Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

over here, Walter. Got somebody you should meet. Come on.«
    No use fighting it. Hacking my way through the underbrush of coolies I waded across the room. Trish sloughed off her more useless admirers as I hit my mark. She struck attitudes with a lush little chickadee holding up the bar. Her pal was a five-footer tagged out in a shiny gold print mini; she’d swept up her blonde curlies in a bubblehead do. Standing next to Trish made her look like she was standing in a hole.
    »Every time I’m raring to carouse I catch a glimpse of your pickle puss,« Trish said, slapping me in the chest. »Stop sucking on those lemons. Here. Walter, Vivian. Vivian, Walter.« She prodded her silent sidekick with an elbow. »He’s prime suspect number one in my book.«
    »Charmed,« I said, broadcasting over the din. »One of the Vivian girls?«
    She cocked a hand to her ear and aimed her noggin sideways at me, crooking her neck and looking like a parrot zeroing in on a cracker. She wore the kind of perfume that smelled like she bought it at Woolworth’s even though you knew she hadn’t.
    »What?« she squeaked. Didn’t sound like her voice had changed yet.
    » Enchanté,« I said. »Ma cherie.«
    She threw me a flutter or two of the black rakes above her peepers. »Oh, wow,« she said. »You’re French?«
    Gritting my teeth I hauled myself towards the summit, looking forward to sliding down on the far side. »Washington state,« I said. »Where’d you get your diapers changed?«
    Poor missy looked like she’d been hit over the head with a duck. »Excuse me?«
    »Excused,« I said. »Where were you before you hit New York?«
    The lightbulb went on, though I could tell it was flickering. »Cleveland.«
    Trish hopped in before I could make disparaging remarks about Euclid Avenue and her grand plan completely collapsed. »Vivian works at Bonwit. She’s in fragrances.«
    As guessed. »So I’ll get a discount?« I asked. Got a blank stare from Viv and an especially evil glare from my dishy delight. »How long you been in New York, cookie?« .
    She seemed like she’d need an earhorn in a library. »What?«
    »Here. New York. How long been you?«
    »Year,« she yelped. All tweeter and no woofer; painful to hear at top volume.
    »Yeah,« I said. »I’m an old hand in the batter, myself.«
    »What?«
    Our tête-á-tête continued in this merry manner until finally she smiled, I smiled, we signalled mutual toodle-loos and she let the crowd swallow her up. Best to put these kinds of moments out of their misery as soon as possible. Once she disappeared from view Trish punched me on the shoulder like a schoolyard bully.
    »What’d I do?«
    »You’re so malevolent,« Trish said. »Rolling over her like Ike over the Japs. Deliberate miscommuniques. You know you can send any smoke signal you want if you want to.«
    »I was coming in on the beam,« I said, perusing the room, hoping to spot Big Bertha and my little sweetie as they looked to sweep me off on some madcap, potentially life-threatening adventure. »Now I know you didn’t think we were perfect match. She still in junior high, by the way?« Trish frowned. »Can take the girl out of the hay, can’t take the hay out of the girl, notwithstanding her trendomatic threads. I’m sure she meant well, but –«
    »Maybe she can’t tell Blind Lemon from Blind Asparagus. I could?« She fired up one of her long and leans. »Be nice if you could flap your tongue about something besides slipping discs.«
    »I do, I do,« I pleaded. »But what was the point here? None. So why waste –«
    »Where’s your mystery date been, anyway? Talk about dying calf eyes. I’m going to bring over the bucket and start calling you Bossy.«
    »She said she’d be back. She’s just –«
    »Flaky,« she said. »And you’re not going to convince me she’s not a Holiday Girl. Maybe she acey-deucy’s if Wonder Woman’s not looking but all the same –«
    »You’re just jealous,« I said, but I knew better than that. There wasn’t a jealous bone in Irish’s carcass; whole time we were together, until she decided it was time to snap the twig, she’d kept an open mind. Then suddenly the madness took hold, she started talking about putting up a wigwam and making a basket for the papoose, I started feeling the need to set back out for the high country and the next thing we knew we were both back on our own again. But jealousy had had nothing to do with it. Only money, and how much of it I had, or didn’t