Shmucks (12 page)

Fantastic, he thought. Just like a peep show, only free. He had been to a peep show only once in his life and had found it more amusing than sexy.

He had gone to a real estate convention in Los Angeles and been invited to a show by some associates there. They had dragged him off to a club in the Mexican area of the city. There on a small stage a girl had performed her act.

For her first number she had inserted a bicycle horn between her legs and made it go beep-beep by constricting her vaginal muscles. After that she had placed a hard-boiled egg in her vagina and, again demonstrating her extraordinary muscle control, had ejected it ten feet in front of her into Levin's lap. For her final trick she had placed five pennies inside her orifice and released them one at a time into a tin cup which she held under her. That had been funny but now, watching the lady in the window, he felt horny.

He was pressed against the girl who neither leaned back against him nor recoiled from him in the slightest. Levin could see that she was watching the naked woman in a bemused fashion. He suddenly felt a sensation which seemed to come out of the distant past. It was a feeling of romantic excitement.

“She has quite a nice body, doesn't she?” the girl asked, still staring straight out the window.

“Not bad,” Levin replied.

“She sure has a big pair of cans,” the girl said.

“I've seen bigger.”

“She probably knows half the neighborhood is watching her,” the girl continued.

Levin pushed himself over to the left side window and looked up at the building opposite the one where the naked lady was exhibiting herself. He could make out figures on various balconies. They were all standing back in the shadows. He could see the occasional glow of a cigarette on a balcony or in a window. He turned back to the girl.

“She's gone back in,” Margie said. “Some chicks will do anything to attract attention.”

“Uh huh,” Levin agreed, shrugging. He leaned forward, extracted the tape from the deck and inserted another one.

They sat quietly for a little while listening to the music. After a while the girl turned towards Levin. “Do you feel like fooling around a bit?” she asked half coyly.

Caught off guard, Levin replied, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know,” she shrugged. “Just fool around.”

“Oh,” Levin said as though suddenly understanding. He tried to get rid of the look of surprise which he knew was still showing on his face.

“I mean, if you feel like balling or something, that's okay.”

“Hmm . . . hmmm,” Levin muttered, nodding his head slowly.

“I mean it,” Margie continued. “Like, I really like you.”

“Hmmm.” Levin was still nodding his head. He was almost completely befuddled. He was definitely horny but for some reason he was suddenly very reluctant to take the girl up on her offer.

“I guess you're probably married or something.” She said this more as a question than a statement.

On past occasions, when asked about his marital status, he often lied and said he was married. He knew the idea of a relationship with a married man appealed to a certain type of female. To others, he had told the truth, sensing that they would be against getting involved with a married man. Now, with Margie, he realized it wouldn't matter one way or the other. It took a certain pressure off a person, he thought.

“No, I'm not married. I was, but I'm divorced now.”

“Oh, that's great. That's less of a hassle.”

Levin stared at her trying to smile coolly but not feeling very cool at all. He was angry with himself. He looked at Margie. She seemed even younger now. She was probably no more than twelve. If he got caught with her, he'd be in a big trouble. He needed that like he needed a hole in the head. But he knew it wasn't the fear of the law which was holding him back. There was a sensation of guilt floating around somewhere in his head.

The girl moved over towards Levin so that one of her breasts pressed against his elbow. Levin laughed a short patronizing laugh.

“I really feel like balling,” the girl said. “How about you? You feel like balling?”

“I don't know if this is the best place for it,” Levin replied, feeling his voice quaver and almost crack.

“I dig to ball in a lane. I never made it in a car.”

An image of Levin's daughter appeared in his mind. She was only a few years younger than this girl. In a few years, would she be doing the same thing?

He cursed the sensation of restraint which continued to bother him. He knew it was stupid, his own particular hangup, but he couldn't help feeling that there was something wrong about taking the girl up on her offer.

“We can jump in the back seat,” Margie said. “No one will see us.”

“Well . . . I dunno. I could really get busted if the cops came by.”

The girl shrugged as though admitting that Levin was right.

