Fifty-Boy
26
Like No Place I'd Ever Been
I saw Bernhardt in the breezeway greeting guests. The parking lot looked clear so I went outside. We started talking and I asked him how hard it was to find a job or housing in the area. I was trying to be cool and not look like I was in a panic.
We were standing under the canopy when an attractive woman in a Mercedes convertible pulled up to the curb. Bernhardt said, "Rota, this is my friend, Jake I've been telling you about. Guess what? He's looking for a job and a place to live, maybe?"
She said, "Really? You think he'll do?" She had the accent too.
Rota was a woman in her early forties, or a little younger, who had that same something going on as Molly when it came to men, that Molly-effect I could never explain...
Just the way her thighs came together where her skirt rode up, the way her feet made her sandals look like wrapping on candy, the casual invitation in her posture, the way her shoulders tilted toward you, the golden hair, the definition in the upper regions of her bare brown arms, her wrists, the golden bracelets, teeth - off the chart white, the mouth, the voice, the avocado eyes...She had a flight bag on the seat.
I was staring at Rota, Bernhardt was telling me something about paradise...
...Jones, Edzel Eeebie Jones, the name on the flight bag of the wiseass stewardness, the one who called herself Junior, who told me to sit up straight in my seat and wanted a piece of my gum, she must've been a relatiave of Wanamaker Jones. She had the same blue eyes... Major Blue's cousin... That's how they found me. That's why my Philly dodge in Love Park didn't work."Jake, "Bernhardt said, his accent a little stronger. "'Dis is my wife, Rota, she who causes turmoil. Odin's favorite Valkyrie."
I said, "Freut mich. Glad to meet you." And I was.
She smiled at her husband and said, "Oh, he speaks German too? Maybe this one won't run away when he sees our little paradise. See if you can get him to come, Bernie."
She went to park the car and Bernhardt asked if I'd seen my big friend from Atlantic City.
I said, "Bernhardt, I ain't gonna' lie to you. He's not my friend. I owe that man five thousand dollars, well, actually his boss. I'd rather not see him."
He looked at me for a minute and said, "I'll take care of it for you. You going for your usual stroll?"
"Yes."
"Where will you be?"
"Kind of far."
"I'll do me good."
"You gonna' go now?" He nodded toward a pale blue BMW across the lot with Jersey tags.
"They asked me where's Indian Rocks Beach, and asked me to get them an SUV rental about an hour ago."
"An hour ago... Okay... I guess Ich spazsieren gehen."
"I'll bring your bags to Frenchy's. You go for your walk... And stick to English."
I went home with them that night for dinner, just to talk things over. They lived in a place called Eden. I was like no place I'd ever been.
I guess they knew I wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
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