The Gilded Age, a Time Travel by Lisa Mason

Author:Lisa Mason [Mason, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B005QUIWDQ
Publisher: Bast Books
Published: 2011-09-29T04:00:00+00:00

8

A Miraculous Cure at Dr. Mortimer’s Clinic

“To Death,” Daniel toasts Mr. Schultz, “in marvelous Californ’.”

“Mira muerta, no seas inhumana, no vuelvas manana dejame vivir,” croons the singer through his grinning papier-mache skull mask. Ricardo, the one-eyed guitarist, dreamily strums along.

“To el Dia de los Muertos,” Schultz says, raising his shot glass. “Sehr gut, nicht wahr? Speaking of muertos, Danny, got myself in a bit of a fix.”

“A matter of life or death?”

“You might say.”

Daniel pours two more shots from a dust-furred bottle of mescal, smiling at the drowned worm at the bottom. Authentic, all right, this splendid rotgut with the disconcerting effect of making everything appear as ominous and strange as a nightmare. A more decadent drink than the Green Fairy, if such a thing is possible. And, like absinthe, the taste is vile.

He and Schultz lounge at a table in Luna’s, finishing their fifty-cent Suppers Mexican. Frank Norris’s recommendation amply deserved. The restaurant is quaint, with bright peasant pottery, dried gourds, silver trinkets, and red-and-white checked tablecloths. The singer’s skull mask is quite a fright, though Daniel’s dyspepsia is mostly caused by the Supper Mexican. Remains of their scorching hot dinner lie scattered in the colorful crockery—spicy pork sausages, tortillas, chiles rellenos, frijoles fritas, salsa, sweet tamales. Daniel could never have dined on such a fine feast in Saint Louis. Or in Paris or London. Only in marvelous Californ’.

Schultz sighs and knocks the shot back, licking salt off the rim of his glass. “I’ve been given the boot.”

“Things crummy in Far East shipping?”

“Things are bang-up in Far East shipping, just not so bang-up for me.” Schultz pours himself another shot. Just a small one.

Daniel’s tongue has become quite numb. “Why so, old man? You seem to have been doing well enough. Plum position and all.”

“Can’t control the drink, and that’s the truth of it. God knows I’ve tried. You and I, we start in on the brandy at breakfast.”

“Don’t I know it, sir,” Daniel says. “Not to mention Miss Malone and her accursed champagne.”

“She’s forever pouring me another and adding it to my bill.”

“Brushes her teeth with the bubbly.”

“At any rate,” Schultz says gloomily, “showed up corned at the office one time too many. Not that the old man doesn’t do it himself. He just manages to hold his liquor better, is all.”

“Plus he’s the old man.”

“Guess we’ve all got an old man somewhere.”

“By blood or bad luck.”

They laugh unhappily.

“Lousy bit, Schultz.”

“At any rate.” Schultz’s mustache stiffens. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any paying work for hire, do you, Danny? Help out a pal? I’m not asking for a handout, you know. I’m no beggar.”

“Wish I did.”

“You just sold that property of your vater, though, didn’t you?”

“It was only a patch of worthless weeds way out on Geary Street. Nothing much going on out there in the Western Addition, and I daresay that will be the fate of it for some time. The other lot has got no takers, and the rest of the deadbeats are giving me grief. That old fool Ekberg on Stockton Street has stalled me for weeks.

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