Memories of Hazey Jane – Part 6
Posted on November 14, 2008
“What was- oh, it’s you again.” She was struggling to load her bags into the back of an assassin-black Escalade. “It’s like you’ve been my personal bellboy.” She laughed as I helped her. “Changed your mind?”
“I’ve been out here nearly half an hour – I think my friend flaked out on me.” I lied. “I guess I can get in line for a cab, but…”
“Hell, no!” She turned to a leggy man in a brown leather jacket and maroon pants with fabric woven into tufted into mesmerizing array tufted, parallel lines. The name slipped me. “Harry? You have room for one more?”
“You make any more friends, and we’ll have to charter a Atlantic bus or something.”
“Don’t worry.” Jane chuckled. “He’s only a nice guy pretending to be an asshole – a real hypocrite.”
Harry got between us, and gave me the once-over. Luckily I kept my hands in my pockets. Six feet wouldn’t be an overly generous estimate. “Well, are you going to introduce us, or should I frisk him first?”
She glided to my side, and put an arm around my waist. It felt incredibly warm. “His name is Jeff – the man who’s going to resurrect my career.”
“He’s one of those, then?” He whispered, but his solid timbre made it pretty easy to pick up. I tried not to look confused. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”
“If I were any good with lessons, I might’ve gotten a proper degree and a job by now. You know what the Tralfamadorians say about the dead.”
Harry glanced at me again, and jerked his head towards the car. “Get in. I should make you pay for the gas.”
I could feel my rear-end freeze as soon as it hit the black leather seats. A thick miasma of incense churned my stomach like a washing machine. Joanna, a horse-faced, rebellious-haired blonde with thick-rimmed red glasses, gave me a smile that felt like the front of a good fireplace. I told her my name, and she remarked that I possessed a certain frazzled charm. In other words, Harry said, she used to bed guys who looked fed-up with the world.
“He used to be a bouncer at Sutra.” Jane whispered. “Then one night he snapped a guy’s neck, and they had to let him go.”
“Really?” I asked, weakly.
Jane burst out laughing, then Joanne, and finally Harry, who sounded like a bad guy on Power Rangers. “Kid, I thought you were a New Yorker.” He added.
“I’m from Queens.”
“Like I said, I thought you were a New Yorker.”
“We’re dropping him off first, honey?” said Joanne.
“If we detour to Queens Boulevard now, we won’t make Happy Hour. You want to miss one-dollar Yeager shots?”
“I hope you’re not thinking of those.” She said, pointing to the wheel. Pulling down the visor, she adjusted her makeup, though I’m not sure it ever did any good.
“It’s okay – I’ll tag along. I mean, if you guys are okay-“
“I invited you, remember?” Jane told me, almost indignantly.
“Sweetie, don’t you have work or something in the morning?” Joanne suggested.
I shook my head.
“It’s okay…we’re getting old. We don’t have that many friends who can keep up with us anymore. You sure you don’t have someone waiting at home?”
“Really, it’s fine. Sometimes it feels as if I’ve lived the same day again and again.”
“I feel you.” Harry nodded.
“You what?”
“Have you not been around black people much, Mister Jeff?” Jane said, flicking my forehead. “Harry’s saying he understands.”
“Then again, I heard he used to experiment as a kid.” Joanne said. Jane snickered, and I could feel Harry’s glare bounce off the rear-view.
Jane leaned toward me, looking through the windshield. “You guys brought anything for me?”
“What, now? Was the flight that bad?” said Joanna.
“We got caught in another plane’s wake not long after takeoff.” I explained. “Thought it was going to tear us apart.”
“Takeoff? You mean before we landed.” Jane corrected.
“No, I’m pretty sure it was…yes, yes…you’re right.” Sometimes I had to remind myself that it was no use trying to explain my personal paradox.
“Well, as Jeff said, we all thought we were going to die. So yes, I think now would be a great time for it.”
“Glove compartment, baby. There should be a couple rolled already.” Harry grunted. Joanna opened it up, and handed Jane a brown, wrinkled paper bag nearly translucent with oil stains. I saw her face light up again as she extracted the contents – a Ziploc bag filled with funky greenish-brown stuff. But apparently that’s not what she wanted, because she stuck two finger inside, and fished around for something – tiny, from the way she grasped.
“Got a light?” It took me a moment to realize she was asking me. I still carry the silver lighter my dad gave me before the cancer got him. Sometimes I think that if he’d given it to me earlier, he might still be around. She took it, lit it, and used it in one motion, like an old friend, tilting her head back, letting her hair cascade down like a fountain. Closing her eyes, she sucked deeply, then sprayed the roof with a plume of smoke that made my eyes water.
“Don’t do that shit in my car!” Harry yelled. “What happens if I get pulled over, man?”
“I’ll be nice and offer to share.” Jane shrugged, then thrust me the joint. I nearly dropped it. “What – don’t tell me you’ve never seen one of these before.”
Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. It’s just that of all the things I expected to do Monday morning, this wasn’t very high on the list.
“I don’t feel anything. You sure this is real?”
“You can’t puff at it like a cigarette, hon…you’ve got to hold it in.”
I looked out the window – I didn’t even notice when we had entered the city, but there we were, on the East Side of 34th street, heading downtown. “I still don’t feel anything.” I gave up after the third try, and alternated between watching the buildings go by, and Jane, who also stole glances at me, usually when she thought I wasn’t looking.
We ended up ditching the car somewhere between sixth and B, right near the park. I asked Harry if he thought it was a good idea. First he smiled at me. Then he leaned down and whispered:
“I’ve got 9mm of leeway to fix things if it isn’t.”
You might not be surprised that I let the matter drop. The streets were pretty sparse; my guess was that by now, everyone had chosen a spot for the night, either at home, like a good husband, or a good watering hole. Ours was a small place on 5th and A; as soon as I saw the name, I got nervous.
“Club Sing Sing?”
“I haven’t been here in forever.” Jane said quite happily. “I wonder if the bartender still remembers me?”
As it turned out, she had no reason to worry. As soon as she stepped in, the man in question – a buff Italian guy named Rob, nearly leaped over the counter and swept her in an embrace that made my blood rise just a little. Strangely, it made me think about you, either waiting at home or searching the airport in vain. Just for a moment.
Most of the walls adjacent to the bar were mirrored. The floor was laminate, and looked like this place could have been a dance studio a long long time ago. In the near dark, the effect was quite disorienting. “Have you two known each other a while?” Joanna asked me.
“We met each other on the flight..so, like…two days?” I said, forgetting myself.
“Two days?”
“Yeager shots?” Jane proudly announced, dumping five shot glasses on our tables. “Liquid courage for everyone!”
“Jane, you didn’t tell me that Jeff…you just met him tonight?”
In response, she slid in next to me, laughing as she nearly knocked me off the bench. Then she enveloped my waist, leaned on my shoulder, and practically paralyzed me. “Isn’t it weird? I get on this plane, wondering what I’m going to do with myself when I get here, when I happen to meet the best photographer in New York City.”
Harry gave me an another appraising look. I did my best to look as abashed as possible.
“You have a studio?” He finally asked.
“I…I do a bit of work with one. About five of us, not counting assistants.”
“Hey guys!” It was a serene, vaguely familiar voice I should’ve placed immediately, if it wasn’t for the sheer improbability of it all. But I looked up, and it was the Redhead Girl, and when we looked at each other, the course of time seemed to stand still. Apparently, she was just as surprised to see me. For her, at least, the surprise wasn’t pleasant; she looked at me as if I could give her cancer.
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