Bender at the Bon Parisien (A Novel) Read Online Free Page A

you?” she added as she looked around. “Get a rag. Fix
this.” She motioned grandly toward the room.
    Janie
looked like she enjoyed hearing this stranger boss me around. She raised her
eyebrows and smiled. I wet a bar towel and came out from behind the counter,
not willing to clean up the entire place. I wiped down one table and righted
the chair. The clock chimed behind me. I turned to see Trudel, who was now
engaged behind the bar.
    “This
room isn’t the same without these tones,” Trudel said as she wound and adjusted
the hands on the clock. It didn’t occur to me that it was only stopped, not
broken.
    Still
amused, Janie made a nod toward to the curtain. The motion was subtle, but I
agreed that it might be time to leave.
    “Well,
we should probably be heading out,” I mused out loud for Madame von Hugelstein.
    “Yep
probably,” Janie agreed. She finished her drink and casually slid the empty
glass away from her.
    Trudel
ignored us. She moved down the bar a little and greeted the bust. She
straightened up and gently toasted the man with an air of sarcasm. I downed the
rest of my drink and took my place behind the bar again. Trudel grimaced at me
and returned to the customer side to sit down.
    “Ready?”
Janie asked in an effort to get us out the door.
    “Yes.
Madame von Hugelstein,” I started. “It was our pleasure …”
    The
curtain again parted and a new face peered in. Janie and I looked over as my
voice trailed off. The man staring back was as silent and expressionless as we
were.
    “Oh
God,” Trudel muttered quietly.
    The
man entered the room. He walked cautiously, as his eyes darted around the bar with
a nervous energy. His face was all jowls. Mostly balding, the frumpy man had tried
to comb what little hair he had left to cover his entire scalp. The shine on
his loafers had long left the shoe, and his sweater vest bore the classic look
of a well-laundered article of clothing. I guessed that at one point it had looked
expensive.
    His
round face was framed by large glasses and centered by a well-trimmed little
mustache. I looked at Janie, but she was sizing our new company up as well and
seemed to have forgotten about the plan to leave for a moment.
    “ Bonsoir ,”
the man started. He was sweating a little.
    “ Bonsoir ,”
I answered. “My wife and I are guests here. I actually don’t work here or
anything. We were just about to leave for dinner …”
    “A
beer, please,” he said.
    “Well,
uh, okay.”
    “We
might as well, honey,” Janie assured me. “I’ll have one more, too.”
    I
expected the concierge to step through the curtain at any time to stop the
party, but the cloth barrier remained motionless.
    “1664
in a bottle, please,” he said.
    “Of
course, sir.” I went to the fridge.
    He
pulled up a stool between the ladies. “Hello, Trudel.”
    “Hello,
Fleuse,” she answered, avoiding his gaze. She pronounced it “Flooze.”
    “You
look nice tonight,” he offered.
    Trudel
barely acknowledged this compliment. She raised her eyebrows and huffed softly.
She hadn’t smiled once until this moment, but she didn’t seem to be all that
happy.
    Fleuse
waited for a response, but none came beyond that. He then looked in my
direction.
    “And
who do we have here?” he asked as he looked me up and down.
    “My
name is Peter. This is my wife, Janie. We are on vacation from Indiana, in the
United States.”
    “I
know where Indiana is,” he sniffed.
    “I’m
sorry,” I answered, thinking I’d offended the man. “Are you familiar with the
United States?”
    “I
went to New York City one time. I hated it.” Again, he turned toward Trudel. He
paused, as if weighing his next question. “And how have you been?”
    “It
hasn’t been that long, Fleuse,” she answered.
    “Well,
it’s been a little while, at least.”
    “Maybe.”
    He
glanced nervously back at me to see how intently I was listening or watching.
“Maybe,” he continued, “we’d be able to have dinner