Early evening and Shapkaitz was hooting outside. Barry grabbed his hat off the hook above the waiting chair and strode out, shouting back at me, ‘You wait there, don’t move, stay right where you are!’ I shuffled the chair over so I could see out the doorway.
Shapkaitz’s car was idling in the middle of the road, the roof down despite the nip in the air. He wore a red cravat and a cigar hung from his lips. His left arm draped over the passenger seat as if I was already sitting there, his right hand toot tooting away on the horn. I couldn’t be sure if he was aware of the disturbance he was causing to the peace of Sunday evening on 5th Avenue.
The woman across the road poked a head full of curlers through the curtains, one or two foreigners stood in their doorways staring, the fat man from number 35 stopped watering his garden and stood gawking with the hose mid-air, children stopped playing ball. Shapkaitz didn’t seem to care, just kept tooting away and looking annoyed until Barry charged out waving his arms in the air and screaming like a Red Indian. I was so ashamed.
‘Christ Almighty, Shapkaitz,’ he yelled for all the neighbourhood to hear. ‘Who do you think you are? You get out of that car and come fetch the lady from the front door, goddammit!’ The neighbours looked at Barry as if he’d just escaped from prison but Shapkaitz, he was cool as a carrot, took a long puff on his cigar before stomping it out in the ashtray.
‘Yeah, she’s a lady, you’re a gent, and as for me I’m a railway conductor.’ He stood up, straightened his legs, tipped his hat to the ladies. ‘Okey dokey, Fyfkie, let’s go get your lady.’ He opened the broken gate, sauntered past the dead flowers along the little path and stopped at the front door. ‘I’ve come to fetch Miss Schroeder, if that suits you,’ he said to Barry.
‘I’ll just check if she’s ready.’ Barry slammed the door in Shapkaitz’s face even though he knew I was ready and waiting just inside. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then he grinned, leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. ‘You’ll always be my sunshine,’ he said.
Cecil put his arm around me as we walked to the car. Neighbours were still gawping but Barry didn’t seem to notice. I didn’t care, let them stare till the wind changed and their faces got stuck, they were all just jealous. Cecil stopped a short distance from the car and slowly walked around me. ‘Well, baby, you look like a fine bit of something tonight, even finer than last night. Walk ahead, I’m right behind you . . . well, I reckon you’ve got the most wanton walk I ever saw,’ he said, opening the door for me before practically jumping over the bonnet to get to the driver’s side. I took out a cigarette and he lit it with the angry flame of a match and then relit his cigar. Even though the roof was down the smell of cigar and sulphur filled the air.
‘I don’t know what old Fyfkie’s so sore about. I’ll take real good care of you, got it?’ He put his hand on my knee. ‘Cecil,’ I whispered, ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that, it’s not gentlemanly.’ I could feel the neighbours’ eyes boring into us.
He laughed and ran his hand further up the soft creases of linen along my leg and leaned forward to flip open the visor in front of me so I could see my reflection in the mirror. ‘Get a load of that! You can’t expect a man to behave like a gentleman around a face like that. If you want people to behave normal around you, join a convent. I could drive you over to the Catholic nuns at Holy Cross, would you like that? They’ll shave all your beautiful hair off, burn your fancy clothes and put you in some scratchy, calico underwear full of fleas, would you like that? I’m sure even the fucking fathers would have a hard time with you. That’s the problem with girls like you, you drive us men wild, we don’t know what we’re doing when we’re around you, kind of like Rita Hayworth.’
I didn’t know whether to feel bad for him or rather splendid that he called me Rita Hayworth. ‘Do you know, doll face,’ he continued, his fingers spreading out around the sides of my leg and making their way to higher more uncomfortable places, ‘I thought about you all day.’ His eyes were getting that glassy look and his lips were wet the way they’d been the night before. I felt the blues setting in again. His face came down towards mine, scratching me. ‘I’m telling you, baby, I just kept thinking of you because you’re a special girl and you’re going to be mine.’
I pushed him off and noticed his hands were shaking as he turned the key in the ignition. Then there was Barry coming down the garden path. It was as though he couldn’t see me, focused as he was on Cecil, man to man, as if they had some big, exciting secret they wanted to keep from me. ‘Listen here, there’s stuff I can get her to do for you, stuff you never dreamed of,’ Barry winked. ‘She’s got tricks up that sleeve, tricks down that shirt and at the back of that throat, oh brother, stick with me and you’re in for the time of your life.’ He patted Cecil on the shoulder. ‘Listen, this is between you and me, I don’t go handing it all out to every Tom, Dick and Shapkaitz, you got it? Don’t go telling all your mates, hey?’
