"Oh ... a makeover?"
Stephanie smiled. "Don't take it personal. But I think you need a fairy godmother."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rune wanted slinky.
Stephanie reluctantly indulged her but the expedition to stores that specialized in svelte was a failure. Rune spent a half hour in tiny, hot changing rooms trying on long black dresses and playing with her hair, trying to look like Audrey Hepburn, trying to look slinky. But then the word frumpy crept into her mind and, even though she could strip and look at her flat stomach and thin legs and pretty face, once she thought frump, that killed it. No long dresses today.
"You win," she muttered to Stephanie.
"Thank you" was the abrupt reply. "Now let's get to work."
They walked south, out of the Village.
"Richard likes long and slinky," Rune explained.
"Of course he does," Stephanie replied. "He's a man. He probably likes red and black bustiers and garters too." But she went on to explain patiently that a woman should never buy clothes for a man. She should buy clothes for herself, which will in turn make the man respect and desire her more.
"You think?"
"I know."
"Radical," Rune said.
Stephanie rolled her eyes and said, "We'll go for European."
"Richard's very French-looking. I'd like to get him to change his name."
"To what?"
"It was Francois. Now I'm leaning toward Jean-Paul."
"What does he think about that?"
"Haven't told him. I'm going to wait a few weeks."
"Wise."
SoHo, the former warehouse and manufacturing district adjoining Greenwich Village, was just becoming chic. The area used to be a bastion of artists-in-residence-- working painters and sculptors, who were the only people who could legally live in the neighborhood under the city zoning code. But while the city granted permits only to certified artists, it did nothing about controlling the cost of the huge lofts, and as the galleries and wine bars and boutiques moved into the commercial buildings, the residential prices skyrocketed into the hundreds of thousands.... It was funny how many lawyers and bankers suddenly found they had talent to paint and sculpt.
They passed one clothing store, painted stark white inside. Rune stopped abruptly and gazed at a black silk blouse.
"Love it."
"So do I," Stephanie agreed.
"Can we get it?"
"No."
"Why not? What's wrong with it?"
"See that tag? That's not the order number. That's the price."
"Four hundred and fifty dollars!"
"Come on, follow me. I know a little Spanish place up the street."
They turned off West Broadway onto Spring and walked into a store that Rune loved immediately because a large white bird sitting on a perch by the door said, "Hello, sucker," to them when they entered.
Rune looked around. She said, "I'm game. But it's not funky. It's not New Wave."
"It's not supposed to be."
After twenty minutes of careful assembly, Stephanie examined Rune with approval and only then allowed her to look in a mirror.
"Awesome," Rune whispered. "You're a magician."
The maroon skirt was long though it was more billowy than slinky. On top she wore a low-cut black T-shirt and over that a lacy see-through blouse. Stephanie picked out some dangly earrings in orange plastic.
"It's not the old me but it's definitely a sort of me."
"I think you're evolving," Stephanie told her.
As the clerk wrapped up the clothes Rune said, "You know the story of the little red hen?"
"Was it on Sesame Street?"
"I don't think so. She was the one who was baking bread, and nobody helped her, except this one animal. I forget what it was. Duck, rabbit. Who knows? Anyway, when the bread was done all the other animals came to the hen and said they wanted some. But she said, 'Haul ass, creeps.' And she only shared it with the one that helped her. Well, when I find the bank money I'm going to share it with you."
"Me?"
"You believe me. Richard doesn't. The police don't."
Stephanie didn't say anything. They stepped outside and returned to West Broadway. "You don't have to do that, Rune," she said finally.
"But I want to. Maybe you can quit the stupid video store and audition full-time."
"Really ..."
"No." The Hungarian accent was back. "Don't argue with peasant woman. Very pigheaded ... Oh, wait." Rune glanced at a store across the street. "Richard said he's got a surprise for me. I want to get him something."
They ran across Broadway, dodging traffic. Rune stopped, caught her breath, looked in the window. "What do men like?" she asked.
Stephanie said, "Themselves." And they walked inside.
