Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

He’d shaved, wore one of those blue blazers with the pocket crest, and had pressed and spitshined to within an inch of his life. If it hadn’t been for the hair, and the walk, I didn’t think I’d have ever recognized him. He picked up some tickets, it looked like; as he turned, I waved my arm, and caught his attention. He started toward us. Trish turned to look; didn’t seem attracted or disgusted when she circled back my way.
    »Who’s that?«
    »Friend of mine,« I said. »Surprised that he’s out in public. Usually, he stays in his store –«
    »Store?« she repeated.
    »He’s a record guy.«
    Her face fell like a rock. »Really?« she asked. »He’s got the build. Looks like he bathes occasionally, at least.«
    »He’s very well groomed, considering.«
    »He looks familiar, somehow,« she said. »What’s his name?«
    »Jim –« I said, but stopped myself before I provided ID. As he made his way between the tables he stuck out his hand before he reached us. For a second I pictured him standing outside a factory gate in New Hampshire, trying to get any one to stop and take a button.
    »What are you doing here?«
    »My brother got me some tickets,« he said. »Ring cycle starting in May. I was picking them up.«
    »What’s with the old school drag?« I asked. »Don’t you have any of those pants with the little whales on them? I thought those were required with these jackets.«
    He made a face. »Don’t wear ’em. You dress right when you come to places like this.« Both he and Trish looked over my standard wear, black pants, white shirt, black leather jacket. »Well. Some of us do, anyway.«
    »Jim, Trish.« I said, laughing. »Trish –«
    »A pleasure,« he said, grabbing her hand, shaking it up and down as if trying to pump the well dry. She made an expression that reminded me of a smile.
    »Have a seat.«
    »Thanks,« he said, and as he plumped himself down in an unoccupied chair he managed to bump against the table, which bumped against my knee, which caused me to spill half my third cup of percolations into my lap. Luckily, it had cooled off and I suffered no traumatic burns to delicate areas. »Walter, I’m sorry –«
    »No trouble,« I said, standing, shaking off excess drainage. The waiters looked at me but didn’t seem anxious to assist. The biddies made with the glares and I sat down again. Walter seemed to be working himself up to saying something else, but before he had a chance he managed to shift his elbow onto his coffee spoon, flipping it into the air. It sounded like a whole drawer of cutlery hit the floor when it landed, the joint was so damn hush-hush. Good thing he didn’t go out much; seemed like he could do more damage than a Gatling gun without even trying.
    »Walter says you’re deep into the record game,« Trish said. »Bad as he is?«
    »Worse, I think.«
    Her eyes shone like an anaconda’s, spotting a warthog. Something about him appealed to her baser instincts, I could tell – she’d never minded looks as long as the attitude was there, and Trish had the perceptions of a shrink when it came to sizing people up. Valentine knew what she was making of Jim, but she seemed to like it.
    »Hey, Walter,« he said, grinning; at the sight of those teeth, little wheels seemed to click in Trish’s head. »You having a party or what?«
    »What’re you talking about?«
    »Over there. Going to introduce me this time or just mix it up?«
    Still damp in the lap, I turned around and I saw Eulie and Chlojo, strolling across the big room, looking like they were trying to figure out how to reach the loge. My sweet petite wore a sleeveless black dress that stopped at an agreeable distance above her knees, and shiny leather boots. Chlo, ever stylish, wore a black jumpsuit, baggy as a bus driver’s; except bus drivers tend not to favour fabric that resembles rubber when you face left and snakeskin when you face right. Her own boots and gloves – also black – were comparatively understated, except they would have been big on Jersey Joe Walcott. The waiters didn’t look like they wanted any part of these customers, and vanished behind the bar.
    »Well, well,« said Trish. »Gang’s all here.«
    When I stood and hugged Eulie she hugged me back, as usual seeming strangely inexperienced with where the various hands should go. Chlo flashed us her standard warm stare but, thankfully, kept her lip buttoned. »Where’ve you been?« I asked as Eulie worked herself free of me. Didn’t