So, there I was depressed again. I drove back to my place, got in and opened a bottle of scotch. I was back with my old friend, scotch and water. Scotch is a drink you don’t take to right off. But after you work with it a while it kind of works its magic on you. I find a special touch of warmth to it that whiskey doesn’t have. Anyhow, I had the glooms and I sat in a chair with the 5th at my side. I didn’t turn on the tv, I found that when you felt bad that son-of-a-bitch only made you feel worse. Just one vapid face after another, it was endless. An endless procession of idiots, some of them famous. The comedians weren’t funny and the drama was 4th grade. There wasn’t much to turn to for me, except the scotch.
The light rain had become a hard rain and I sat there listening to it belt against the roof.
I should never have let those fuckers slip away. And I knew I’d never find my original informant again. I was back at the beginning. The Red Sparrow had vanished from my stupid grasp. Here I was 55 years old and still fumbling in the dark. How long could I stay in the game? Did the inept deserve anything but a kick in the ass? My old man had told me, “Get into anything where they hand you the money first and then hope to get it back. That’s banking and insurance. Take the real thing and give them a piece of paper for it. Use their money, it will keep coming. Two things drive them: greed and fear. One thing drives you: opportunity.” Seemed like good advice. Only my father died broke.
I poured a new scotch.
Hell, I’d even failed with women. Three wives. Nothing really wrong each time. It all got destroyed by petty bickering. Railing about nothing. Getting pissed-off over anything and everything. Day by day, year by year, grinding. Instead of helping each other you just sliced away, picked at this or that. Goading. Endless goading. It became a cheap contest. And once you got into it, it became habitual. You couldn’t seem to get out. You almost didn’t want to get out. And then you did get out. All the way.
So, now, here I was. Sitting listening to the rain. If I died right now there wouldn’t be one tear dropped anywhere in the world. Not that I wanted that. But it was odd. How alone could a sucker get? But there was a world full of old farts like me. Sitting listening to the rain, wondering where it all went. That’s when you knew you were old, when you sat wondering where it went.
Well, it doesn’t go anywhere, it’s not supposed to. I was three quarters dead. I flicked on the tv. There was a commercial. LONELY? DEPRESSED? CHEER UP. PHONE ONE OF OUR BEAUTIFUL LADIES. THEY DESIRE TO SPEAK TO YOU. CHARGE IT TO YOUR MASTER OR VISA CARD. SPEAK TO KITTY OR FRANCI OR BIANCA. PHONE 800-435-8745.
They showed the girls. Kitty looked best. I took a hit of scotch and dialed the number.
“Yeah?” It was a man’s voice. Sounded mean.
“Kitty, please.”
“You 21 or over?”
“Over,” I said.
“Master or Visa?”
“Visa.”
“Gimme your number and expiration date. Also, address, phone number, social security and your driver’s license number.”
“Hey, how do I know you won’t use this information for your own good? I mean, like screwing me around? Using this info for your own gain?”
“Hey, buddy, you want to talk to Kitty?”
“I guess so…”
“We advertise on tv. We been in business for 2 years.”
“All right, let me dig this stuff out of my wallet.”
“Buddy, if you don’t want us, we don’t want you.”
“What’s Kitty going to talk to me about?”
“You’ll like it.”
“How do you know I’ll like it?”
“Hey, buddy…”
“All right, all right, wait a minute…”
I gave him the info. There was quite a pause while they cleared my credit. Then I heard a voice.
“Hi, baby, this is Kitty!”
“Hello, Kitty, my name is Nick.”
“Oooh, your voice is so sexy! I’m getting a little excited!”
“Nah, my voice isn’t sexy.”
“Oh, you’re just being modest!”
“No, Kitty, I’m not modest…”
“You know, I feel very close to you! I feel like I’m curled up in your lap, I’m looking up at you with my eyes. I have large blue eyes. You’re leaning close, like you’re about to kiss me!”
“That’s crap, Kitty, I’m sitting here alone sucking on a scotch and listening to the rain.”
“Listen, Nick, you have to use your imagination just a little. Let go and you’ll be surprised what we can do together. Don’t you like my voice? Don’t you find it a little…ah, sexy?”
“Yeah, a little but not too much. You sound like you got a cold. You got a cold?”
“Nick, Nick, my dear boy, I’m too hot to have a cold!”
“What?”
“I said, I’m too hot to have a cold!”
“Well, you sound like you’ve got a cold. Maybe you smoke too many cigarettes.”
“I only smoke one thing, Nick!”
“What’s that, Kitty?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“Nah…”
“Look down at yourself, Nick.”
“O.k.”
“What do you see?”
“Drink. Telephone…”
“What else, Nicky?”
“My shoes…”
“Nick, what’s that big thing sticking out there as you talk to me?”
“Oh, that! That’s my gut!”
“Keep talking to me, Nick. Keep listening to my voice, think of me there in your lap, my dress slipped up a bit, my knees and thighs showing. I have long blond hair. It showers down over me. Think of all that, Nick, think of it…”
“All right…”
“O.k., now what do you see?”
“Same things: telephone, my shoes, my drink, my gut…”
“Nick, you’re bad! I’ve got a good mind to come over there and spank you! Or maybe I’ll let you spank me!”
“What?”
“Spanky, spanky, Nick!”
“Kitty…”
“Yes?”
“Will you pardon me for a minute? I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh Nick, I know what you’re going to do! But you don’t have to go to the bathroom to do it, you can do it right over the phone while you’re talking to me!”
“No, I can’t, Kitty. I gotta take a piss.”
“Nick,” she said, “you can consider our conversation over!”
She hung up.
I went to the bathroom and urinated. As I did, I could still hear the rain going. Well, it had been a lousy conversation but at least it had taken my mind off of the Red Sparrow and other matters. I flushed, washed my hands, stared into the mirror, winked at myself and walked back out to the scotch.