The Mountain Shadow

‘One Man Show,’ I said, nodding at Jamal.

‘One Man Show,’ he repeated.

I looked at Karla, and she understood.

‘One Man Show,’ she said, smiling at him.

‘One Man Show,’ Jamal replied on cue, smiling back.

I looked at Concannon, wanting him to leave, but he was talking, instead.

‘The dead can dance, you know,’ he said conversationally.

I moved my eyes to Dennis, at the wheel of the hearse.

‘Are you sure you should be driving, Dennis?’ I asked, trying to shut Concannon down.

‘I must drive,’ Dennis intoned, his rumbling voice echoing in the hearse. ‘Concannon is not stoned enough to drive a hearse.’

‘The dead can dance,’ Concannon repeated, smiling happily. ‘They really can, you know.’

‘You don’t say,’ Karla said, leaning against me.

‘I do say,’ Concannon grinned. ‘I’ve learned a lot on this job. It’s been a real education. I usually walked away, you see, while they were still twitchin’, and never looked back.’

‘Concannon,’ Dennis said. ‘You’re killing my high, man.’

‘I’m only havin’ a conversation, Dennis. Just because we’re undertakers, doesn’t mean we can’t be sociable.’

‘True,’ Dennis said. ‘But how do you expect me to test-drive this new hearse, if I’m not high?’

‘I’m only sayin’, like,’ Concannon persisted. ‘They wriggle around, dead bodies, long after they’re gone, shakin’ about on the table all of a sudden like. One body we had, yesterday, danced better than I do. But I was never the one for dancin’, truth be told, when there was fightin’ or kissin’ to be had.’

‘Light the next chillum,’ Dennis said, putting the hearse into gear. ‘If you don’t care for my high, listen to the mannequin. He’s screaming for it.’

They pulled away, the slogan of their company streaming past us slowly on the long windows of the hearse: Peace In Rest.

‘Now, that’s an interesting team.’

‘A marriage made in Limbo,’ I said. ‘But the mannequin seemed like a nice guy.’

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Diva Devnani called us to a meeting at her corporate office. It was on the Worli Seaface, a long slow smile of buildings beaming at the sea from a wide, curved boulevard. Diva’s building was like the upper deck of an ocean liner, with tall, rounded windows in full sail, and a continuous balcony serving as the rail.

When the elevator doors closed, I offered Karla my flask. She took a swig, and handed it back. The elevator operator glanced at me. I offered him the flask, and he took a swig, dripping the rum into his mouth without touching it to his lips. He passed it back, wagging his head.

‘God bless everyone,’ he said.

‘Speaking for everyone,’ Karla said, ‘God bless you back.’

The doors opened onto a marble and glass prairie, with several very pretty girls in very tight skirts grazing at desks of distraction.

While Karla spoke to the receptionist, I wandered among the glass and steel desks, glancing over shoulders. The girls were listening to music on their headphones, playing video games and reading magazines.

One of the girls looked up at me mid-flip in her magazine. She turned down the volume on her headset.

‘Can I help you?’ she threatened, her eyes fierce.

‘I’ll . . . you know . . . I’ll just be over there,’ I said, backing away.

The receptionist took us to an alcove with a view of the door to Diva’s office, where we sat in plush chairs. There was a side table, with business newspapers and magazines, soda water in a glass jug, and some peanuts, offered in a bronze cast of a human hand.

The palm of peanuts drew my eye as we sat down. I pointed at it, trying to figure out the message.

‘This is what we’re gonna pay you?’ I whispered to Karla. ‘Or maybe, this is what happened to the last guy who asked for a raise?’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Karla said.

‘Damn good,’ I smiled, my eyes applauding.

A tall, pretty girl appeared at our side.

‘Can I get you a cup of coffee?’ the girl asked.

‘Maybe later, with Diva,’ Karla said. ‘Thanks.’

The girl left, and I turned to Karla.

‘It’s pretty weird, out there in reception.’

‘It’s still a marble tile or two short of weird.’

‘No, I mean the girls. They’re not doing anything.’

‘What do you mean, they’re not doing anything?’

‘It’s a jive of inactivity.’

‘So? Maybe it’s a slow day.’

‘Karla, come on. There are seven very pretty girls out there, and not one of them is doing anything. It’s kinda weird.’

‘It’s kinda weird that you counted them,’ she smiled.

‘I –’

The door to Diva’s office opened. It was exactly one minute before our meeting. A grasp of businessmen filed out, wearing similar suits and identical stares of ambition, fed.

‘Punctuality is the time of thieves,’ Karla said, glancing at the clock, and standing.

Diva came to the door of the office, her hands on her hips.

‘Come in,’ she said, kissing Karla on both cheeks. ‘I’ve missed you both so much. Thanks for coming.’

She flopped into an immense chair, behind the curve of a black grand piano that she’d shortened, and converted into a desk.