Ghost Music Read Free Page B

you don’t like milk? You’d rather have a shot of El Tesoro? That can be arranged.”
    My phone started to play “Hang On, Sloopy” and I briefly turned around. When I turned back, however, Malkin had disappeared, like one of Magician’s conjuring tricks. Vanished, evaporated, without even the sound of her paws pattering down the stairs.
    I closed the door and went to answer the phone. It was Margot. She sounded as if she were calling me from somebody’s party. A girl in the background was calling out, “Margot! Margot! Come here, will you? Michael has something
so-o-o
wild to show you!”
    â€œAre you okay?” I asked her.
    â€œSure, I’m terrific. I’m at Lydia’s birthday party. I just wanted to know if
you
were okay.”
    â€œOf course I’m okay. I’ve been working, that’s all. At least I
was
working, until they started having an orgy downstairs.”
    â€œAn orgy? Your well-heeled neighbors? How about that! Maybe you moved into the right apartment after all!”
    â€œWell, I don’t know about that. They’re playing Tony Bennett records.”
    â€œOh, God. Better than Barry Manilow, I suppose.”
    â€œListen . . . did you call me for any special reason? I really need to get some sleep now, so long as all this orgasmic screaming doesn’t keep me awake.”
    â€œI did, yes. I was worried about you. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
    â€œOf course I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?”
    â€œWe did this fortune-telling tonight, with real Tibetan beads. They’re so accurate, it’s scary. They even knew that my sister was sick.”
    â€œOkay . . . but why are you calling me?”
    â€œBecause I asked the fortune-teller if you would be happy in your new home. And he kept coming up with two beads, which means ‘raven,’ and that means bad luck. He said you would suffer pain, and broken bones, and burning in a fire. Most of all, he said you had to stay well away from a woman who had nobody walking beside her.”
    â€œSo what the hell does that mean?”
    â€œI don’t know. I asked him myself, but he kept on saying the same thing, again and again. And the other thing he said was, ‘a white memory is watching you . . . so keep your door locked.’”
    â€œâ€˜A white memory’? What’s ‘a white memory’ when it’s at home?”
    â€œI have no idea, Lalo. Don’t shoot the messenger. I simply thought you ought to know how your divination turned out, so that you can take the necessary precautions. As it is, I’m glad you’re okay.”
    â€œThank you, Margot,” I said, tiredly.
    â€œThat’s all right. I love you, Lalo, and I don’t want you coming to a sticky end. Ever.”
    I put down the phone. Downstairs, the Tony Bennett song had ended, although I could still hear voices and bumping sounds. What the hell were they doing—rearranging the goddamned furniture? I felt like putting on my hiking boots and doing a thunderous Cossack dance all around the living room. But thenI thought—no, that would be childish. I was going to have to live with the Solways for the next few years, I would just have to get used to their little soirées. They wouldn’t have an orgy every night. At least I hoped not.
    I took a long, hot shower, until the plumbing began to rumble, and then I toweled myself off and went to bed in my N.Y. Mets boxer shorts. I could see a three-quarters moon through the bedroom window, until it disappeared behind the Franks Building. The night was much quieter now, except for the echo of sirens and the rumbling of traffic. At least Tony Bennett had put a sock in it.
    I wondered what was going on downstairs—whether the three of them were lying in an octopus-like tangle on their bed, passing a joint from one to the other.
    To my annoyance, I found myself murmuring, under my