said. “It was a dull lawn party, anyway. And if you two still feel the same coming back, we can have everyone over here tonight.”
He glanced at Johnny.
“Only condition being that you have to stay sober and help chaperon, fellow.”
“I’ll be glad to,” Johnny said. “But why, if you don’t believe it?”
“For your peace of mind,” Roger said, “and for Chuck’s. And so that, when nothing happens tonight, I can say I told you so and then just laaaugh my ass off.”
“Well, whatever, thanks.” He was trembling worse than ever now that the relief had come, but his headache had retreated to a dull throb.
“One thing up front, though,” Roger said. “I don’t think we stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the owner to cancel on your unsubstantiated word, Johnny. This is probably one of his big business nights each year.”
Chuck said, “Well, we could work something out ...”
“Like what!”
“Well, we could tell him a story ... spin some kind of yarn ...”
“Lie, you mean? No, I won’t do that. Don’t ask me, Chuck.”
Chuck nodded. “All right.”
“We better get going,” Roger said briskly. “It’s quarter of five. We’ll take the Mercedes over to Somersworth.”
3
Bruce Carrick, the owner-manager, was tending bar when the three of them came in at five-forty. Johnny’s heart sank a little when he read the sign posted outside the lounge doors: PRIVATE PARTY THIS EVENING ONLY 7 PM TO CLOSING SEE YOU TOMORROW.
Carrick was not exactly being run into the ground. He was serving a few workmen who were drinking beer and watching the early news, and three couples who were having cocktails. He listened to Johnny’s story with a face that grew ever more incredulous. When he had finished, Carrick said: “You say Smith’s your name?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Mr. Smith, come on over to this window with me.”
He led Johnny to the lobby window, by the cloakroom door.
“Look out there Mr. Smith and tell me what you see.”
Johnny looked out, knowing what he would see. Route 9 ran west, now drying from a light afternoon sprinkle. Above, the sky was perfectly clear. The thunderheads had passed.
“Not much. At least, not now. But ...”
“But nothing,” Bruce Carrick said. “You know what I think? You want to know frankly? I think you’re a nut. Why you picked me for this royal screwing I don’t know or care. But if you got a second, sonny, I’ll tell you the facts of life. The senior class has paid me six hundred and fifty bucks for this bash. They’ve hired a pretty good rock ‘n’ roll band, Oak, from up in Maine. The food’s out there in the freezer, all ready to go into the microwave. The salads are on ice. Drinks are extra, and most of these kids are over eighteen and can drink all they want ... and tonight they will, who can blame them, you only graduate from high school once. I’ll take in two thousand dollars in the lounge tonight, no sweat. I got two extra barmen coming in. I got six waitresses and a hostess. If I should cancel this thing now, I lose the whole night, plus I got to pay back the six-fifty I already took for the meal. I don’t even get my regular dinner crowd because that sign’s been there all week. Do you get the picture?”
“Are there lightning rods on this place?” Johnny asked.
Carrick threw his hands up. “I tell this guy the facts of life and he wants to discuss lightning rods! Yeah, I got lightning rods! A guy came in here, before I added one, must be five years ago now. He gave me a song-and-dance about improving my insurance rates. So I bought the goddam lightning rods! Are you happy? Jesus Christ!” He looked at Roger and Chuck. “What are you two guys doing? Why are you letting this asshole run around loose? Get out, why don’t you? I got a business to run.”
“Johnny ...” Chuck began.
“Never mind,” Roger said. “Let’s go. Thank you for your time, Mr. Carrick, and for your polite and sympathetic attention.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Carrick said. “Bunch of nuts!” He strode back toward the lounge.
The three of them went out. Chuck looked doubtfully at the flawless sky. Johnny started toward the car, looking only at his feet, feeling stupid and defeated. His headache thudded sickly against his temples. Roger was standing with his hands in his back pockets, looking up at the long, low roof of the building.