Up in Honey's Room (19 page)

A
t Vera's Jurgen was quiet, he was pleasant, he was a cute young guy in a sport coat.

Honey brought him home, turned on a lamp, and he was an escaped prisoner of war standing in her living room. Maybe because Jurgen seemed at home in Vera's formal setting and Honey had never imagined a German soldier in her apartment. German soldiers were in the newspaper. Jurgen trusted her, had come willingly, and now she wasn't sure how this was going to work out. Arrange for Carl to see him tomorrow. They talk, maybe have a drink, and then what? Jurgen says
auf Wiedersehen
and Carl lets him walk away? After coming a thousand miles to get him? Or will he handcuff Jurgen and take him back to Oklahoma? What he's been dying to do for months.

And Jurgen will think you set him up. Lured him here for Carl. Telling him Carl can't touch you. Telling him to take your word, it was good as gold. Sounding like a nitwit, Little Miss Sunshine, when she was a little girl and the world was perfect
except for her brother Darcy being in it, living in the same house. Or telling Jurgen it was safe because right now it was like being in the eye of a storm.

She'd be nice to Jurgen, not too nice but nice, and ask him if he was hungry, if he'd like a drink, if he wanted to listen to the radio or one of her records; she had Sinatra, Woody Herman, Buddy Rich, Louis Prima and Keely Smith.

“You don't have Bing Crosby? ‘I'll Be Home for Christmas'?”

“I never cared that much for Bing. I have Bob Crosby and the Bobcats and my all-time favorite, Billie Holiday doing ‘Gee, Baby, Ain't I Good to You.'”

“What about Bob Wills and Roy Acuff?”

Honey was already singing in a hushed voice, making it sound easy, “Love makes me treat you the way that I do, gee, baby, ain't I good to you,” and said, “You like hillbilly music, uh?”

Jurgen said he started listening to Grand Ole Opry in '34, when he was here with his family.

He was comfortable with her. Didn't say a word about Carl coming to see him. Never mentioned his name. He believed what she'd told him, that he was safe with her, didn't have to worry about being grabbed and hauled back to Oklahoma, and it made her feel like a traitor, not sure at all now what Carl would do.

“There was another Tulsa marshal,” Jurgen said, “I met at the camp, Gary Marion. He turned in his star because he missed the rodeo and he's back competing.”

“Rides bucking broncos?”

“Rides homicidal bulls. The day I left the camp—”

“The day you escaped?”

“I got a letter from Gary he wrote while he was in Austin ro-deo-ing. That's what he called it. Gary was never a trail-driving cowhand, but he wore the hat and rode bulls on the circuit.”

“You want to be a bull rider when you grow up?”

“I have no plans to grow up. I had thought of being a cowboy and wear the hat and the boots, but if you can compete—ride wild horses and killer bulls for eight seconds at a time—you don't have to be a ranch hand, a working cowboy.”

“And you get to wear the hat, and the boots like Carl's,” Honey said. “Carl looks more like a cowboy than any cowboy I've ever seen, and he doesn't wear the hat.”

She brought Carl into the conversation without thinking, pictures of him prowling around in her mind, but Jurgen didn't pick up on it. He said, “Your brother's giving me one of his hats.”

“I hope it fits,” Honey said. “Darcy has a tiny head.” She looked at her watch and then at Jurgen, both of them on the sofa now. “It's late. I'm ready for bed.”

“So am I,” Jurgen said.

“I don't have a spare bedroom,” Honey said, “but there's a double bed in my room you can have half of if you promise not to start any funny business.”

He said, “Of course,” but look at him grinning.

“I'm serious, no fooling around,” Honey said and believed she meant it. “I'm not a girl who engages in any kind of intimate activity on a first date. Really, not till I get the feeling we might have something going. But I'm not censored by the Hays Office, so you don't have to sleep with one foot on the floor.”

Jurgen said, “This is our first date?”

“You know what I mean.”

What got it going, he touched her bare shoulder under the covers in the dark and Honey couldn't help turning to him saying, “Hold me.” That was all she meant, she wanted to be held, she loved being held. But then once she was snug in his arms she let her hand roam over his body to see what this slim boy was all
about, feeling ribs, a flat belly, let her hand slip down some more and now both of them were making sounds in the dark, making love with a dynamite kick that left them hanging on to each other out of breath, not a word spoken until Honey said, “I got to know more about you, Hun.”

