The 16mm Caper

Chapter 7

The small, cloth covered table was on a balcony overlooking the busy bar surrounded by the racket of the evening's clientele, yet sufficiently isolated to permit conversational privacy. Under a temporary truce, they had left the Green Plum and gone across the road to a sports bar to thrash out the evening's events, and now they sat facing one another; he held his hand across the short distance and tried to coax a smile.

"Listen, I don't know who she was. She knew my name and where I worked and she said she had a friend interested in making an offer for the film. I wasn't interested in her that way. Actually, I thought it was someone from your company that you'd mentioned me to."

"Hardly, but why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why weren't you interested?"

He sat back and clicked his nails on the table edge. "Christ I don't know, she was just to- to . . ."

"Yes, she was."

"Hey Mare, get serious here." He reached for her hand. "I thought you might be excited that the film is stirring immediate interest."

"Well I'm not."

"Apparently. Sorry to bother you with what I thought was good news." He pulled his hand back and directed his attention down to the crowded bar.

A young couple patrolled the narrow space behind the polished counter, splashing liquor and mix into glasses filled with crushed ice. The impossible variety of hairstyles all bobbed rhythmically to the thrum of the base emanating from a cluster of ceiling mounted speakers; the post workday stress ritual played out with an intensity born of desperation.

Loud, forced conversation and laughter combining with the requisite corner TVs tuned to jock-talk sports, completed the illusion of meaningful enterprise.

He felt the slight tug on his fingers and turned back. "What do you want me to say?"

"I just want you to feel the same pleasure I'm expected to show for your special award."

"You mean you don't really."

"Oh for Christ's sake. Forget it. Let's go back to your party."

He caught the hurt look on her face and he grimaced, feeling like a rat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. Let's just forget the whole thing."

"Are you going to meet her?"

He stared at her for a moment wondering if there was a correct answer. "Sure. Maybe. I don't know, she seemed- I don't know . . . sinister."

"Sinister."

"Yeah, like Sydney Greenstreet in the Maltese Falcon."

"You have to do that?"

"What?"

"Equate everything with some movie?"

"I am in the business, Mare. It's a business thing, don't get so excited."

"Sounds like your excitement goes beyond the film what with Cat Woman making offers." She felt a twinge of guilt as the barb struck home.

"That's a rotten thing to say."

She started her reply but a waitress wearing a professional league football jersey two sizes too large blocked her view with a menu the size of a coffee table, and after ordering drinks and waiting for the woman to depart, they fell silently into searching through the massive pages for something to eat.

The situation apparently triggered a craving for food. The Green Plumb had offered only a sea of hors d'oeuvres, nothing substantial. Somewhere below a glass broke and a raucous cheer drowned out the groan of the male bartender. The waitress arrived back with their drinks and they watched in silence as she set them down, careful to keep her bulky sleeves from tipping the glasses.

With a degree of annoyance, she picked up Peter's menu where he had set it beside his chair, and took their orders.

"I think I'll just have a small Caesar Salad and some garlic bread." Mary closed her menu and leaned back, tapping her fork on the cloth. She studied Peter studying the waitress and reflected on the feelings that drove her to want him in her life.

"Chicken wings. The hotter the better," he said petulantly.

"Is that supposed to punish me? Because if it is, I think you're the one who will pay. Look, I'm sorry, okay?" She watched him extend his pout.

"You need more time?" The waitress tapped the menus with her pen, shifting their bulk to one hip. Peter hummed and hawed, eventually modifying his decision to medium hot

"Peter, grow up. Jesus! You sit there like some spoiled little brat who didn't get his way." The couple at the next table glanced over, masking smirks.

"You're right." He relaxed and took a sip of water. "I apologize. It's all my fault. Imagine getting excited over something possibly like good fortune."

"Don't you start patronizing me." She dropped her fork and folded her arms.

"I'm not. I meant every word." He said with an edge. "Let's forget the whole thing."

They sat and drank then ate in silence with a probing glance now and then to check the temperature. Finally, after a second coffee, Mary apologized again, admitting that it had been an attack of jealousy that set her off. He relented and dismissed the whole thing with a wave, making his own attempt at apology.

Opposing armies ejecting the shells from their weapons and laying them at their feet.

"So who do you think the person is that wants the film?" Mary asked, after they had gone over the conversations once again.

"Beats me. Somebody with a creepy representative."

"I wouldn't have described her as creepy." She teased, smiling at his reaction.

"Me either." His grin spread as her eyes widened.

He held up his hand while he pulled out his wallet and dropped a credit card on the tray, beckoning the waitress and telling her they were in a bit of a hurry. "We can finish this at home." He reached for her hand and felt her fingers mesh with his own. "You don't have to go back there do you?" He tipped his head in the direction of the Green Plumb.

"Only if I value my job and want to keep the award." She grinned and clenched his hand tighter. "Let's take a cab."