The store seemed futuristic but it may actually have been antique, Rune reasoned, since it reminded her of how her mother described the sixties--gaudy and filled with weird glowing lights and spaceships and planets and a confusion of incense smells: musk, patchouli, rose, sandalwood.
Rune looked at a black-lit poster of a ship sailing in the sky and said, "Highly retro."
Stephanie looked around, bored.
In the display cases: geodes, crystals, stones, opals, silver and gold, magic wands of quartz wrapped with silver wire, headdresses, meteorites, NASA memorabilia, electronic music tapes, optical illusions. Colored lights broken apart by spinning prisms crawled up and down the walls.
"It's going to make me epileptic," Stephanie groused.
"This is the most radical store ever, don't you think? Isn't it fantastic?" Rune picked up two dinosaurs and made them dance.
"The jewelry's nice." Stephanie was leaning over a counter.
"What do you think he'd like?"
"This stuff is too expensive. A rip-off."
Rune spun a kaleidoscope. "He's not really into toys, I don't think."
The clerk, a thin black man with a round, handsome face framed by Rastafarian dreadlocks, said to Rune in a deep musical voice, "What you see in there?"
"Nirvana. Look." She handed the heavy tube to him.
He played along, peering inside. "Ah, nirvana, there she is. Special today on kaleidoscopes that show you enlightenment. Half price."
Rune shook her head. "Doesn't seem right you should pay for enlightenment."
"This is New York," he said. "Whatchu want?"
Stephanie said, "I'm hungry."
Then Rune saw the bracelets. In a huge glass pyramid, a dozen silver bracelets. She walked to the end of the counter, staring at them, her mouth slightly open. Exhaling an Oh.
"You like them, do you?" the clerk asked.
"Can I see that one, there?"
Rune took the thin bracelet, held it up to her face. Turned it over and over. The silver grew thicker and thinner and the ends were like two hands clasped together.
The Rastafarian grinned. "She look nice. She look nice on your arm but ..."
"'She'?" Stephanie asked.
The clerk was studying Rune's face. "Mebbe you thinkin' 'bout givin' her away to someone. Mebbe you thinkin' that?" He held the bracelet in his long, sensuous fingers, studied it carefully. Rune thought of Richard's hands slowly opening a beer can. The clerk looked up. "To some man friend of yours."
Rune didn't pay attention to his words. "How did you know that?" Stephanie asked him.
He grinned, silent. Then said, "He's a nice man, I think."
Stephanie looked at him uneasily. "How did you know?"
And Rune, who wasn't surprised at all by the clerk's words, said, "I'll take it."
"It's too expensive."
The Rastafarian frowned. "Hey, I offer you satori, I offer you love, and you say that be too expensive?"
"Bargain with him," Stephanie commanded.
Rune said, "Wrap it for a present."
The Rastafarian hesitated. "You sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. Why?"
"Oh, jus' this bracelet, s
he be important in your life, I got this feelin'. Be very important." He fingered the metal hoop. "Don't be too fast to give her away. No, no, don't be too fast to do that."
"Can we eat now?" Stephanie asked. "I'm hungry."
As they walked to the door the clerk called to Rune, "You hear me?"
Rune turned. Looked into his eyes. "I hear you."
"'I'll go in, sir,' "
Rune handed Stephanie a hot dog she'd bought from the vendor in front of Trinity Church downtown, near Wall Street. She continued speaking. "'I'll go in, sir' is what Roy the cop--Dana Mitchell--says to his captain. They're all standing around the front of the bank with their bullhorns and guns. 'I'll go in, sir.' And it's a big surprise because he's just a beat cop and a young guy. Nobody'd been paying any attention to him. But he's the one who volunteers to rescue the hostage."
Rune took her own hot dog from the man. They sat down beside the wrought-iron fence in front of the cemetery. Thousands of people were walking past on Broadway, some disappearing down Wall Street into the curving, solemn griminess of the buildings.
Stephanie ate thoughtfully, looking at the hot dog uncertainly after each bite.
"Then Roy goes, 'Let me try it, sir. I can talk him out. I know I can.'"
"Uh-huh." Stephanie was gazing straight ahead; the hordes of passing crowds were mesmerizing.
