Smog - Baggage of Enternal Night (14 page)

“I can make time whenever you like,” I replied.

“I mean, what time can you commit to? Punctuality
isn’t one of your finer points, and I don’t want to serve dinner cold.”

Another barb? I already wished I had said I was
too busy to meet. “How about at five? That’s two hours from now. I’ll start
getting ready and maybe even arrive early to show what a changed guy I can be.”

“Just on-time is good enough. I can’t wait to see
you,” she said.

“You too. I’m really looking forward to it.”

A knock sounded at the front door.

“Someone’s at the door,” I said. “Gotta go, but
I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, five o’clock. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I hung up the phone, first feeling grateful for
the interruption, then feeling guilty for feeling grateful. I went to the door.

It was Ray, baring a big smile and a clipboard.

“Hey, Charlie, how’s it going?”

“Just living life. What brings you by?”

“We had a hot date, remember? Three o’clock, I’m
here to peruse the knickknacks you’ve been hoarding.”

Nuts.
I knew I was destined to be
late to Gail’s. Again.

“Actually, slipped my mind,” I said. “I’m not
really prepared—”

“Sounds like you need a secretary.” He pushed his
way inside and whistled. “And a housekeeper.”

I had to imagine what my apartment looked like to
someone for the first time. Although I knew Ray expected it—the only difference
between us being that he owned stores to place his winnings into instead of
piling them in his living room—I still felt the scarlet blushes of shame. The
walls of luggage I collected looked like the hedges at City Park, cut into an
elaborate maze where one could wander lost all day. I don’t know how I let it
build up so much; it was overwhelming to think of the day I’d ever have to
clear it all out.

Inspiration struck. I said, “I’ll cut you a deal
if you take away everything all at once.”

Ray just rolled his eyes. “Funny. Most of this you
couldn’t give to the homeless.”

“So you came all the way over here to insult me?”

He snapped his fingers and slapped my back. “Don’t
get so tense. I know there’s valuables in here I can pay cash for.”

“All right. You want to start over there?” I said.
I led him to a half-wall separating my dining area from the kitchenette. I had
created impromptu shelving out of luggage stacked in different directions and,
in the spaces created, stored a deluge of kitschy sculptures, glassware, and
tin devices whose purposes were meaningless to me. “I’ve got some curiosities
that came from an Egyptian bagman.”

“Egyptian is always a good start.”

After half an hour, Ray had ferreted through only
a corner of my collections. I started getting antsy, watching the time. I
originally thought he might only take a cursory glance, buy a few things, and
be off, but he buried himself inside mountains of suitcases that I hadn’t
looked at in years. He reminded me of an archaeologist, carving through the
substrate with a hand spoon, carefully logging every detail in a grid of
sectioned quadrants. I wanted to tell him to speed it up, but he was so
thorough, setting aside things I forgot—or maybe never knew—I possessed,
including jade teacups from China, Mediterranean lithographs, a Royal Air Force
jacket, and Art Deco-era dining utensils made of colored glass. Money signs
danced before my eyes.

“I gotta make a call,” I said.

“It’s your place.”

I dialed Gail, hoping she hadn’t gotten too
started on dinner, and fumbled through my mind a number of excuses as to why I
would be late. The phone just rang. I let it jangle twenty times, then hung up
and called again. Still no answer. I cursed three shades of blue. Tonight
wouldn’t go well if she had a big talk planned and I blew it off.

I considered Ray a good friend, but not good
enough to leave in my home unattended where he could “find” something and take
it away without telling me—I simply would never know if anything went missing.
But his bright excitement caught me; every few minutes he was muttering
wow
under his breath and setting things aside, and I knew I was earning money just
watching him.

On the other hand, no amount of money was worth
the guilt of skipping on Gail’s dinner.

“Ray,” I said. “I hate to interrupt you, but I’m
going to have to ask you to wrap it up.”

“You kicking me out already, Charlie? I thought we
were doing business.”

“We are, but we’ll have to pick up another time.
I’m sorry. It’s my fault I overbooked today.”

“I came all the way across the city for this.”

“Don’t chafe. I think you could spend all week in
here and still not be done.”

“If you let me.” His eyes twinkled. “You’ve got
some notable effects stashed in your belongings.”

The phone rang, and I prayed it was Gail checking
on me, knowing I was running late. Maybe I could salvage this afternoon after
all.

“Hold that thought,” I told Ray. Into the phone, I
answered, “Hello?”

“Charlie, I’ve got an offer for you.”

It was Vic. Normally I’d be happy to hear from
him, but now wasn’t a good time. Then again, anytime was good to hear an offer.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“My friend, Yefim László—the one who listened to
your records—wants to buy them.”

“I thought he never wanted to see or hear them
again.”

“That’s what he told me, but I guess people are
allowed to change their minds. He’s here now, and he wants them.”

“They’re not my records to sell—they’re my friend,
Joey’s. He lives downstairs, and I’ll have to arrange a meeting between them
for another time.”

“Yefim is hot to buy right now.”

“It’ll have to wait. I’m in the middle of a couple
other deals.”

Vic’s voice lowered, as if he were whispering.
“Charlie, I’ve never seen my friend like this. I tried talking him out of it,
but he’s prepared to spend a great deal of money to procure those records
immediately. He says time is of the essence. Maybe he learned something we
don’t know, but your friend could be in for a windfall.”

My nerves burned. I was about to tell Vic there
wasn’t a chance in Hades I would set up a meeting right now with Joey as sick
as he was and me running so late. But then I thought,
this was an out
.
Those records were no good—I knew that in a way that didn’t make logical sense—and
maybe this was a way to get rid of them. Whoever’s hands they ended up in would
be away from Les Deux Oies. Somebody else could figure out those hellish chants
and dreams of a crazy man.

