Stars Screaming (30 page)

Burk said, “What about—”

“What? I can barely hear you,” Maria said.

Burk raised his voice a notch higher. “
Crazy Love.
What about that for a title?”

“That’s not bad,” Maria said. “I like it.”

“I don’t,” Burk said. “I just wanted to hear how it sounded out loud.”

Maria tried to laugh away the rebuke.

The woman next to Burk had hung up the phone. She was standing outside the booth, looking uncertain in which direction she should move.

“The script’s about love,” Burk said, aware that the woman was listening. “But it’s about other things too. It’s about finding a safe place. That’s what kids and parents are looking for: someplace inside their hearts where they’re not scared; a sacred space. And it’s about family, because without family there is nothing at all.” Burk’s eyes wandered back over to his son. Louie and the tall cowboy were now involved in a serious game of gin rummy. “I know what it’s called,” Burk said, and a weird tenderness crept over him. “It’s called
Take Me Home
.”

As they boarded their flight to San Francisco, Louie tried to convince his father to sit in the front of the aircraft. “It’s safer up front,” he said.

“It’s safe anywhere.”

“Not on the wing, it isn’t. If a bird gets sucked through an engine, it can explode.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen today.”

“I hope not. How about here?” Louie said. He was standing by a row of empty seats.

Burk glanced at a seat number. “I can’t smoke here.”

“You don’t have to smoke, Dad.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“For an hour, you don’t.”

“Back here,” Burk said, guiding Louie toward two rows of seats that faced each other in the rear of the cabin. “You take the window. I need room to stretch out my legs.”

A stewardess with a phony smile moved forward to help Burk stow his carry-on gear in an overhead rack. “What row are we in?” Louie asked her.

“Thirty-two.”

“Oh.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s neither,” Burk said as he dropped heavily into his seat on the aisle. “Right, Louie?”

Louie shrugged, avoiding the questioning looks from both his father and the stewardess. Over the white noise of the engine, Burk heard a familiar-sounding voice. “I work for I. Magnin,” said the woman seated across the aisle, the same woman who was on the phone next to him in the lobby. She was talking to the man in her row: a younger man, dark and slender, dressed in a gray suit. “I’m a buyer in men’s sportswear. What about you?”

“I’m in municipal bonds.”

“
In
meaning what?”

“I trade them. Buy and sell. I’m a broker with Paine-Webber.”

“I see,” the woman said. “Yes.”

The plane began to taxi toward the runway. Louie said, “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry,” Burk said. “We’re gonna be fine.”

The woman across the aisle turned her head, her eyes bypassing Burk’s face. “Why are you scared?” she asked Louie.

Louie remained silent, his eyes shut tight and his elbows digging into the armrest. The woman looked at Burk, staring at him as
if she were trying to pull him into focus. He pointed to the seat number. “Certain numbers frighten him,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Two and three in certain combinations. And some numbers that add up to ten. Like one and nine.”

The aircraft had reached the beginning of the runway. The pilot said, “Flight attendants prepare for takeoff.”

The man in the gray suit checked the number above his seat. “I’m sitting in thirty-two E,” he said in a worried undertone.

“Maybe he should see someone,” the woman said to Burk. Her voice sounded worried too.

“He’s fine. It’s something he’ll grow out of.”

“My birthday’s February nineteenth,” said the man in the gray suit. “What does that mean?”

“That means you’re a Pisces,” said the small well-dressed black man sitting across from him. He wore rimless glasses and spoke with a slight British accent.

The aircraft started down the runway, gathering speed. As they lifted into the air, Burk put his hand on Louie’s shoulder. “We’re up, pal. We’re on our way.”

Louie opened his eyes. He was looking out the window. Underneath the scattered clouds the city glittered in the bright sunlight.

“Do you live in San Francisco?” the woman asked Burk.

“Berkeley.”

“I live across the bay, in Sausalito.”

“I really dig Sausalito,” said the man in the gray suit.

“I teach in Berkeley,” the black man said. “I’m a cultural anthropologist.”

The man in the gray suit looked annoyed. “Anthropologist? I thought maybe you taught astrology.”

The black man made a froggy-sounding laugh. “Astrology. That’s very good. But no,” he said, still laughing, “astrology is just a hobby.”

Louie opened and closed his fists three times. He said, “Thirty is three times ten. But thirty is a good number. That’s how old my dad will be next year.”

“My best friend, Leslie, is a child psychologist. She lives in Berkeley,” the woman said to Burk. “If you want her number I would be glad to give it to you.”

The black man and the man in the gray suit were watching Burk, waiting for him to reply. The seat-belt light blinked off and the stewardess who was sitting near the galley stood up. Burk caught her eye. He said, “I’d like a Bloody Mary.”

“We’ll be serving beverages in a few moments,” the stewardess said, keeping a happy smile on her face but showing just a sliver of irritation in her voice.

Louie said, “Don’t drink too much, Dad.”

Burk put a finger to his lips and Louie hunched his shoulders, apologizing with his eyes.

“What sign are you?” the black man asked the woman sitting across from him. “I’d guess either a Capricorn or a Leo.”

Louie said, “I’m a double Gemini.”

“I’m a Virgo,” the woman said.

“Cultural asshole,” said the man in the gray suit.

“I think that’s enough,” the woman said, disgusted. She unfastened her seat belt and stood up. “Would you mind?” she said to Burk, pointing at the empty seat next to him.

