“Normally, I’d take you around to the back,” the man in the tails said, “but under the circumstances …” He nodded toward the two elderly women, who were paying no attention to them at all. “They wouldn’t notice if a train went through here, once they’d had their third round. If we begin to fill up while you’re at lunch, I’ll take you out the other way. We do try to accommodate our patrons’ need for discretion.”
Gregor didn’t comment on the man’s use of the word “discretion”—which, in its obviousness, was even worse than the “secret” door. He just went through into the back room and let the man come in behind him. The room was smaller than the dining room outside and had nothing in it but booths, each fitted into the wall behind heavy velvet curtains that could be drawn on shiny corded ropes. All of these curtains were now open, and all the booths but one were empty. A tall man, not Jimmy Card, stood up in the one occupied booth and then slid out into the room. A second later, Jimmy Card followed him, as if he’d been waiting for the signal that would tell him nobody was coming in he didn’t want to see.
“Very good,” the man in the tails said. “I’ll send your waiter in a moment. I hope you have an enjoyable meal, gentlemen.”
They all murmured incoherent things, and the man in tails bobbed solemnly and “withdrew,” walking backward all the way until he reached the “secret” door, as if he were dealing with royalty and in a distinctly outdated fashion.
Gregor waited until the door was firmly shut and they were alone and then said, “When I was in the army, I went to a place like this in New Orleans. Rich men would bring high-class call girls there for dinner, and they’d have the curtains so that they’d be safely out of sight if their wives came looking for them.”
“Ha,” Jimmy Card said.
“Why didn’t the wives just draw back the curtains?” the tall man said.
“Maybe they did. Or maybe they just had sense enough to stay home. I never saw a run-in with a wife.” Gregor looked Jimmy Card up and down, but he looked no different in person than he did on television: a short, dark, trim man just beginning to flesh out with middle age, the kind of man who worked out to stay in shape, but didn’t work out enough to stay in perfect shape. For some reason, Gregor found that comforting.
“I’m Gregor Demarkian,” he said.
“We recognized you from People,” the tall man said. “Or at least, I did—”
“Of course I recognized him,” Jimmy Card said. “What do you take me for?”
“You say you never read People,” the tall man said.
“I watch the news. I read the papers. Give me a break.”
“I’m Bob Haverton,” the tall man said. “I’m Jimmy’s lawyer. It used to be a full-time job.”
“Used to be?” Gregor said.
“Bob’s of the opinion that Liz has mellowed me out,” Jimmy Card said. “I keep telling him he’s got it backward. It’s not that Liz mellowed me out. It’s that I mellowed out and that got me together with Liz.”
“At least she isn’t likely to try to use the divorce courts to turn you into a financial basket case. Jimmy used to have that short ethnic guy’s insecurity thing with women. He could only marry tall upper-middle-class WASP blondes. He just couldn’t get it through his head that they always marry for money.”
“Oh,” Gregor said.
“You’re going to make Mr. Demarkian think you’re a bigot,” Jimmy said.
“I’m a realist,” Bob Haverton said. “My own sister is a tall upper-middle-class WASP blonde, although hardly in the same league with either of Jimmy’s wives. One of the perks of being a pop star is that you get to marry the kind of women who show up on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. And Jimmy did. Twice.”
“Right now, I’d like to marry a short brunette,” Jimmy said, “except that she keeps saying no and now she’s trying to go off and commit suicide, which is why we’re here. We do have a reason why we’re here. Maybe we should all sit down and discuss it.”
“Maybe we should find another restaurant,” Bob said. “You know the food in this place is going to be god-awful.”
“If we find another restaurant, we’ll be photographed,” Jimmy said. He looked around. The room really was awful. The food really would probably be worse. “At least let’s sit down and discuss this and see if we can come to some kind of arrangement. It will all come out eventually. I’m just hoping to give Mr. Demarkian a head start. Sit.”