Lucky Strikes by Louis Bayard

Author:Louis Bayard
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781627793919
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

Chapter

SIXTEEN

On the drive home, Janey was still peeling that damn movie open.

“So where did the English nurse go?” she said. “First she kisses Dr. Gable, then she goes away, then she comes back sick as a dog. What from?”

“Dr. Gable just needed something to feel bad about,” said Hiram.

“But he tried to save her.”

“I’d save her,” said Earle. “I’d save her but good.”

Hiram thought that was funny.

“Dr. Gable’s got big ears,” said Janey.

“Always has,” said Hiram.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I mean he had them the one time I met him, and that was, oh, nine or ten years ago.”

Janey set up in her seat. “You knew Clark Gable?”

“Well, I met him is all. When he was still trying to break into the business.”

Earle was sitting up now. “You was out in Hollywood?”

“For a time.”

“Was you in pictures?” asked Janey.

“In them, no. Once they got a load of my lazy eye—well, that’ll pass on the stage but not on the screen. So I became a scenarist.”

“What in tarnation is that?”

“Why, he’s the fellow that writes the thing. The dialogue and the situations and so forth.”

“You wrote movies?”

“For a bit.”

“And ads, too,” I said. “And sold hats. Ain’t no limit to Daddy Hiram.”

The truck got quiet.

“Lord,” said Janey.

“What climbed up your ass?” said Earle.

Well, I didn’t say nothing right off, but soon as we got home, I told those two young ’uns they could pack it right in.

“How come?” said Earle.

“So I can speak with Daddy Hiram.”

“On what subject?”

“The subject of how I’m about to tan your hide.”

They was still fearful slow about going. Zigging and zagging and circling. But I stared ’em down till they was inside. Hiram, he just leaned back against the truck, fishing in his pockets for a Zippo.

“There a problem?” he said.

“Not unless you count being shamed by Frances Bean.”

“Shamed how?”

“On account of you courtin’ a crazy old maid.”

He lit himself a Lucky, took his sweet time with the first draw.

“Miss Ida Folsom,” he said, “is one of the more balanced specimens I’ve met in my lifetime. As for being an old maid, I believe she has herself a husband somewhere.”

“And you got a wife in the ground. Who you’re supposed to be grieving on.”

He smoked a while longer.

“Only I don’t have a wife in the ground. I thought we understood that. All I’m supposed to do is tell people I’m your father.”

“Well, how are they gonna believe you if you don’t act like it?”

“So you want me to pretend to be torn up over a woman I’ve never met? Just how am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe Clark Gable can help you out.”

He studied me. “So I’m not even allowed to have a past anymore, is that what you’re telling me? I’ve got to erase my whole history.”

“All I’m asking is—show some respect, that’s all. A little goddamn respect. Even if you never did meet my mama. ‘Cause I’m telling you if you had…”

My eyes was stinging, so I cut them toward the house.

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