Without the backing of the son-of-bitch Lenny never would’ve been elected president of his senior class. He happily woke up one morning to the reality of having won by a wide margin and accepted the gift without mentioning his benefactor. That was the understanding from the get go. He didn’t have to say, of course, because everybody knew who ran things.
It had been a pretty vicious campaign. The results were recorded in the weekly edition of the Tattletale but nothing about how Cesar stole the election for Lenny. Horace Jackson should’ve won. Horace had the most determination and lined the halls with the most posters…three or four times more than anyone else. Lenny wasn’t as smart as Horace but wouldn’t have wanted to be. He felt contempt for anyone smart enough to belong to the National Honor Society and Cesar convinced him to use that against Horace. And before he could come up with a response Horace was assailed by a hateful band of nose pickers and snot eaters who were organized by Cesar to mock him. The nose pickers and snot eaters would follow Horace around. Some pretended to idolize him. Poor Horace, he was smart but not smart enough to outwit Cesar. And each time the nose pickers mocked Horace, Lenny stood up for him. He’d say, “How gross! Cut it out and show more respect for someone who’s better.” And each time he defended Horace, Lenny got a little closer to winning and eventually overtook his opponent.
And afterward, as a way of celebrating, Cesar said, “Let’s run to border and get some nooky,” and the three of them went down there, and Cesar got out, walked in, and plopped down a wad of dough. He gave a little chuckle as he led the way. Antonio and Lenny tagged along. After all they were only seventeen. That night Lenny was passionate, he was weak, he was stupid, he was pitiful, and the worse thing was he was terribly inept.
Higgs remembered how Maggie started to cry.
“Now what’s the matter,” he asked.
“I’m so happy.”
Notwithstanding the fact that he had just given her an engagement ring he saw in her face sadness that only could’ve come from a sense of foreboding. He had been drinking, garnering courage. But not yet drunk. He made it a point not to drink too much around her.
“Wow, I’m glad that’s over. Don’t laugh. I was very nervous.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
They sat facing each other at table in front of a huge fish tank. They’d ordered sea fish platters and the platters had come. They allowed the waiter to squeeze lemon over the cod. They’d planned to go to a movie; except Lenny said something had come up, something that he was vague about. He stretched his arms across the table and taking her hands said, “I wanted this to be perfect.”
“It was just like I always imagined.”
And he felt like taking her in his arms and kissing her on the lips, except the damn table was in the way; their fish, shrimp, and scallops were getting cold, and they were in a public place. Captain Hook’s seafood platters were the very best in Tucson.
She had to be beautiful, and with all of the competition how else could she have caught the future mayor? And of course Maggie forgot everything the moment he finally took her in his arms. Forgot how he kept looking at his watch. Yes, he seemed very nervous. That was to be expected, wasn’t it?
She never cared for his silly grin that indicated a lie. The truth hurt. Maggie’s thoughts dwelt for a moment on high school and Lydia and how unfortunately she’d called Lydia a slut. It belittled Maggie. She felt superior to that. But Lenny never spoke of Lydia. Of course he didn’t love Lydia; boys didn’t love girls like Lydia. But he was too much of a gentleman to slur the slut’s name. Maggie smiled thinking of her victory; it was just like him, silly boy, even after they were engaged to be considerate and get her home on time, even when she was willing to reward him: reward him by allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth and more. But for all of her seductiveness he held her at bay.
“What’s the matter?”
”Nothing.”
“For nothing you seem awfully jumpy. Okay.” It was okay then for him to give her a long, wet, passionate kiss; and as they held each other she chuckled and said, “Good night. And a cold shower might help.”
So after he proposed to Maggie and took her home for the night he hooked up with Cesar. Cesar then took charge much like an excellent concierge and ushered Lenny into the Pioneer Hotel. They didn’t mention Maggie. By then Maggie would’ve been in bed.
Rushing, they thought they knew everything, everything they needed to know. Thanks to Cesar Lenny lost his innocence and was already caught up in the complications of sex. Lenny’s face burned. His palms were sweaty, and his temples throbbed.
Cesar had arranged everything. And the contempt he had for Lenny never surfaced, as he captained the game. A rotten game, when one thought about it. “Whatta you think?”
“A neat place,” said Lenny, as he looked around the lobby.
Lenny had returned with Cesar to Pioneer Hotel downtown. One needed no further explanation, in truth, than that Maggie went to church. Higgs blamed it all on her because she was a Baptist (hypocrites infuriated him; Higgs concluded, Catholics were more sexually liberated). Oh, but that was an excuse, come on Higgs, be honest! You can’t blame her for your downfall…or see Maggie again. But this was preposterous: to blame his down fall on the fact that she wouldn’t give him any and would remain a virgin until their wedding night.
Cesar, the consummate horse trader (a title Antonio gave him), a considerate trickster, had the unusual ability of always getting his way, and even back then could get people to sin. In fact his hold on the night desk clerk at the Pioneer Hotel was based upon Cesar’s knowledge that the clerk had a taste for boys. Moments of weakness, too often and shattering, allowed Cesar to control his victims and put him in a position of power. That explained how he finagled a room at the Pioneer and set Lenny up for a night with Flo. For Higgs Cesar made such arrangements on a regular basis until Maggie’s death.
It was after midnight approaching one o’clock. Already the musicians that played that night in the ballroom had unplugged their guitars and were lugging speakers and other equipment to a van double-parked in front of the hotel. There also still were people from the bar going up to their rooms, and the clerk behind the main desk, sleepy by then since he’d worked a double shift, was expecting Cesar to come in with a friend. He had a room key ready, a key on a ring with a tag with the room number on it. If Cesar had gone up to the fourth floor with Lenny he would’ve seen that his instructions were followed…that instead of just any room he arranged for one of the better ones, where a woman by the name of Flo waited for Lenny.
When Lenny entered the room and locked the door behind him, the light was on and Flo sat there with her back to him. He could see that she was naked. Looking out the window she watched the band below her get into their van and drive down Stone Avenue. In silence she thought about how she usually worked South Sixth Avenue (in a halter-top, short shorts, and stacked heels) and not downtown and felt out of place.
Floe suffered from asthma. Chronic asthma. Often it took all of her effort to breathe, but she needed the money.
Lenny immediately felt sorry for Flo, whose asthma attack was so severe that she spent most of the night sitting in a chair attached to a breathing machine. Then it became his job to sit up with her and learn about asthma and learned that it didn’t do any good to get overly alarmed. She, in fact, told Lenny not to worry because she knew at what point she’d need to be rushed to the hospital.
Randy Ford
