The Long Nap ...continued Part III

 Part III Continued ....

The Conservatory lay at the end of a long dim hall.  Gunter pushed open two heavy wooden doors like Moses parting the Red Sea.  A blast of heat and light hit me like a sucker punch from a 300 pound gorilla.  There were plants and vines everywhere.  The place looked like it was designed by Better Homes and Jungle.  Turns out that ‘conservatory’ is just a rich way of saying ‘greenhouse’ like “venereal disease” instead of the “clap.” 

There was a shady spot to the left clear of all the greenery.  The General sat there in a wheelchair like FDR minus the cigarette and jaunty smile.  He was bundled up like a squealing newborn, just not looking that “new.” His eyes followed me into the room.  He motioned with is right hand to a rattan chair which Gunter was already pushing up behind me.  I turned to Gunter briefly glancing at that tube in his coat pocket with a look that said “I ain’t your date.”  He casually pushed the tube out of sight with a very slight smile.  The General nodded to Gunter and then cleared his voice. 

 “Please, get some refreshments, Gunter?”

Gunter started to turn to go, but not before trying to take my hat.

I held on to it like a tom cat on his way to the spay and neuter clinic.  The more I pulled the more he pulled.  It was like a tug of war.

The General called the armistice. “That’s alright, Gunter.  Mr. Merlot can take care of own his hat.  Now please see to the refreshments.”

 Gunter let go reluctantly with that faint smile, nodded and then took off like a puppy after a stick,”

I ran my hand on the inside of my hat and set it next to me in the big chair.   I settled into the cushions like they were a box of Campfire Marshmallows.  I looked at the General and asked; “Is he always that efficient.”

The General smiled. “You’ll have to forgive Gunter.  It the Hessian in him.”

I thought to myself: “I’m not sure what was in him, but I was pretty sure they weren’t called Hessians.”

“I found him at the back lines on the staff of a German Senior officer during the war.”

I blurted out “Bingo.”

“I beg your pardon.”  The General asked.

 “Oh nothing, please go on.”

“Well I was so impressed with his abilities to organize and attend to so many different affairs at once that I offered him a position.  He accepted and has been an invaluable manservant ever since.  I suppose the Hessian in him is what makes him so efficient.  After my wife, Reagan, left Gunter started handling my business at home.  Not that it’s very hard any more.  Still it’s good to have Gunter around.  No one gets to the bottom of things like Gunter.”

I shook the pictures that were starting to form out of my head took out a handkerchief and padded my brow and the back of my neck.  I could not help wondering who in their right mind builds a glass oven in Los Angeles?  The General noticed my mopping the sweat.

“Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Merlot. Well, as comfortable as you can in this humidor.  You may loosen your tie and take off your jacket if you wish.”

I slipped off my jacket and pulled at the knot that was garroting me.  “Thanks” 

I took out a pack of Chesterfields and offered one to the General who simply shook his head.

“Please enjoy yourself. Mr. Merlot.”

I pulled one out and lit up and exhale.  The General sniffed the air like a hound dog trailing the scent.  He closed his eyes for a moment like remembering an old flame.

 “It’s a sorry day when one goes from smoking cigars to being one, Mr. Merlot. The only thing left is turning into the eventual ashes.  I trust I didn’t keeping you waiting too long.” 

“That’s alright, General.  I was entertained.” I smiled then noticed he pulled back into his chair at my comment.

He wringed his hands a little, looked off to the side and then back again at me.  “I see you met, Wendy.”

I almost said “Most of L.A. has probably ‘met’ Wendy.”  - almost.  There was an awkward silence that rattled like a gutter ball in the tenth frame.  Thankfully just then Gunter re-entered the room like a pin reset.  He wheeled in a cart loaded with various bottles of booze, a bucket of ice and a bowl full of tiny umbrellas. 

“What is your poison, Mr. Merlot?”

 “Cheap blondes.” I quipped as I tossed my hat aside.

 He grunted. “I’ve shared that poison, sir.  How does a brandy sound for now?”

“Sounds just fine.”  

“Do you wish ice or just as it is?”

I wiped some more sweat from my brow. “Normally straight, but I think I’ll have the ice today.”

 Gunter dropped in a couple of ice cubes and started pouring like he was measuring our medicine.  The General looked at him a bit disapprovingly.

“Oh, do it right, man.”

Gunter added more until it almost came to the brim.  He handed it to me.  I picked out the umbrella and sipped.  The General followed the glass from my hand to my lips with the intensity of a peeping tom.

“My wife liked to warm hers in both her hands rolling it back and forth.” His gaze went a little distant.

I thought to myself.  She wouldn’t be the first woman who liked to hold her liquor like that.

Whatever day dream he was having was a short one.  He shook his head slightly and grunted again.

“I suppose I should know something about you, sir, though Bernie Buck had a lot of good things to say.”

“Bernie’s a good man.  He was good boss.”

“So good that you left?” he asked.

“My leaving had nothing to do with Bernie as a boss.”  I replied. 

 “Something with Mrs. Buck, I hear.”  The General smiled knowingly.

 He heard right and now it was my turn to daydream.  Betty Buck had raven black hair, dark full cherry red lips and a small high bosom.  She was a tall of gin and tonic, cool and intoxicating.  And me – I was just the willing swizzle stick.  The memories of cheap rye, sweat and Bernie’s desk flooded over me for a moment while the words “Buck me, Betty.  Buck me hard” played like a cracked record in the back of my mind.  Where did I put that damn hat?  The General’s voice brought me back.

“Mr. Merlot?”

 “Sorry, I’m not one to kiss and tell, General.” I looked around some more for the hat that the marshmallow cushions must have swallowed. 

“I’m not criticizing, Mr. Merlot.  Men are frequently left parched after over-indulging a taste for women, … or anchovy pizzas.  Was it worth it?”

I tried to laugh a little. “You’re safer with the pizza, General.  Besides when’s the last time you got the cla ….  er venereal disease  from an anchovy?”

The old man laughed a little.  “A point well made, Mr. Merlot.”