“Maybe after we get out of here we can go to my place,” Levin said. Maybe later, he thought, he would forget his moralistic hangup.

“I've got to go to work later on,” the girl replied.

Levin didn't know what to say but finally replied, “Well, we'll figure something out.”

After a few moments, the girl said meekly, “You sure you don't want to ball now?”

“I really don't think it's a very good setup here in this lane.”

“I guess you're sort of right.”

Levin now sensed a lost air about the girl, as though she wanted him to look after her. She turned away and stared out the window.

“I'm going to come and visit you tomorrow,” the girl said, turning back towards Levin.

“Yeah, okay,” Levin replied somewhat hesitantly.

“Could you give me your address?” Margie asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Levin pulled a note pad out of his jacket and jotted down his address.

The girl looked at it, and put it in the pocket of her slacks. “I think I'd better go now.”

“Okay.”

“I'm going to come by tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Levin said.

She opened the door and got out. “I'll see you.”

“Okay. Thanks for keeping me company and everything.”

“I enjoyed it,” Margie replied.

“So did I.”

“Well . . . I'll see ya,” Margie said.

“Yeah. I'll see ya,” Levin answered.

The girl waved as she walked away down the lane. Levin waved back and watched her till she was out of sight. He lit a cigarette.

What kind of shmuck am I? he wondered. First I try desperately to get one girl into the back seat and I fail; then a girl tries to get me into the back seat and I refuse. He leaned his head out the window. His eye caught sight of the scattered mail lying on the ground where he had thrown it. He got out, gathered it up, tossed it all back onto the seat and jumped in.

He looked up the lane at the taxi. He still couldn't figure out what the driver was up to. He looked down at the mail. He picked up those letters which he had read previously and scanned them quickly once more. Just once he ought to reply to some of his tenants the way he really wanted. It would give him so much satisfaction.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. On several occasions when trapped on the phone by some obnoxiously talkative tenant, he had been tempted to place the receiver on the desk and go downstairs for a coffee. He was sure that in most cases he would return to find the tenant still talking, unaware that he had been gone.

Once he had almost done that with Mrs. Forrester, but he hadn't had the guts to go through with it. Just once they ought to have a taste of their own medicine, he thought. It was a really good idea.

Levin reached into the back seat for the dictating unit. He started it up and said, “Irene, this letter to Mrs. Dolly Mendelsohn at the Grosvenor Arms.” He paused, relishing the flow of words which he was about to unleash.

Dear Mrs. Mendelsohn:

You are so full of shit it's coming out of your ears. Why don't you stop bugging the poor cocksucker in apartment A-10. What's the matter, is he getting you uptight? You want maybe he should give you a taste of dick? Maybe that's it. Maybe a good shtupp would calm you down and put some sense into your head. He looks like the type of guy who likes to eat beaver; maybe he could try a little of that on you.

So his dog craps in the elevator, or pisses in the elevator. Big deal; if I'm not worried why should you be? And besides, how do you know? What do you do–follow him around all day? If you really want me to do something concrete about it, you'll have to show me proof. Could you get a picture of the dog crapping? This would help. Then I'd have something to go on. I mean I can't stop a dog from crapping in the elevator just on your say so. How would you feel if you were doing it and I asked you to cut it out? Imagine how you'd feel. You'd be pretty upset, right?

Very truly yours,

P.S. Please give my best regards to your daughter. I think I mean the younger one. I forget her name. You know which one I mean–the nymphomaniac.

Levin clicked the off button. It was a great letter. He could hardly wait to see it in print and sign his name to it. His secretary wouldn't believe it. He clicked the unit on again. “To Miss Faith Halter at the Grosvenor.”

Dear Miss Halter:

Thank you for your letter of July 10 wherein you accuse the plumber of having used your toothbrush.

At first I thought you might have been mistaken, but now I have pretty definite proof that you were indeed right. Yesterday all of the plumber's teeth fell out and the doctors say that he is suffering from some strange venereal disease which normally affects only horses. I therefore apologize for his actions. It won't happen again.

Very truly yours,

P.S. How are the riding lessons coming along?