She wasn't going to answer the phone in the morning no matter how many times it rang, wanting to discourage poor Walter, having no idea if Carl would call or not. The phone rang nine different times before 8
A.M.

 

What Walter did, once he realized Honey wasn't going to answer the phone, he drove to her building and buzzed the apartment.

“It's I,” Walter said. “Open the door.”

He was here—she felt she had to let him in. Honey woke up Jurgen and told him to go back to sleep. “If you have to go to the bathroom, go, quick. Walter's coming up. Or stay in the bathroom, take a shower.”

The first thing Walter said, true to form, he told her he had not had his coffee this morning. That got them in the kitchen, Walter at the table, and it gave Honey a glimmer of hope. He wouldn't try to jump her till he'd had his coffee. But then didn't seem interested in jumping her, talking so much about Joe Aubrey, wanting to know where he was.

Honey said, “What're you asking me for?”

“I picked him up yesterday at Michigan Central. He must be still here.”

“Bo drove him out to your farm.”

“They never came there. I called Bo this morning, Vera says he wasn't home, he went out. I asked her was he gone all night. Vera says she doesn't know what time he came home, she isn't his mother.”

“You're sure he's not at the farm?”

Honey didn't know why she said that. It brought out the Walter she had been married to. “You still don't listen,” Walter said. “I already told you they didn't come there.”

“Well, maybe they
came
while you're wasting time yelling at me.”

He said, “Where is Jurgen,” in a quieter tone.

“In the bathroom.”

“I'll wait for him to come out.”

“Walter, if I don't know where Joe Aubrey is, how's Jurgen supposed to know?”

“I have to find him,” Walter said. “I have to go to Georgia and set my timetable. I want to be there, ready, no later than tomorrow.”

“Does Joe have a girlfriend here?”

“Whores.”

“Then that's where he is,” Honey said, “at a whorehouse in Paradise Valley. You know he likes colored girls. He took Bo along to see if he can get him to go straight. After a night with the girls they're still there, having their coffee, resting up. Do I have to think for you, Walter? You want to go to Georgia? Take the bus.”

 

“That sounded like an entire year of marriage,” Jurgen said, “the abridged version. Tell me why you married him.”

“I don't remember.”

“Walter's lucky. If he can't find Joe, he has an excuse for not assassinating your president. Do you like Roosevelt?”

“I've voted for him since coming of age.”

He was grinning at her again.

“Would you like to go out West with me?”

Someone downstairs buzzed.

Honey's first thought, Walter was back.

But it was her brother, Darcy.

“I can't believe it,” Honey said, “it's been years.” She looked at Jurgen. “You know him, don't you?”

“Yes, the cattle rustler. He's giving me one of his range hats.”

“You may as well say hi to him,” Honey said.

 

Darcy walked in past her, his spurs
ching
ing, Jurgen catching his attention, Jurgen standing by the sofa in Honey's orange kimono. Darcy did pause to look at his sister and tell her, “I'd kiss you but I smell of rotten meat.” He said, “How you doin', Sis?” and turned to Jurgen.

“Man, you sure get around. The last I heard you're livin' at Vera's. I'd see her now and then I delivered meat, but never thought much of her. She's not my type, too bossy. Tells me to bring her a leg-a-lamb and some chops instead of beef. I wanted to tell her she could be a prison hack, easy. That young swishy fella works for her, Bo? He reminds me of a con at Eddysville use to dress up like a woman in his cell. His name's Andy but looked a lot like Bo. We called him Candy Andy or Lollypop, the all-day sucker.”

“You're here since last fall,” Honey said, “but wait till you smell like rotten meat before stopping by?”

“Was October I got my release and come here to do business with Walter. Up till yesterday I'm busier'n that one-legged man y'all of heard about. I'm comin' down from Flint in the refrigerator van, two calves aboard startin' to stink to high heaven and my generator cut out on me. I hooked on the back of a semi with a chain the guy had and he towed me to a gas station. We stood around talkin' about the calves and meat rationin' till I went
across the street to get somethin' to eat at a hamburger joint. I'm done, I start out the door, they's state police over there looking at my van. Here I am, I don't know are they checkin' on ownership or the smell comin' off the calves.”

