Early Warning

It turned out that his name was Lucas Jordan; he lived in Oakland, too, only about three blocks from their house. He worked as a house-painter and was also in a band — he played drums. Janet told him, “I knew a guy once who was in a band. He said that the drummer had to be the most boring and reliable guy in the band, the only one who never smoked dope.” Lucas Jordan said, “Did this guy know me?” He invited her to come the next night to the bar where they played, and she did, taking Marla with her. The bar was a dive, but the sound system was good, and she fell right in love with Lucas Jordan, who sat on his stool behind the bass drum and never let up, never lost the tempo, never stopped driving everyone in the bar forward into the future, beat by beat.

1974

HENRY CALLED the number at the restaurant where Janet worked and said it was an emergency. The voice on the other end of the line said, “Oh, God! You’re kidding, what?” and Henry said, “Janet, the emergency is that I’ll be staying at the Mark Hopkins Hotel from June 3 to June 8, and I want you to come have lunch with me one of those days.” And the voice said, “Oh, for God’s sake, Uncle Henry!” But she said yes, and then he slipped in, “Bring the boyfriend,” and she giggled but didn’t say no. Philip had never been to California, and as a summer adventure, he wanted to drive down the coast in a rented car. Philip and Henry would spend a week in San Francisco and Napa before Henry flew back for summer school and Philip embarked upon his journey, which was to end at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

Their room overlooked the drop of Mason Street toward the flatter, more relaxing areas. Earthquakes? They might imagine the hotel swaying back and forth like a sapling in a storm, but it wasn’t going to do that — even the fourteenth floor was original. Philip thought it was exciting, just the way he thought a tornado in Chicago might be exciting.

At noon, Henry positioned himself in sight of the hotel entry, in an overstuffed chair with a tall back. He had sent Philip away with instructions to meet them across the street at the Fairmont at one. The surprise when Janet came in was not that she was nicely dressed in a respectable outfit — a V-necked green jersey dress with a white jacket and darker-green heels — or that her boyfriend (he had his hand on her ass) was wearing a button-down shirt and a tweed jacket, but that the boyfriend was a black guy with a moderate-sized Afro. They came in together, stopped short, and looked around. Janet’s hair was thick and blond, and her cheekbones had emerged, giving her face more character — she looked more like Joni Mitchell than Linda Ronstadt, but she still looked less like a show-business personality than a lifelong bookworm. He stood up and said, “Janny!” She turned, and the boyfriend smiled. He was really quite good-looking, thought Henry. Janet hurried over, put her arms around Henry. The boyfriend’s name was Lucas Jordan; close up, he looked younger than Janet. His eyes moved around the hotel lobby, unimpressed but observant, as if it were a matter of survival to take in every little thing. In spite of himself, Henry’s spirits rose — he was no longer just checking up on the wayward niece. He held out his hand. “Any trouble getting here?”

“Just a nosebleed,” said Janet. Lucas laughed, and so Henry realized that Janet had acquired some wit, too.

They were seated at their table at the Fairmont when Philip appeared in the doorway. He had bought himself the widest and most outrageous pair of glen-plaid bell-bottoms that Henry had ever seen, as well as a pair of platform oxfords that added two inches or more to his height. Philip greeted Janet and Lucas in his plummiest accent, sat down, and said to Henry, “What do you think? Very Louis Quatorze?”

Henry said, “I think, if the front edge of your trousers gets caught under the toe of your boot, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

Philip ordered the lamb shank, Janet crab cakes. Henry ordered grilled salmon, and tried not to appear too curious about what Lucas would order. He hemmed and he hawed, said, “I can’t decide what looks good.” Janet said, “I almost got the cioppino.” Lucas nodded, and ordered the cioppino. Meaningless. Henry consciously recalled and put away all the feelers he knew he was sending out toward this young young man, this kid that his niece was evidently mad about. He said, “The city looks wonderful from up here. I hated going to Berkeley. Now I don’t understand why.”

Their food was set before them. The sunlight from the window nearby sparkled across it, making each dish look uniquely irresistible. They ate in silence for a while until Philip said, “Do you two have any words of wisdom concerning my peregrination?”

“Where are you going?” said Janet.

“Down the Big Sur coastline,” said Philip.