Fight Song A Novel - By Joshua Mohr Page 0,49
mounted the stage. The crowd cheered them on. Everybody was alive.
“Why are you here?” Bob asks Björn, now that it seems he’s not about to fling any kind of terrible magical punishment Coffen’s way.
“To say there are no hard feelings. And that I hope you and your wife still come to the show tonight.”
“I’m trying to get her there. She’s going for a world record tomorrow morning and her coach doesn’t want her to go. But I’m currently hatching a master plan to win her back before the show. I’m getting a dental bib of my own soon. Say, do you have any dental bibs I can borrow?”
“Sure, in the trunk,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“Mostly I’m here to give you your rodent ally,” Björn says, still holding Schumann up by his wee tail. “He’s probably safer in your custody than mine.”
Ethically, Coffen is supposed to say yes to this. But why on god’s curdling earth would Bob want to be in charge of mousy Schumann? What if he loses him, squashes him, forgets to pay attention and a rogue kitty-cat enjoys an appetizer? Can Coffen handle any added pressure on his plate right now?
“Is he going to be like that forever?” asks Bob.
“Jury’s still out.”
“He has a wife and son.”
“And the jury got kneed in the junk and thrown in the trunk. Hey, that rhymed.”
Coffen sighs and sticks out his palm, and the magician places wee Schumann upon it to scamper. Bob thinks, You are not Schumann, but on the slim chance you are, I don’t want your disappearance on my conscience. I can board you for a bit. This might be good practice anyway, caring for an animal. Once I’m a weekend dad, I’ll have to get some gloomy pet to keep me company. An iguana that sits in the corner on a log, barely ever moving, like me.
It compels Bob to blurt, “I really need that dental bib.”
“Then let’s get you one,” Björn says.
Student of the ocean
“One more peep and you’re going in the glove box,” Coffen says to Schumann, who will not shut up with his squeaks. Björn’s given Bob a dental bib and now Coffen sits in his car, contemplating what to write on it. Or trying to contemplate, if the damn mouse would shut up.
Bob’s threat seems to work because the rodent immediately goes silent.
Is that contrition in his beady eyes? He sulks on Bob’s shoulder, minding his manners, a furry little gentleman.
Nobody wants to be in a box, Coffen thinks. Not even a mouse.
It’s hot in Bob’s car. He can smell the sautéing-cabbage funk from his armpits. And the mouse, he reasons, is probably producing his own stench.
A meteorologist might call the barometric pressure unseasonably high.
Coffen texts his daughter: Wanna see real life sea horses at aquarium today?
Coffen texts his son: Sea horses at aquarium today?
Margot: How long will it take?
Coffen: Only a couple hours. There’s fro-yo in it for you.
Margot: No thanks
Then Brent’s response comes in: i’m gaming
Bob: Please?
Brent: fine
Pick you up in 20?
fine
And off Coffen and Schumann zoom. He places the mouse in the glove box, says, “It’s best if my family doesn’t see you.”
The mouse squeaks and peeps his counterargument, but to no avail.
Bob figures it’s also wise to wipe the Kiss makeup off his face before he has to explain it to the kids. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to it, but he can always ask Ace to reapply it later.
Coffen calls Jane on the way, wanting to warn her of his impending arrival at the home he’s verboten from, but it’s Erma who answers Jane’s cell with, “What?”
“I’m coming by to pick up Brent.”
“We already know.”
“Has Jane said anything about the show I invited her to tonight?”
“We think it’s an unnecessary distraction the night before she goes for the record.”
“What does she think?”
“We’re concerned that any unnecessary stimuli the night before could clutter her psyche, like garbage in the ocean.”
“That sounds like Gotthorm.”
“He’s brilliant.”
“Does Jane want to come with me tonight?”
Erma, talking to somebody, presumably Jane, yells, “He’s asking questions about the magic show.”
“She has the tickets I left with Gotthorm, right?” Bob asks.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve got the tickets stuck to the fridge.”
“Can I quickly talk to Jane? For like ten seconds?”
“He wants to talk to you for like ten seconds.”
Coffen can’t make out Jane’s voice in the background, but soon Erma says, “Honk when you’re here and Brent will come out.”
Erma hangs up.
Coffen honks when he’s there for Brent to come out.
But it’s not his son who exits first.