shook his head. “Hell no. I still might decide to flatten your keister, and if I do, it’ll look better if I’m your client.”
“Then you’re paying for all the drinks,” Rocky grumbled.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Reuben mumbled as they made their way out of the office.
It was 11:35 when they walked into Stella’s Pub. Jerry joined them at 12:05. By one o’clock the three men had finished off their third pitcher of beer, to Stella’s dismay, at which point Jerry opened his briefcase, took out a quart flask, and set it on the table. “This, gentlemen, is the finest of fine liquors. It’s in this flask because it eats through glass. My daddy got it from a grateful client moons ago. Kentucky moonshine with the kick of a mule. Two hundred proof, maybe more. Stella, we need some ice water over here!”
Their first toast was to Daniel, their second to the Kentucky moonshiner, their third to Stella, and the fourth and fifth were for the Washington Monument and the White House.
“If anyone lights a match, the three of them will blow up,” Stella hissed to the bartender.
“It’s empty,” Jerry said, peering into the flask.
“You’re rich, buy another one.” Reuben guffawed.
“Champagne, Stella, your finest!” Rocky demanded.
“Two bottles,” Jerry echoed.
“Three!” Reuben yelled, not to be outdone by the Harvard boys.
Rocky hiccoughed. “What we need are three virgins. Stella, we—”
“We don’t have any,” Stella shot back. Reuben snorted drunkenly. It sounded like a good way to end an afternoon.
“On the count of three, gentlemen, uncork your bottles, and the first drink is for Daniel Bishop, a hell of a guy!” Jerry yelled, jumping up on the table, his shirt half out of his trousers and his tie askew.
At two o’clock they toasted Daniel’s imminent arrival. At 2:15 they toasted his belated arrival. At 2:30 they uncorked fresh bottles of champagne and toasted the Three Musketeers, at which point Reuben upended the table, along with Rocky and Jerry. “Don’t make that toast again.” He hiccoughed drunkenly. By 3:15 they had Daniel dead and ready to be buried, and all three were blubbering into their champagne as each offered his own version of a eulogy.
By this time Stella had had enough and sent the bartender to fetch Irene, who took one look at the drunken men and turned to leave.
“Wait a minute, you can’t leave them here!” Stella screeched. “They’re giving my place a bad name. Six parties left because of them, and who’s paying for all this?”
Reuben raised his hand. “I have that honor. These…fine gentlemen have graciously…graciously…I said that…they said I can pay. How much?” He leered at the voluptuous Stella. “And don’t charge us for the virgins. I didn’t get one.”
“Neither did I,” Rocky said, his voice wafting up from the floor. “Jerry had two, didn’t you, old buddy?”
“Yep, I had two,” Jerry said, latching on to Irene. “Just point me in the right direction. I wanna go home and see…I wanna go home and…”
“Take your virgins with you.” Reuben laughed uproariously. “I paid for them, so you can take them, isn’t that right, Rocky?”
“Yessireee,” Rocky said from under the chair.
“I’ll be back for the other two,” Irene said through clenched teeth. “Wait till Mr. Bishop hears about this!”
“Mr. Bishop! We just gave his eulogy.” Reuben sniffed. “A fine man, a gentleman of much renown. My friend and…my friend…and I love him.”
“I love him, too. Where are the virgins you paid for, Tarz?” Rocky squeaked.
“Jerry, the sneaky bastard, took them home,” Reuben grumbled.
“Then, by God, let’s go after him. Help me up. How did I get down here?” Rocky asked, bleary-eyed.
“You fell when you were giving your eulogy. You were looking for dust. Dust to dust, you said. You should clean this place better,” Reuben said virtuously to Stella as he peeled a series of bills from his money clip.
Rocky and Reuben, their arms around each other, lurched to the door and stumbled outside.
“Quick, lock the door before they decide to come back,” Stella called to the bartender.
“Here, here, and here,” Irene said sternly to the three men, motioning for them to sit together on the leather sofa in Daniel’s waiting room. Properly chastised, they sat like errant schoolboys as Irene laced into them.
“You are a disgrace! This is shameful! You and you,” she said, pointing to Jerry and Rocky, “are members of the bar! People saw you! People actually saw you!”
“Did we have the virgins with us?” Jerry demanded, sliding next to Reuben.
“Virgins!” Irene squeaked.
“Those lasses that still have their cherries.” Reuben roared with laughter. Rocky chose to slide off the leather sofa and rolled about on the floor. Irene quickly locked the door, then thought better of it and grabbed her purse, locking the door behind her.
“There goes one virgin,” Jerry bellowed loudly enough to be heard all over the building.
“Shame on you! Shame on you! Shame on you!” Irene called from her position of safety behind the locked door. “Go to sleep, all of you, and I’ll be back in the morning.”
“She sounds like my mother,” Rocky grumbled.
“Nah, my mother sounds like that,” Jerry said, joining Rocky on the floor.
“What are you doing up there, Mr. Hollywood?” asked Rocky. “You too good for us?”
Reuben peered over his knees to stare at Daniel’s two friends. “I wish I had a dog.”
“I had a cat once,” Rocky volunteered, “but it died.”
“I had goldfish. I called them Frick and Frack. They died.” Jerry wept.
“What’d you have, Tarz?” they asked together.
“I never had a dog or cat or even goldfish,” Reuben blubbered.
“Jesus, that’s terrible. Let’s go get him a dog, Rock. A man needs a dog. Goddamn,” Jerry moaned, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“We’ll have to get it tomorrow, that virgin of yours locked us in here,” Rocky slurred.
“What would you call the dog? A boy dog, right?”
“Yeah,” Reuben mumbled. “Maybe…maybe…wha’d you call your cat, so I don’t name my dog the same thing?” he demanded of Rocky.
“Maizie.