"So the lieutenant goes, 'All right, officer, if you want to go, I won't stop you.'"
Rune threw out her half-eaten hot dog. Stood up." 'But it's dangerous.'" She sounded as melodramatic as the character in the film itself. "That was another cop, a friend of his, said that. And Dana--remember that dreamy kind of look he had?--Dana says, 'I'm not letting anyone get killed on my beat.' His jaw was all firm and he pulled his hat straight and handed his nightstick to his friend then walked across the street and climbed in the side window." Rune started pacing. "Come on, let's go. I want to see the real bank."
Stephanie glanced at the last inch of hot dog, then pitched it into a garbage can. She wiped her hands and mouth with a thin napkin.
They descended into Wall Street. A white luminescence shone through the milky clouds, but the Street, with its narrow, packed rows of dark office buildings, was gloomy.
Rune said, "They shot the movie at the old Union Bank Building itself--that's were the actual robbery took place. The bank went bust years ago and the building was sold. It's been a bunch of things since then. Last year some company bought it and made a restaurant out of the ground floor."
Stephanie said, "Can we get some coffee there? I need some coffee."
Rune was excited, walking ahead of her, then slowing and falling back into step. "Isn't this too much? Walking the same streets the actors did forty years ago? Maybe Dana Mitchell stopped right here and put his foot up on that fire hydrant to tie his shoe."
"Maybe."
"Oh, look!" Rune gripped her arm. "There, the corner! That's where the robber fired a shot as the cops were closing in after the alarm went off. It's a great scene." She ran toward the corner, dodged past a young woman in a pink suit, and pressed back against the marble as if she were under fire. "Stephanie! Get down! Get under cover!"
"You're crazy," Stephanie said, walking slowly to the wall.
Rune reached forward. "You want to get shot? Get down!"
She pulled Stephanie, laughing, into a crouch. Several passersby had heard her. They looked around, cautious. Stephanie, pretending she didn't know Rune, whispered, "You're out of your mind!" Looking at the crowd, speaking louder: "She's out of her mind."
Rune's eyes were bright. "Can you imagine it? The bank's around the corner. And ... Listen!" A jackhammer sounded in the distance. "A machine gun! The robber's got a machine gun, an old tommy gun. He's blasting away at us. Okay, it's right around the corner and he's got a hostage and a million dollars. I've got to save him!"
Stephanie laughed and tugged at Rune's arm. Playing along now. "No, no don't go, it's too dangerous."
Rune adjusted an invisible hat, eased her shoulders back. "Nobody gets killed on my beat." And turned the corner.
Just in time to see a bulldozer shovel what had been one of the floors of the Union Bank Building into a huge Dumpster.
"No ..." Rune stopped in the middle of the congested sidewalk. Several businesspeople bumped into her before she stepped back. "Oh, no." Her hand went to her mouth.
The demolition company had taken down most of the building already. Only part of one wall remained. The stubby dozer was shoveling up masses of shattered stone and wood and metal.
Rune said, "How could they do it?"
"What?"
"They tore it down. It's gone."
Rune stepped away from Stephanie, her eyes on the men who worked the clanking jackhammers. They stood on the edge of the remaining wall, forty feet up, and dug apart the masonry at their feet. She glanced up the street, then walked slowly across it, to the plywood barricade that shut out pedestrians from the demolition site.
She couldn't look through the peepholes cut by the workers; they were at a six-footer's level. So she walked into the site itself through the open chain-link gate. A huge ramp of earth led down to the foundation where the truck holding the Dumpster idled. There was a resounding crash as the tons of rubble dropped into the steel vessel.
Stephanie caught up with her. "Hey, I don't think we're supposed to be here."
"I feel weird," Rune told her.
"Why?"
"They just destroyed the whole place. And it was so ... familiar. I knew it so well from the movie and now it's gone. How could they do it?"
Below them, a second bulldozer lifted a huge steel-mesh blanket and set it on top of a piece of exposed rock. There was a painful hoot of a steam whistle above their heads. The bulldozer backed away. Then two whistles. A minute later the explosives were detonated. A jarring slam under their feet. Smoke. The metal blanket shifted a few feet. Three whistle blasts--the all-clear--sounded.
