Lights Out

“My grandfather went to Groton and Yale, if that’s what you’re referring to. But how did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.”

Raleigh studied him for a few moments in a way that again reminded Eddie of Brad Packer: not quite smart enough. “Groton yes, Yale no,” said Raleigh. He picked up his beer, drank.

Eddie went to the sideboard, got the Armagnac bottle, poured himself a glass. “Ever had Armagnac?”

“Of course.”

“Every night in the dining halls of Groton,” Eddie said.

“If you want to think in stereotypes.”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything like that.” Eddie was starting to feel manic, as though something exciting were about to happen and he couldn’t wait. He raised his glass.

“Here’s to USC,” Eddie said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a toast, to a fine institution.”

Raleigh took a sip. “That’s where I went to college.”

“I almost went there myself.”

“Did you?” Raleigh took another sip, bigger this time.

“Things didn’t work out. There was a whole chain of events, if you follow me.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Would it help if I said that the first link in the chain was something that happened between you and Jack?”

Raleigh was still. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What happened between you and Jack.”

Raleigh took a big drink. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“I told you-out of town.”

“Out of town where?”

Eddie was silent.

“Why are you covering for him? You should be on my side. He’s such a bastard.”

“Watch it.” The warning came from Eddie’s own lips, but it took him by surprise.

Raleigh looked surprised too. “Watch what?”

“Watch what you say about him.”

Perhaps this time he didn’t say it with enough conviction. Raleigh started to laugh. He was still laughing when the door opened and Jack walked in.

He had on a long coat of somewhat Western cut-the kind a rich cattleman might wear-and he was smoking a cigar. “What convention is this?” he asked.

“Convention?” said Raleigh.

Eddie wasn’t sure what the remark meant either, but if the reference was to ex-cons he didn’t like it. Jack took off his coat. Underneath he wore faded jeans, a polo shirt, and Topsiders with no socks.

“Been away, Jack?” said Raleigh.

Jack didn’t answer the question. Instead he eyed Raleigh’s face and said, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

Jack’s gaze went from the pink-stained towel on the table to Eddie. Eddie smiled a noncommittal smile.

“Been away?” Raleigh repeated.

“Away?”

“Your brother here mentioned you were out of town.”

“You said that, Eddie?”

Eddie nodded.

Jack puffed his cigar. “Does Brooklyn count?”

Raleigh stood up. “I want to talk to you, Jack.”

“Talk.”

“In private.”

“How ill bred.” Jack smiled around his cigar. Eddie could see he was in a good mood. Jack came over to him, gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “You don’t mind, bro?”

Eddie shook his head. Bond peered doubtfully at a glass of red wine. Jack picked up the remote and switched him off.

Jack and Raleigh went in the bedroom. The door closed. They talked in low voices for a few minutes. They came out. Now Raleigh was smoking a cigar too.

“How about a celebration?” said Jack.

“Of what?” Eddie asked.

“You being here. Good enough?”

“Isn’t it a little late?”

“In this town? Let’s show him the kind of fun you can have in the city that never weeps.”

“Whatever you say,” said Raleigh.

“As long as we don’t leave your ankling area,” Jack added. Eddie saw that his brother was a bit manic too.

Raleigh almost managed a smile. He drained his glass and said: “Let’s go.”

“This is supposed to be the latest,” said Jack, as they entered a club; so new that the sign was still clad in protective canvas.

Inside was a world of light, without fixed boundaries or dimensions. Floors, walls, ceilings didn’t exist; there were only curves, rounding into one another. And everything had a glow: pearly in the lower regions, shading up through greens and blues to indigo above.

A man dressed in a silver space suit greeted them. He spoke through a speaker in his helmet. “Welcome to Brainy’s,” he said. “Fifteen-dollar cover, two-drink minimum. The official opening’s not till tomorrow, so please bear with us.”

He led them to a table with a translucent surface that flickered in black and white, like snow on a TV screen. They sat in almost invisible clear-glass chairs. Mounted on the tabletop were concave viewers, the size of a human head. “Look in those,” said the man in the space suit. “Maneuver by sticking your right hand in those slots and experimenting. The waiter will be around to take your orders.” His gaze lingered on Eddie for a moment before he left.

“What the fuck is this?” said Raleigh.

“Five million dollars’ worth of software,” Jack replied.