86'd: A Novel - By Dan Fante Page 0,56
Dennis was shushing me. “Bruno, man, knock it off. You’re attracting attention. Just chill.”
I got the movie house manager’s name and the kid’s name and wrote them on the back of my ticket stub.
The evening ended early. Che-Che and the professor went to eat at Umberto’s down in Little Italy, then she said she was tired, so I dropped her and Dennis in the Village, at her place, right after one.
Since I was already downtown and still pissed off about my pants, I decided to stop in at St. Adrian’s bar on West Broadway for a few drinks. Five or six years before the place had been a favorite night haunt of mine. They had twice-weekly poetry readings and a couple of local newspaper guys who write columns had frequented the place from time to time.
When I got to the bar the building was the same but the name was different. It was now called Euphoria.
As I was parking the car, a pretty girl in her late thirties or early forties, wearing a short skirt, stepped out the entrance door for a smoke. When she saw the light-blue Benz stretch her eyes lit up. “Is that yours?” she called as I was clicking my driver’s door locked.
“Yeah, it is,” I said. “Not exactly a low-profile ride, is it?”
“Damn,” she cooed, “what a beautiful limo. The car. It’s a Mercedes, right?”
“Yeah, it is.”
She was smiling and, for sure, a little drunk too. A very sexy smile on the face of a very sexy girl. “Hey, would it be okay if I looked inside?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, “let me open it up for you.” I pressed the remote in my hand and after the locks popped, I walked over and chauffeur-style opened the back door for her.
When she stepped in and sat down I checked out her legs. They were beautiful—all the way up to her pink panties.
After sliding across the seat to make room for me, I got in too. “THIS IS ME,” she giggled. “This is WHO I AM. The bar, the moonroof, the DVD TV! I’m in heaven.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to take my time.
“Oh cripes. I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I’m Heidi. And who are you? I know! Don’t tell me. You’re Prince friggin’ Charming.”
“I’m Bruno. Bruno, from L.A.”
Heidi shook my hand.
“How about a ride in my Benz, Heidi? Would you like that?”
“Geez, Bruno from L.A.,” Heidi giggled. “I’d like nothing better but I’m, you know, with somebody. How about a rain check?”
“Too bad. I’m out of town in the next day or two. Some other time, maybe.”
Pretty Heidi was still smiling. “You going in?”
“I’m planning to.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“You sure can, Heidi.”
Inside, the bar was the same as I remembered, minus the short stage and the sound system. A few more tables.
Heidi was at the bar with a straight-looking guy in a sports jacket and tie. She introduced us. He was Biff or Bill or Benny or Buck or Barney, or some goddamn thing. He sneered and shook my hand, reaching across Heidi. I could tell that the asshole was cordial because he had to be and not because he was a friendly person. He was with the hottest girl in the bar and he had to put up with guys like me saying hello to captive fox. Then he went back to his scotch-rocks and me and Heidi chatted on about the limo business and rock stars and what it was like for me to do my job driving all those cool celebrities. Somehow her smile and confident manner reminded me of a much younger J. C. Smart.
Eventually, three drinks later—doubles for me—her guy stepped outside for a smoke with one of his bar pals and Heidi, still flashing the amazing, sexy smile, leans close to me and says, “Excuse me, Bruno honey, I’ve got to make a pit stop. Be right back.”
From time to time, in my years in bars, boldness and being pushy with women has worked for me. So, a few seconds after she’d gone, I decided to make my move.
I followed Heidi to the ladies’ room, then waited outside the door until I was sure she had entered a stall. Then I walked in quietly. There were only two booths. I opened the door to the one next to the one she was in, then stood up on the seat and looked over the top.
There was Heidi taking a squirt. I watched and waited. When she leaned back