talking to Hearn himself, Dick said. There’s a chain.
A grapevine, Slaney said.
Only a few people got Hearn’s number, Dick said.
You got his number? Slaney said.
I’m going to give it to you right now.
You must be pretty high up in the chain.
Pretty high, Dick said. There’s fifteen of us.
Mexico, Slaney said.
The hull’s been refitted for the cargo, Dick said. Faux wood panelling. All Slaney had to do was get his arse to Vancouver.
There’s going to be a party, Dick said. Hearn is dying to see you, man.
Forgive me, Dick, but have we met?
Dirty Dick, he said.
I can’t put a face, Slaney said.
Richard Downey, Dick said. They used to call me Dirt.
The hockey tape, Slaney said.
I had hockey tape on my glasses.
You had tape across the bridge.
Somebody shoved me.
Stepped on your glasses.
Ground them into the dirt.
And the shoes.
So what?
The platform heels.
Your mother wears army boots, man.
Dirty Dick, Slaney said.
I’ve been keeping up with you in the papers, Dick said.
Dirt, I remember you, Slaney said.
I don’t go by that anymore.
How you been? Slaney said.
It’s Richard.
Okay. Richard. How the hell are you? Get your glasses fixed?
The papers got you figured in Montreal, Dick said. Hope you’re not in Montreal, man.
Slaney wrote Hearn’s number on the back of his hand with a pen dangling from a string near the phone and he thanked Dick and hung up.
A waitress with orange hair pushed her bum against the swing door. She had a tub full of dishes. After a moment she came back out and put down a paper placemat and a napkin and fork and knife before a guy in a suit. There was a pencil behind her ear. Slaney put some more money in the phone and he dialled Hearn’s new number and he let it ring. Then Hearn picked up.
How’s it going, man, Hearn said.
It’s cool, Slaney said.
So, we’re cool, Hearn asked. It’s cool to hear from you, man. Hear your voice.
Montreal, man, Slaney said.
Listen, Hearn said. Tell me about it. Slaney was pretty sure Hearn was cooking something. He could hear a frying pan, something spitting.
They’d always had a way of not talking that was, in every respect, exactly like talking. They already knew what the other would say. Talking was after the fact.
What’s the French for soup? Slaney said. I’m trying to get myself a proper drop of soup.
The waitress behind the bar took an ice cream spoon out of a bowl of cloudy water and flicked it clean. She leaned so far into the freezer one foot lifted off the floor and her white polyester slip was visible under her skirt. The lid bumped down on her back. Cold light and steam poured upward from the freezer.
Consommé, Hearn said.
I said consommé, Slaney said. But it was just water. I’m here now in an English place trying to get a drop of soup.
Good to hear your voice, man.
You got someone there? Slaney said.
My old lady.
Your new old lady?
The new one, yes.
Where’s your old old lady?
This is the real thing, Hearn said.
I thought the other thing was real.
She was real, all right. The waitress emerged from the freezer and the lid thumped down behind her. She had pale skin and a sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes were a blue so dark they seemed unfocused. Her hair caught the light and looked electrified.
The new one is different, Hearn said.
Different, that’s deadly.
I’m different when I’m with her.
You’re both different.
Never mind, man. I try to tell you something.
Go ahead.
Never mind.
No, go ahead.
I’m trying to express something.
I’m all ears.
I try, every once in a while, to say something to you.
Get deep, I hear you.
Never mind. Slaney? Never mind.
Philosophize. I’m here for you, man.
Slaney?
Go ahead.
Everything is not a big ha-ha, Hearn said. The waitress held the ice cream scoop above a piece of pie and pulled the trigger with her thumb. A ball of vanilla ice cream dropped onto the top of the pie and slid sideways.
Lay it on me, Slaney
A grapevine, Slaney said.
Only a few people got Hearn’s number, Dick said.
You got his number? Slaney said.
I’m going to give it to you right now.
You must be pretty high up in the chain.
Pretty high, Dick said. There’s fifteen of us.
Mexico, Slaney said.
The hull’s been refitted for the cargo, Dick said. Faux wood panelling. All Slaney had to do was get his arse to Vancouver.
There’s going to be a party, Dick said. Hearn is dying to see you, man.
Forgive me, Dick, but have we met?
Dirty Dick, he said.
I can’t put a face, Slaney said.
Richard Downey, Dick said. They used to call me Dirt.
The hockey tape, Slaney said.
I had hockey tape on my glasses.
You had tape across the bridge.
Somebody shoved me.
Stepped on your glasses.
Ground them into the dirt.
And the shoes.
So what?
The platform heels.
Your mother wears army boots, man.
Dirty Dick, Slaney said.
I’ve been keeping up with you in the papers, Dick said.
Dirt, I remember you, Slaney said.
I don’t go by that anymore.
How you been? Slaney said.
It’s Richard.
Okay. Richard. How the hell are you? Get your glasses fixed?
The papers got you figured in Montreal, Dick said. Hope you’re not in Montreal, man.
Slaney wrote Hearn’s number on the back of his hand with a pen dangling from a string near the phone and he thanked Dick and hung up.
A waitress with orange hair pushed her bum against the swing door. She had a tub full of dishes. After a moment she came back out and put down a paper placemat and a napkin and fork and knife before a guy in a suit. There was a pencil behind her ear. Slaney put some more money in the phone and he dialled Hearn’s new number and he let it ring. Then Hearn picked up.
How’s it going, man, Hearn said.
It’s cool, Slaney said.
So, we’re cool, Hearn asked. It’s cool to hear from you, man. Hear your voice.
Montreal, man, Slaney said.
Listen, Hearn said. Tell me about it. Slaney was pretty sure Hearn was cooking something. He could hear a frying pan, something spitting.
They’d always had a way of not talking that was, in every respect, exactly like talking. They already knew what the other would say. Talking was after the fact.
What’s the French for soup? Slaney said. I’m trying to get myself a proper drop of soup.
The waitress behind the bar took an ice cream spoon out of a bowl of cloudy water and flicked it clean. She leaned so far into the freezer one foot lifted off the floor and her white polyester slip was visible under her skirt. The lid bumped down on her back. Cold light and steam poured upward from the freezer.
Consommé, Hearn said.
I said consommé, Slaney said. But it was just water. I’m here now in an English place trying to get a drop of soup.
Good to hear your voice, man.
You got someone there? Slaney said.
My old lady.
Your new old lady?
The new one, yes.
Where’s your old old lady?
This is the real thing, Hearn said.
I thought the other thing was real.
She was real, all right. The waitress emerged from the freezer and the lid thumped down behind her. She had pale skin and a sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks. Her eyes were a blue so dark they seemed unfocused. Her hair caught the light and looked electrified.
The new one is different, Hearn said.
Different, that’s deadly.
I’m different when I’m with her.
You’re both different.
Never mind, man. I try to tell you something.
Go ahead.
Never mind.
No, go ahead.
I’m trying to express something.
I’m all ears.
I try, every once in a while, to say something to you.
Get deep, I hear you.
Never mind. Slaney? Never mind.
Philosophize. I’m here for you, man.
Slaney?
Go ahead.
Everything is not a big ha-ha, Hearn said. The waitress held the ice cream scoop above a piece of pie and pulled the trigger with her thumb. A ball of vanilla ice cream dropped onto the top of the pie and slid sideways.
Lay it on me, Slaney
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