Bones(31)

“Hi, people,” Wanda said when we got over there. She beamed at us from under a pair of false eyelashes as big as daddy longlegs and fluffed her gaudy yellow hair and stuck out her chest the way she does, as if anybody but a blind person could miss seeing it. “Say, that's a real cute dress, Kerry. You didn't get that dress at Macy's, did you?”

“No, I didn't.”

“Gee, it looks just like one we had on sale last week in the bargain basement.”

Kerry smiled with her teeth, like a wolf smiling at a piece of meat, and sat down. There was a carafe of red wine on the table; she picked it up immediately and poured herself a full glass, which she proceeded to sip in a determined way.

I said something to Eberhardt by way of greeting, but he didn't answer. As usual, all his attention was focused on Wanda's chest. Tonight the chest was encased in a white silk blouse with the top three buttons undone, so that most of it, very white and bulging, was visible to the naked eye. Eberhardt's naked eye was full of gleams and glints; I felt like leaning over and telling him to wipe the drool off his chin.

As soon as we were settled, Wanda set the tone for the evening by telling a pair of jokes. Wanda liked to tell jokes, most of which were dumb and a few of which were in bad taste. Sort of like a female Bob Hope.

Wanda: “What's the definition of foreplay in a Jewish marriage?”

Eberhardt: “I dunno, what?”

Wanda: “Thirty minutes of begging.”

Eberhardt broke up. I managed a polite chuckle. Kerry just sat there sipping her wine.

Wanda (giggling): “So what's foreplay in an Italian marriage?”

Eberhardt: “I dunno, what?”

Wanda: “Guy nudges his wife and says, ‘Hey, you ready?’”

Eberhardt broke up again. I managed a polite smile this time, without the chuckle. Kerry just sat there sipping her wine.

“I hear lots of jokes like that down at Macy's,” Wanda said. “I could tell jokes like that all night long.”

Kerry rolled her eyes and gnashed her teeth a little. Neither Wanda nor Eberhardt noticed. Wanda was still giggling and he was watching her chest and grinning fatuously.

The waiter finally showed up with some menus. He was an older Italian guy dressed up in a shiny, rumpled tuxedo that looked as if it belonged on a corpse. He had a long, sad, creased face, ears that had big tufts of hair growing out of them, and a toupee so false and loose-fitting that it invited my attention the way Wanda's chest invited Eberhardt's. Every time the waiter leaned over the table, the hairpiece moved a little like something alive that was clinging evilly to the top of his head. If he had heard Wanda's dumb Jewish and Italian jokes, he gave no indication of it. Nor did he bother to adjust his hair. Either he didn't notice it was so loose or he had a lot more faith in its ability to stay put than I did.

He went away and Wanda told us about her day at Macy's. Then she told us another dumb joke. Then she lit up a Tareyton and blew smoke that made Kerry cough and glare and pour more wine. Eberhardt stared at Wanda's chest, still looking both fatuous and horny. I didn't say much. Kerry didn't say anything at all.

The waiter brought us a loaf of bread. I would have eaten some of it, because I was hungry, but if I'd tried I would have broken every tooth in my mouth. It was so old and so hard you couldn't have cut it with a hatchet, much less a knife. It had gone beyond bread and become a whole new and powerful substance. It ought to have been donated to the Giants for use as a fungo bat.

Wanda told us about one of her ex-husbands, the one who had driven a garbage truck; she had two or three, I'm not sure which. One of the things she told us was a long and involved anecdote about his underwear that had no point and wasn't funny but that she concluded with a shriek of laughter so shrill I thought it might shatter the water glasses.

Nobody else came into the place—fortunately for them.

The waiter again, this time to take our orders. I decided his hairpiece looked even more like a spider than Wanda's false eyelashes—a deformed and wicked spider. I almost said, “I'll have the spider, please.” Instead I said, “I'll have the scallopini, please.” Eberhardt and Wanda both ordered the veal piccata because Wanda said, “They really know how to do it here, Ebbie, you never tasted veal like this before, believe me.”

I believed her.

Kerry said, “I'm not very hungry. I guess I'll just have a small salad.”

“What's the matter, honey?” Wanda asked her. “Don't you like Italian food?”

“Yes,” Kerry said, “but we ate Italian last night. And I'm just not very hungry.”

“You sick or something? Getting your period? Sometimes I don't feel like eating much when I'm getting mine.”