It was my partner, Angie’s husband, who was killed when that pickup exploded at the Rendezvous Club.”
“Aw, Jeeze, Alex, I’m really sorry.” Freddy did look stricken and subdued. Either there was more human compassion in him than I had supposed, or else the gin had finally caught up with him.
The ladies seemed to be taking a long time in the powder room. Freddy and I sipped politely for a while, then just gave up and finished our drinks. I waved down the waitress again and she brought two more. That time I dropped a ten and a five on her tray and she smiled again.
“So, you’re flying Jeannine out to Stevens in the morning?”
“Yep, got to get my new wife properly settled.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a despicable scumbag?”
“Oh yeah, the subject comes up now and then, but it’s worth it. Look, I’m not going to rape the girl. I just happen to know how lonely she’ll be in a couple of months. Hey, giving her a shoulder to cry on is practically a public service.”
Angie and Jeannine threaded their way back across the dance floor. Jeannine seemed to be taller and happier than when they left. Angie sat down, but Jeannine stood by her chair.
“Freddy, would you take me back to the hotel, please? I’m really jet-lagged and tomorrow’s a big day.” She didn’t wait for an answer, she turned and started for the door. Freddy scowled, drained his drink, and got up. Then he reached for Jeannine’s untouched glass and carried it with him, sipping as he went.
“Good Lord, Angie, what did you tell that girl?”
“Oh, I just mentioned the birds and the bees, Alaskan style. She may have a new idea about who’s boss, and she does know to call me if she gets lonely. Just the usual girl talk. Alex, do you think Freddy is a friend of yours?”
“Well, he used to be, but after tonight I’m not so sure.”
“Damn, men are so blind. He can’t blame you for Jeannine’s rescue, I mean in general.”
“Aw, come on, Angie. I’ve known Freddy for fifteen years. We flew together when we were trying to figure out which end of the airplane goes first.”
Angie shook her head, obviously disgusted with me, and downed half her drink. The ice was almost melted. She wrinkled her nose and reached for my glass. “Alex, all I can tell you is to just look in his eyes sometime. Did you bring me here to dance, or to argue?”
We danced. Swede was on a nostalgia kick. We did foxtrots from the Fifties, the Swing a couple of times, even some disco. The mood was just right for us. If you’re dancing for fun, not trying to smother your partner or using the dance as foreplay, you give your partner some room and go with the music.
The waitress brought fresh drinks. I tipped her again, we danced again, and again. Around two, Swede played his theme song.
The theme song, of course, is “Wagon Wheels.” I hope you know that song, and if not, your parents and grandparents do. Wagon wheels, wagon wheels, keep on a turnin’ wagon wheels.… It evokes endless prairies, loneliness, but bravery and determination. That song has always struck me as appropriate for Fairbanks because if there weren’t people with more bravery, guts, and determination than good sense, Fairbanks wouldn’t exist. Wagon wheels, carry me ho-oo-ome, then, very softly, wagon wheels, carry me home. Swede shut down the organ.
House lights came up full and people scrambled out as if the lights were a cold shower. We sank down at the table and drained our glasses.
“Want to take me back to the hotel, Alex? I may be catching jet lag.”
“Nonsense, the party is just starting. Help me stand up and I’ll show you some real music and dancing.”
Chapter Ten
Come what may, time and the hour run through the roughest night . We gave up trying to appease hangovers with decaffeinated coffee at the Maranatha, and I braved the morning sunlight in search of a phone. No telephone in the room, of course, no doubt because it might disturb our meditation. I
“Aw, Jeeze, Alex, I’m really sorry.” Freddy did look stricken and subdued. Either there was more human compassion in him than I had supposed, or else the gin had finally caught up with him.
The ladies seemed to be taking a long time in the powder room. Freddy and I sipped politely for a while, then just gave up and finished our drinks. I waved down the waitress again and she brought two more. That time I dropped a ten and a five on her tray and she smiled again.
“So, you’re flying Jeannine out to Stevens in the morning?”
“Yep, got to get my new wife properly settled.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a despicable scumbag?”
“Oh yeah, the subject comes up now and then, but it’s worth it. Look, I’m not going to rape the girl. I just happen to know how lonely she’ll be in a couple of months. Hey, giving her a shoulder to cry on is practically a public service.”
Angie and Jeannine threaded their way back across the dance floor. Jeannine seemed to be taller and happier than when they left. Angie sat down, but Jeannine stood by her chair.
“Freddy, would you take me back to the hotel, please? I’m really jet-lagged and tomorrow’s a big day.” She didn’t wait for an answer, she turned and started for the door. Freddy scowled, drained his drink, and got up. Then he reached for Jeannine’s untouched glass and carried it with him, sipping as he went.
“Good Lord, Angie, what did you tell that girl?”
“Oh, I just mentioned the birds and the bees, Alaskan style. She may have a new idea about who’s boss, and she does know to call me if she gets lonely. Just the usual girl talk. Alex, do you think Freddy is a friend of yours?”
“Well, he used to be, but after tonight I’m not so sure.”
“Damn, men are so blind. He can’t blame you for Jeannine’s rescue, I mean in general.”
“Aw, come on, Angie. I’ve known Freddy for fifteen years. We flew together when we were trying to figure out which end of the airplane goes first.”
Angie shook her head, obviously disgusted with me, and downed half her drink. The ice was almost melted. She wrinkled her nose and reached for my glass. “Alex, all I can tell you is to just look in his eyes sometime. Did you bring me here to dance, or to argue?”
We danced. Swede was on a nostalgia kick. We did foxtrots from the Fifties, the Swing a couple of times, even some disco. The mood was just right for us. If you’re dancing for fun, not trying to smother your partner or using the dance as foreplay, you give your partner some room and go with the music.
The waitress brought fresh drinks. I tipped her again, we danced again, and again. Around two, Swede played his theme song.
The theme song, of course, is “Wagon Wheels.” I hope you know that song, and if not, your parents and grandparents do. Wagon wheels, wagon wheels, keep on a turnin’ wagon wheels.… It evokes endless prairies, loneliness, but bravery and determination. That song has always struck me as appropriate for Fairbanks because if there weren’t people with more bravery, guts, and determination than good sense, Fairbanks wouldn’t exist. Wagon wheels, carry me ho-oo-ome, then, very softly, wagon wheels, carry me home. Swede shut down the organ.
House lights came up full and people scrambled out as if the lights were a cold shower. We sank down at the table and drained our glasses.
“Want to take me back to the hotel, Alex? I may be catching jet lag.”
“Nonsense, the party is just starting. Help me stand up and I’ll show you some real music and dancing.”
Chapter Ten
Come what may, time and the hour run through the roughest night . We gave up trying to appease hangovers with decaffeinated coffee at the Maranatha, and I braved the morning sunlight in search of a phone. No telephone in the room, of course, no doubt because it might disturb our meditation. I
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