Jurgen said, “Didn't you buy the truck at auction?”

“Actually I swiped it off a lot in Toledo, down there with a buddy of mine. I told Walter I paid eighteen hunnert for it used and got him to go halves with me, so I'm not out nothin'.”

Honey said, “Why'd the calves smell so bad?”

“They was already dead when I picked 'em up. They's layin' in a pasture and this farmer said take 'em if I could hoist 'em in the van. So they didn't cost me nothin' either. I thought I'd take the calves to Walter and have him look 'em over in case they had a disease. If Walter told me to get rid of 'em I would. But I could see him cuttin' out the livers and startin' to slice onions.”

“You had to leave the van,” Honey said.

“I had to get outta there. I hitched a ride back to Flint and took a bus and another one out to Walter's and he tells me he's done with the meat business. He's goin' down to Georgia to assassinate the president. I said, ‘Where's that leave me? I been workin' my ass for you.' Walter says, ‘Do what you want.' I started to yell at him but thought, What's the use? You can't tell a Kraut's already made up his mind nothin'.”

Honey said, “He told you he's gonna assassinate the president?”

“In Georgia. The president don't live in Georgia.”

“You tell him that?”

“Hell no, let him find out hisself.”

“Poor Walter,” Honey said, “nobody believes him.”

Jurgen said, “Has he ever done anything?”

“Nothing I know of,” Honey said, and looked at her brother. “This was yesterday and you still smell?”

“It'll wear off afterwhile.”

“If you're through rustling cattle you can take off your spurs.” She watched Darcy grin at her and Honey said, “You have something else on the fire, don't you? Another way to break the law?”

“It's what outlaws do, Sunshine, how they make their livin'. I'm done workin' beef. I'm lookin' at an item now hardly weighs anything a-tall, nylon stockings. I could sell all I get my hands on, twenty bucks a pair. Twenty-five even.”

“I could too,” Honey said, “if we had any.”

“You gonna tell me you don't have nylon stockings put away for your best customers, the ones use that Hudson's credit coin?”

“We haven't had nylons in two years. Du Pont's still making parachutes. I doubt we'll have any till Japan surrenders,” Honey said. “Why don't you join the navy, see if you can shorten the war.”

Darcy said, “All right, but if you did have these stockings put away, where would you hide 'em?”

Honey rolled her eyes at Jurgen. Jurgen said to her, “You swear you don't have nylons?”

“Cross my heart.”

Jurgen turned to Darcy. “You were telling us you became too busy with meat to call on your sister. You said you were busier than that one-legged man we know about. Tell me, what busy one-legged man did you mean?”

“The one in the ass-kickin' contest,” Darcy said. “You heard me mention that coin you use at Hudson's to buy on credit? What if you got some brass and stamped out your own coins, as many as you want, with names on 'em you make up?”

“Now he's a counterfeiter,” Honey said.

“You dress up in a suit and tie, use one of the coins to charge big-ticket items, a fur coat for the wife—”

“Muriel would drop dead,” Honey said.

“I don't give it to her. I return it and get cash.”

“If you charged it, they take it off your bill.”

She watched Darcy standing in her living room thinking, looking for loopholes. She watched him step toward her club chair done in a beige cotton tapestry she'd bought at Sears, Roebuck for $49.95, her favorite for reading. Honey told her brother if he sat down in it she'd kill him. “I hate to say it, Darcy, but you don't go with my decor. You're more the outdoorsy type, good at rustlin' cattle. Why don't you go out West and be a cowboy?”

“They's no money in cowboyin',” Darcy said. “Don't worry your head, I'll get into somethin' makes money. This mornin' I made a deal with that swishy boy, Bo?”

Darcy grinned.

“One time I'm deliverin' meat, the door opens, the back one, here's Bo wearin' a black shiny dress. He says, ‘May I help you?' like we never met before. He has perfume on, earrings, rouge, lipstick. You had to keep from kissin' him. But that wasn't this mornin'. This mornin' he had on men's clothes, pants and a coat.”