As he finished the letter, Levin began chuckling. To see the faces of these ladies when they received their letters would be worth a week's salary. Of course, he'd probably be out of a job within a week.

Levin was still chuckling when he became aware of a light flashing somewhere behind him in the lane. He spun around and saw a vehicle heading quickly down the alley. For a moment, he thought it might be a police car. He sighed with relief. Now he would be able to go home without having to lose face.

The vehicle sped towards Levin's car and screeched to a halt a few feet behind. Levin saw that it was an ambulance. The driver honked the horn several times in quick succession.

Levin didn't move. “They didn't have their bloody siren on. They can't be on an emergency,” he said half aloud.

The ambulance driver honked again. Levin motioned with his hands that he couldn't move. The driver got out of the ambulance and began walking towards his car. As he approached the window, Levin observed that he was a burly-looking man.

“Hey, are you blind or something? Can't you see this is a goddamn ambulance.”

Levin didn't like the man's attitude. “Yeah, I see. What about it?”

“Didn't you see the light flashing?”

“Yeah, I saw it. Are you on an emergency or something?”

“Well, what d'you think?”

“With you guys who knows,” Levin said matter-of-factly.

“What d'you mean by that?”

“I mean you could just as well be coming down this alley with your light flashing to take a piss.”

“We don't do that,” the man said angrily.

“No? What about that little incident I read about in the papers last week?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, those two attendants from the General Hospital. They were supposed to be taking this crazy lady from the General to the Verdun nut house, and they stopped to throw a few quickies into her in the ambulance!”

The man shrugged sheepishly. “We don't do that kind of stuff.”

“Well, what kind of emergency are you on?”

The man hesitated for a moment, then suddenly unable to control himself shouted, “None of your fucking business.” He turned and walked back to the ambulance.

Levin stuck his head out the window and yelled, “Throw one into her for me too, shmuck.”

The ambulance attendant stuck his middle finger into the air. Levin jumped out of the car and flung his right fist upwards, simultaneously slamming his left hand down against his right bicep.

The ambulance screeched backwards down the lane, spun around onto Peel, and disappeared.

Levin stood beside his car, attracted by the motor noise coming from the taxi. He couldn't figure it out. What possible reason could the man have for jacking his car up and spinning the rear wheels at what sounded like high speed.

He shook his head and got back into the car.

CHAPTER 15

PELZIC WAS DREAMING
that he was driving along St. Catherine Street. It was early in the morning and there were very few cars on the road. A car had pulled out of Drummond Street and was now tailgating him. Pelzic smiled to himself. He'd teach the fool a lesson. He accelerated up to 45 m.p.h. The other car continued to tailgate. Pelzic looked in the rearview mirror and estimated the other car to be less than five feet behind him. This could be good, Pelzic thought to himself. The whiplash alone could be worth a few thousand not to mention what he could collect on the car. Slouching down low in his seat, he set himself for the shock and slammed on the brakes. Suddenly he found himself awake in the taxi, with his right foot pressing down hard on the brake pedal. The sudden braking sent the taxi off the jack and the car dropped heavily to the ground. Both rear tires blew out from the impact. Pelzic now remembered where he was.

Outside, a window opened and the same voice which had shouted earlier roared into the night again, “Okay, goddamn it, that's it. Now I'm coming down to shut you up.” The window slammed.

“Fock you,” Pelzic screamed in a rage. Pelzic grabbed hold of the steering wheel. He was on the verge of tears. Why didn't anything work out? Why? Why? Now he couldn't leave even if he wanted to. He had only one spare. He'd be lucky if it was only the tires. From the way the car had fallen it would be a miracle if the axle hadn't broken as well. He looked at the meter. It read $6.25. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. It would cost him at least that to fix the tires. He slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. It cracked and a thin seam opened halfway around its circumference. He could feel a sob almost breaking out of his chest. He wanted to hit something, to break something . . . preferably something that belonged to someone else. He looked into the back seat. The millionaire was lying there in a deep sleep. Pelzic stared down at him. The man was resting there, peacefully oblivious to Pelzic's predicament. It wasn't fair.