0 \u201cTry to keep the bugs off the windshield.\u201d<\/p>\n Remo smiled and pulled the door shut.<\/p>\n Paul started to become concerned when Remo didn\u2019t turn onto Octavia to take the route he would have preferred.\u00a0 He followed him through the indecisive crawl of St. Charles Avenue traffic all the way to its end at Carrollton Avenue.\u00a0 Remo turned right, and Paul pulled alongside so that he could gesture his disapproval, but the BMW slid away from him almost immediately and sprinted into a drive-thru daiquiri stand.\u00a0 Paul didn\u2019t have time to do anything but yell.\u00a0 He spurred his car forward up the road to the next interchange over the neutral ground, had to wait for a pair of streetcars to glide past, then made a U-turn back down the street.\u00a0 Just as he pulled into the lot, the BMW emerged from around the other side of the building, and Paul could see Remo removing the taped-down straw from its wrapper and plunging it into a 20 ounce styrofoam cup.<\/p>\n \u201cGoddammit, Remo!\u201d<\/p>\n His friend shot back out in front of the oncoming cars and headed north again on Carrollton.\u00a0 Paul gave a frustrated karate chop to his indicator, waited cautiously for the traffic to clear, then listened to his car wind up to fourth gear as he tried to catch up.\u00a0 At the intersection of the Earhart Boulevard, Remo slowly inched his way through a left turn, sticking the nose of the Beamer out and cutting those with the right of way short.\u00a0 He caught a barrage of horns across his stern that goaded him into full acceleration.\u00a0 Paul caught the red light as he pulled up to the same intersection.\u00a0 He craned his neck to watch his sister\u2019s car weave erratically around potholes and pedestrians.\u00a0 Remo was already gunning for top speed on the approach to the expressway, and once he reached the smooth pavement and widened lanes, he began to pull away at eighty.<\/p>\n Paul\u2019s sedan whined.\u00a0 He played a tense game with himself trying to keep the BMW in sight and remain at an inconspicuous speed.\u00a0 Once Remo got at least a mile ahead, Paul gave up and pressed the pedal to the floor.\u00a0 He checked his rear-view mirror every other second, felt the steering wheel go slippery from his sweaty palms.\u00a0 He felt very uncomfortable with a few of his recent decisions now.\u00a0 As he reached the horizon at the top of every overpass his gut clenched against the expectation of seeing his sister\u2019s car scattered in smoking wreckage across the road with Remo\u2019s bloody body at the epicenter.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “Look at me, Paul.\u00a0 I\u2019m not joking.\u201d\u00a0 Paul clasped his elbows and looked into Remo\u2019s stern countenance.\u00a0 The jowls and eyebrows bound a face of determination.\u00a0 \u201cThis is only short-term.\u00a0 My home has become a target for bricks and angry …<\/p>\n