Rune blinked. Tears formed. "It's not the way it should be."
She stooped and picked up a bit of broken marble from the bank's facade--pinkish and gray, the colors of a trout, smooth on one side. She looked at it for a long time, then put it in her pocket.
"It's not the way it should be at all," she repeated.
"Let's go," Stephanie urged.
The bulldozer lifted the mesh away and began to dig out mouthfuls of the shattered rock.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
She'd wrapped it up, the bracelet.
But then walking up to Third Avenue--past the discount clothing stores, the Hallmark shop, the delis-- she'd decided the wrapping paper was too feminine. It had a viney pattern that wasn't anything sissier than you'd see in the old Arabian Nights illustrations. But Richard might think they were flowers.
So halfway to his apartment she slipped her hand, with its newly polished nails--pink, not green or blue, for a change--into her bag and tore off the paper and ribbon.
Then, waiting for the light on Twenty-third Street, Rune started to worry about the box. Giving him something in a box, something supposed to be, what was the word?, spontaneous, seemed too formal. Men got scared, you gave them something that was too premeditated.
Goddamn men.
The nails went to work again and opened the box, which joined the crumpled Arabian paper in the bottom of the leopard-skin purse. She held the bracelet up in the light.
Wait. Was it too feminine?
Did it matter? He was a philosopher knight, remember, not the kind killing peasants with a broadsword. Anyway there definitely was something androgynous about him--like Hermaphroditus. And now that she thought about it, Rune decided that was one of the reasons they were so compatible. The male-female, yin-yang was in flux for both of them.
She put the bracelet in her pocket.
See, what it is, I was buying one for me--remember I told you I love bracelets, so what I did was I saw this one, and it looked too masculine for me and I thought, well, it just occurred to me you mig
ht...
Rune stopped for the light. She was in front of an Indian store, sitar music and the smell of incense flooded out into the street. The light changed.
See, I got this special deal at a jewelry store I go to. Two for one. Yeah, no shit. Amazing. And I thought: who do I know who'd like a bracelet? And, guess what? You won...
Crossing the street.
Then she saw his apartment building a block ahead. She tried to be objective. But was still disappointed. It was a boxish high-rise, squatting in a nest of boxish high-rises, a little bit of suburbia in Manhattan. She couldn't picture her black-clad knight living among tiny widows and salesmen and nurses and med students from NYU.
Oh, well ... She continued along the sidewalk and stopped outside his building.
Hey, Richard, would you like a bracelet? If not, no big deal, I could give it to my mother, sister, roommate ... But if you'd like it ... It's a pretty radical design, don'tcha think?--take a look at it.
Rune stepped away from the building and looked at her reflection in the window.
Oh, a bracelet? Rune, it's fantastic! Put it on me. I'll never take it off.
She polished the silver on her sleeve then dropped it into her pocket again.
Oh, a bracelet. Well, the thing is, I never wear them....
Well, the thing is my girlfriend gave me a bracelet just like this the day she killed herself....
Well, the thing is I'm allergic to silver....
Goddamn men.
Seeing him, with that dark hair and the long French face, that crazy electricity hit her again. She knew her voice was going to shake, and she thought, goddammit, get this under control.
What's best? Flirty, surprised? Seductive? She opted for a neutral "Hi." She stood in his doorway. Neither of them moved.
He gave her one of those scary we're-just-friends looks. He almost seemed surprised to see her. "Rune, hey, how you doing?"
"Great, good.... You?"
Hey, how you doing?
"Okay." He nodded and she saw he was definitely uncomfortable. Though he kept the smile on his face. There were major explosions in her. Wanting to vaporize away, wanting to ease her arms around him and never leave. Mostly she wondered what the hell was wrong.
Silence, as an elderly lady with a jutting, sour mouth walked her cairn terrier past, glancing disdainfully at them. Richard said, "So how's the video business?" He looked her up and down. Didn't say a word about the new outfit. Glanced at the earrings. Didn't say anything about them either.