Free Icarus. by Russell Andrews Page A
Authors: Russell Andrews
Should I come to the house or the restaurant?"
"Restaurant. I'll still be there. And you know you have a meeting with the Beauferme vineyard guy at five-thirty tonight," she said. "He wants to sell you a new Rhone."
"Oh, Christ. I forgot."
"Write it down."
"He's going to want me to drink with him and I'm going to have to argue with him-"
"Write it down, please."
"You know I don't taste wine that way. I don't drink with the salesmen. I drink it with dinner, the way you're supposed to drink it."
"Write it down and stop whining. Or wining…"
"Very funny."
"… as the case may be."
"Even funnier."
"Write it down." And during the pause, as he made a face at the phone and waved his hand in the air, pretending to write down the information, she said, "Jack, don't just make faces and humor me. Write it down."
"I'll never understand how you do that," he said. "But it kind of steams me."
"Oh," she said. "Will you bring the hunting rifle? I want to go shooting tomorrow."
"It's here?"
"In the foyer closet. I brought it back to be realigned."
"This ain't what I thought romance would be – 'Yes, darling, I'll bring your rifle.'"
"Don't forget," she said.
"I'm writing it down," he said, and again he moved his fingers in the air.
"Go to work."
"Sleep well," he told her and then they hung up.
The next few minutes were as always: a trip to the kitchen to put the coffee on, a quick shower, a few moments to throw-on a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater-shirt, back to the kitchen to pour a large mug of coffee, then a few steps over to the enormous wraparound balcony to sit – not too close to the rail, never too close to the rail – and sip the hot liquid, looking out, from on high, at the lights of the city caught in the fading night and rising dawn.
Jack took a deep breath, a satisfied breath, then left the terrace and walked into the elevator that opened up straight into his apartment foyer and took him down to the garage in the basement of his building. He slid into the driver's seat of his four-door, gleaming black Beamer, maneuvered out of the tight parking space, drove up the steep incline that led to the middle of East Seventy-seventh Street, then headed south on Fifth Avenue.
Manhattan was still asleep and there was a faint, predawn chill to the air as Jack's day began. He loved that chill, never failed to appreciate it when it hit him each morn. It made him shiver and come alive and thrill to the edge of the city-It reminded him, every single day, how much he liked that life, despite the ghosts that still haunted its edges. The life that he and Caroline had fought for, and worked for, and carved out for each other.
The life that, in one more day, when the Virginia restaurant opened, would shatter and change forever.
FIVE
There it was.
Touch it. Hold it. Make sure it was real. Yes. Oh, yes. Very, very real. It was the key to everything, this little card. To the future. To the good life. To love and money and respect. To everything the two of them had always wanted.
To everything they were in danger of losing. But now they didn't have to lose it. Any of it. Here it was and she had done it for them. Arranged it all.
Did she even know what she was doing? Maybe. Hard to know. Hard to know anything.
Except there was nothing else to know. They had what they needed.
THE GOVERNOR OF VIRGINIA
THE MAYOR OF CHARLOTTESVILLE
THE STAFF OF JACK'S
Invite you to the biggest off-Broadway opening of the year
OPENING NIGHT OF
JACK'S-CHARLOTTESVILLE
ADDRESS: CORNER OF DIVISION ST. amp; EAST ST.
DATE: APRIL 1
TIME: 7 P.M. UNTIL CLOSING
DRESS: CASUAL ELEGANT
We're thanking you for welcoming us…
The invitation seemed to get larger, growing all by itself, and it took on a surreal glow. It was indeed a magical thing. It was a solution to all their problems. A ticket to a beautiful new world.
And in this world… well… it knew the truth there, too. It most certainly
"Restaurant. I'll still be there. And you know you have a meeting with the Beauferme vineyard guy at five-thirty tonight," she said. "He wants to sell you a new Rhone."
"Oh, Christ. I forgot."
"Write it down."
"He's going to want me to drink with him and I'm going to have to argue with him-"
"Write it down, please."
"You know I don't taste wine that way. I don't drink with the salesmen. I drink it with dinner, the way you're supposed to drink it."
"Write it down and stop whining. Or wining…"
"Very funny."
"… as the case may be."
"Even funnier."
"Write it down." And during the pause, as he made a face at the phone and waved his hand in the air, pretending to write down the information, she said, "Jack, don't just make faces and humor me. Write it down."
"I'll never understand how you do that," he said. "But it kind of steams me."
"Oh," she said. "Will you bring the hunting rifle? I want to go shooting tomorrow."
"It's here?"
"In the foyer closet. I brought it back to be realigned."
"This ain't what I thought romance would be – 'Yes, darling, I'll bring your rifle.'"
"Don't forget," she said.
"I'm writing it down," he said, and again he moved his fingers in the air.
"Go to work."
"Sleep well," he told her and then they hung up.
The next few minutes were as always: a trip to the kitchen to put the coffee on, a quick shower, a few moments to throw-on a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater-shirt, back to the kitchen to pour a large mug of coffee, then a few steps over to the enormous wraparound balcony to sit – not too close to the rail, never too close to the rail – and sip the hot liquid, looking out, from on high, at the lights of the city caught in the fading night and rising dawn.
Jack took a deep breath, a satisfied breath, then left the terrace and walked into the elevator that opened up straight into his apartment foyer and took him down to the garage in the basement of his building. He slid into the driver's seat of his four-door, gleaming black Beamer, maneuvered out of the tight parking space, drove up the steep incline that led to the middle of East Seventy-seventh Street, then headed south on Fifth Avenue.
Manhattan was still asleep and there was a faint, predawn chill to the air as Jack's day began. He loved that chill, never failed to appreciate it when it hit him each morn. It made him shiver and come alive and thrill to the edge of the city-It reminded him, every single day, how much he liked that life, despite the ghosts that still haunted its edges. The life that he and Caroline had fought for, and worked for, and carved out for each other.
The life that, in one more day, when the Virginia restaurant opened, would shatter and change forever.
FIVE
There it was.
Touch it. Hold it. Make sure it was real. Yes. Oh, yes. Very, very real. It was the key to everything, this little card. To the future. To the good life. To love and money and respect. To everything the two of them had always wanted.
To everything they were in danger of losing. But now they didn't have to lose it. Any of it. Here it was and she had done it for them. Arranged it all.
Did she even know what she was doing? Maybe. Hard to know. Hard to know anything.
Except there was nothing else to know. They had what they needed.
THE GOVERNOR OF VIRGINIA
THE MAYOR OF CHARLOTTESVILLE
THE STAFF OF JACK'S
Invite you to the biggest off-Broadway opening of the year
OPENING NIGHT OF
JACK'S-CHARLOTTESVILLE
ADDRESS: CORNER OF DIVISION ST. amp; EAST ST.
DATE: APRIL 1
TIME: 7 P.M. UNTIL CLOSING
DRESS: CASUAL ELEGANT
We're thanking you for welcoming us…
The invitation seemed to get larger, growing all by itself, and it took on a surreal glow. It was indeed a magical thing. It was a solution to all their problems. A ticket to a beautiful new world.
And in this world… well… it knew the truth there, too. It most certainly
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