I hoped Gail would understand…she’d have to.

I spoke into the phone. “I can’t guarantee Yefim
an audience with my friend, as he’s been real sick lately. But he can come over
and I’ll bring him down for an introduction.”

I heard Vic relay my response to Yefim and then
his excited reply.

“I’m in the Les Deux Oies building,” I said. “On
Sanford Street. Sixth floor, apartment number six-twelve.”

“Yefim gives his thanks and is on his way.”

“All right. Thanks, Vic.”

“And, Charlie,” he said. “Don’t fleece him too
badly. I’ve never seen Yefim like this, so…desperate.”

We hung up, and I saw Ray standing nearby, acting
inconspicuous, but obviously listening to the whole conversation.

“What was that all about?” he asked innocently.

“People are going to think we’re holding a
convention in here. Another collector’s coming over.”

“And this after you tell me I have to leave?”

“I’m bringing him down to Joey’s place. He wants
to buy some records Joey won last week.”

“What kind of records?”

“The kind you don’t want,” I said.

Ray snapped his fingers once, loud. His face tightened
into a scowl. “Charlie, I hope you’re not holding out on me. Who buys your wins
when nobody else does? I throw myself at you, offering you dough. And here you
are giving the inside scoop to another dealer? I think I should get the right
to bid, too.”

“Ray,” I said and paused, not knowing how to
explain myself without sounding four cents shy of a nickel. “The records are no
good, trust me. They’re in another language, and they hurt your ears, they
sound so bad.”

“Yet someone wants to buy them this very moment.”

“I don’t know what this guy wants them for, but
it’s a bad investment.”

“Maybe I can judge for myself.”

My exasperation was growing out of control. I felt
people were walking all over me with what they wanted, and I couldn’t put my
foot down hard enough to control them. “Fine, but I’m telling you it’s a waste
of your time.”

Ray nodded slightly. “We’ll see,” he said, and
went back to rifling through the suitcases.

I tried calling Gail again, but she still didn’t
answer. I wondered if it was on purpose—she knew that if she picked up, I’d
snake my way into canceling, but if I couldn’t get a hold of her, the guilt
would drive me to rush over there one way or the other. Which was true. I heard
that rich socialites were beginning to use “answering machines,” like robotic
secretaries, and that someday it would be commonplace for every phone to
automatically have the ability to record a message. Did I wish we used that
technology today…

I didn’t have time remaining to shower and shave
like I wanted, but I got cleaned up as best I could in the reduced amount of
time. I planned to drop off Yefim and Ray at Joey’s and go from there straight
to Gail’s. I towel-washed my face in the sink, trying not to look too hard at
the features of my weathered mug. Gail said the wrinkles around my mouth and
the crow’s feet at my eyes gave me “movie star character,” but I thought they
just made me look prematurely old. Not that I cared much about my appearance. I
had never been a lady’s man in the looks department and, as I aged, I knew it
mattered less and less.

I wound my way through stacks of baggage until I
reached the closet. I pushed aside uniforms, costumes, and vintage finery until
I reached my own clothes, and selected a charcoal gray suit with olive
pinstripes. I heard a tumbling thud from the living room, followed by a
clattering like loose coins rolling across a tile floor.

“I’m all right,” Ray called from the living room.
“Some of your cases took a tumble.”

I didn’t reply. Just dug around until I found some
clean dress socks and shoes that weren’t dull enough to need a shine. Picked
out a silk tie that was soft as clouds. It was one of six dozen found inside a
lacquered salesman’s trunk I won at an auction last year. That had been a good
bid; I’d never have to buy a tie again for the rest of my life.

I knotted it, and someone pounded at the front
door. Pushing my way past luggage towers, I returned to the living room, where
Ray scoffed. I answered the door, prepared to feel the embarrassment of someone
else seeing my place for the first time. The man who answered was old and wiry
with the biggest shock of white hair I’d ever seen, overlaying his head like an
enormous cotton ball. He was pale, and shook slightly, and barely looked
around.

“Mr. Charlie Stewart?” he asked.

“That’s me. You must be Yefim.”

“Yes. I’m very excited to hear those records
again.”

“Come in,” I said. I motioned at Ray. “That’s Ray.
Ray, Yefim.”

Ray was suddenly all smiles. He snapped his
fingers and plunged his hand into Yefim’s. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

Yefim returned the handshake but barely
acknowledged him.

“You listened to the music, yes?” Yefim asked me.

I nodded. “I heard it.”

“Has
he
come to you? The man with the
beard?”

My chest tightened, as if a vice wrapped around my
ribs and pressed in.

“Who’s that?” Ray asked. “Another dealer?”

I flashed him the ‘not now’ look.

“Yes, I think I’ve glimpsed a bearded man. What
does it mean?” I asked.

“Hasn’t he told you?” Yefim answered. “Or are you
not listening to him?”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

“It means there’s room for all of us.”

My chest tightened more, if that were possible. I
thought of the dreams of people grouped around a campfire in the snow. “You’ve
got it worse than Joey.”

“He can save you also, if you let him.”

“Who are you talking about?” My voice rose. “Who
is the man with the beard?”

“It is Rasputin. But I think you knew that
already. He’s returned as prophesized.”

The vice, tighter. There was barely room in my
chest to inhale.

“The world is ending soon, Mr. Stewart. Rasputin
is here to save us, if you accept him.”

“Wow,” Ray said and snapped his fingers.
“Rasputin?”