Out of Sight

Crossing the lobby she said hi to Sheldon behind the desk and he showed her his bad teeth. At least he smiled.

None of the tight-assed hostesses on the strip smiled or gave her one fucking word of encouragement.

Adele went up the stairs to the second floor and into her apartment done in blond furniture from fifty years ago, Miami Beach Moderne, with sailboats and palm trees on the limp curtains. She turned on the window air conditioner. Every time she looked out now she hoped to God she wouldn't see Jack across the street, like in a movie: leaning against a post he lights a cigarette and looks up at the window. Jack posed too, but was good at it.

She dropped the LIKE MAGIC! three-by-five cards she had left over on the glass top dining table and stood looking down at them.

Expert ivith doves and all forms of legerdemain. Expert at cleaning up dove shit in the dressing rooms. A natural at standing with one four-inch heel precisely in front of the other, smiling, glowing, her arm rising in a graceful gesture to the birds flying out of Emil's filthy coat.

What she should do, hell, advertise herself as a magician and play birthdays, schools, company parties, that kind of thing; prisons, why not? She could do rope tricks: cut and restore, threading the needle, the coat-escape using volunteers. She could do handkerchief tricks: Fatima the dancer, the serpentine silk, the dissolving knot. She could do card tricks: the Hindu shuffle, overhand shuffle, the doubt lift, the glide…

The phone rang, on the desk by the window.

She could do sealed envelopes: the Gypsy mind reader, impossible penetrations…

Ill

"Hi, this is Adele speaking."

A male voice said, "Oh, is this Adele?" with an accent, Cuban, or one of those.

"Yes, it is. Are you calling in answer to my ad in the paper?"

"No, I don't see it."

"You picked up one of my announcements? You must have been right behind me when I passed them out."

"I talk to the guy you work for, Emil?"

"Oh, uh-huh. Yeah, I was Emil's box-jumper for almost four years."

"You were his what, his box?…"

"His assistant. What did he say about me?"

"He tole me your number and where you live. See, I'm looking for an assistant and would like to speak to you."

"May I ask, sir, do you perform in the Miami area?"

"Yes, around here. I was a mayishan in Cuba before I come here. Manuel the Mayishan was my name. Let me ask you something. You do the sawing of the box in half trick with you inside?"

Adele paused.

"Yes?"

"How do you do that trick?"

"How do you do it?"

"Forgive me. I ask you this wanting to be sure you are experience."

"Well, I've seen it performed both ways," Adele said, " 'thin sawing' or the old Selbit method, if that's what you mean."

There was a silence before the Cuban voice said, "Yes, I see you know what you doing. I would like to come speak to you about working for me."

Adele said, "Well…" She said, "Why don't I meet you at the Cardozo, on the porch? You know where it is?"

"Yes, but you don't want me to come where you live?"

"I have to go out anyway. I can meet you in an hour. Will that be all right?"

He took a moment before saying, "Yes, all right."

And Adele hung up.

How do you do the sawing of the box in half trick?… Was he serious? He didn't know a box-jumper was an assistant. Maybe mayishans in Cuba called them something else.

The phone rang.

She'd wear shorts, show off her legs.

"Hi, this is Adele speaking."

Whoever it was hung up.

Buddy came out of Wolfie's and got in the car.

"She's home."

He turned south on to Collins and didn't say another word until they had gone ten blocks and were passing the Normandie.

"There it is. You see the guy sitting on the porch? The old ladies and one guy? You know they'll have a couple more in a car."

Foley was looking around.

"I didn't notice any."

"You know they're there."

"I'll keep my eyes open."

Buddy turned right on 10th and right again into the alley to pass behind the row of hotels. He said, "Nobody hanging out back here, that's good." They came to llth at the end of the alley and Buddy stopped.

He said to Foley, "You bring the gun?"

Foley lifted the straw bag from his lap.

"In here, with my suntan lotion and beach towel."

"You giving her some cash?"

"What I got the other day."

Buddy nodded, staring at Foley, studying him.

"I still think you ought to wear a hat."

"All the shots of me in banks I have a hat on, or a cap. I doubt anyone's seen me without one."

"Look at your watch," Buddy said.

"It's eleven-twenty. I'll be back here in half an hour, at ten of twelve. You don't show, I'll be back here at twelve-twenty. You still don't show I'll see you in thirty years."