Burk stood up to let her in. “Be my guest.”

The man in the gray suit crossed his legs and smoothed the crease on his knee. His lips were smiling, but there was a hard gleam in his eye. The stewardess came down the aisle and handed Burk a Bloody Mary. “What can I get you?” she asked Louie.

“A ginger ale and a bag of peanuts.”

“I’d like a double scotch on the rocks,” said the man in the gray suit.

“This is a tough time for Pisces,” the black man said. “The Jupiter-Neptune conjunction puts you in the astrological strike-out zone. It can last for months,” he said, trying to look apologetic. “I’d suggest moderation in all affairs. Take no risks.”

Burk glanced at the woman seated next to him. “You were on the phone next to me in the airport.”

“Yes, I know. By the way,” she said, “my name is Barbara Nichols.”

Burk gently squeezed her outstretched fingers. “Ray Burk. And this is my son, Louie.”

Louie turned and gazed up at Barbara with an unchildlike expression on his face. “My mom’s in prison,” he said. “I saw her yesterday. That’s why I came down to Los Angeles.”

The black man grew suddenly tense. “What an odd coincidence,” he said, his eyes blinking rapidly. “On Monday I’m flying to Mexico to interview women who are incarcerated in a jail in Sonora. It’s part of a cross-cultural study of prostitutes, for which I’ve received a rather large grant.”

Barbara glanced quickly at the black man before she refocused her attention on Burk. “Out of curiosity,” she said, “what kind of a crime did—?”

“She shot a guy,” Burk said. He drained the Bloody Mary in one gulp and held the plastic cup in the air, rattling the ice.

Louie tapped Barbara on the wrist. In a whisper he said, “It was self-defense. He was trying to kill her. She gets out in a few months. We’re all going to live together.”

Burk looked down at Louie hard. “I never said that.”

“Not right away . . . but someday.”

Barbara opened the purse in her lap. Her eyes stayed on Burk’s face as she pulled a cigarette out of a fresh pack. The black man leaned across the aisle with a match. “Thank you,” she said, coughing slightly after she exhaled the first puff.

On her way back to the galley, the stewardess took Burk’s cup out of his upraised hand. “One more for me too,” said the man in the gray suit.

Louie said to his father, “Don’t get drunk. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“My mom drinks too much,” Louie said to Barbara. “That’s one thing I remember a lot.”

The stewardess came back with a Bloody Mary for Burk and a double scotch for the man in the gray suit. She looked mildly surprised when the airplane suddenly lost altitude, nearly throwing her into Burk’s lap. A moment later, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “We will be experiencing turbulence for the next five or ten minutes,” he explained, “until we get to our cruising altitude at thirty-two thousand feet.”

Louie was staring out the window, scratching the glass with his fingernails. Under his breath he repeated the number: “Thirty-two thousand.”

Burk glanced at Barbara. She held his look. “He’s been to a psychologist,” he said, after several seconds. “Maybe I should send him to see someone else.”

“I think that would be wise,” Barbara said. “I’ll give you Leslie’s number before we land.”

“I’d like yours too,” Burk said.

Blood rushed into Barbara’s face. “Oh? You would? Well, I’ll have to think about that,” she said, smiling coyly. “But that’s not to say I don’t find you attractive—despite the bruises on your face, and the fact that you were obviously drunk when you got on the plane.”

“I’ve had a rough day,” Burk said.

“I can imagine.”

“I’m not sure you could.”

At that point, Burk described the events leading up to his fight with Jon Warren. Halfway through this story Barbara yawned and arched her back. “Am I boring you?” Burk said, trying not to stare at her plump, pointed breasts.

“I heard all this before, while you were speaking on the phone.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Like you.”

“I was checking out your body,” Burk said, the words coming out of his mouth unexpectedly.

Barbara didn’t seem surprised. “Like you were a moment ago,” she said, her eyes gliding across his lap. “You guys are so obvious.”

“So where does that leave us?” Burk said.

Barbara slid off her shoes and crossed her legs in a way that drew her skirt above her knees. “I don’t know,” she said. “You tell me.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

“Yes.”

Burk stared at Barbara’s face, wondering why he was so attracted to her. It was her smile, he decided. The way it crinkled her eyes reminded him of his mother. “Everyone’s seeing someone,” he said, glancing away. “Until they meet someone else.”

“That’s not always the case. Sometimes people stay together and get married and have kids.”

“I tried that. It didn’t work.”

“Part of it did.”

Burk turned and looked at Barbara looking into his face.

“You’ve got a great kid.”

Burk flinched but didn’t look down when he felt Barbara’s fingers moving lightly over his wrist. “I know,” he said. “He’s the best.”

Burk heard the stewardess laughing noisily in the front of the
cabin. When he looked down the aisle, he saw her standing over a Marine corporal with Native American features. “We’re passing over Big Sur and Monterey on our right,” the pilot said. “And for you golfers on the starboard side, you’ll be able to get a glimpse of Pebble Beach. In just a few minutes we’ll be starting our descent into the Bay Area. Have a great day and thanks for flying PSA.”

“My brother went to Monterey Pop,” Burk said. “He was never the same after that weekend. He was a cop. When he came home he quit the force. I think drugs—acid, especially—had something to do with it. I don’t know, I’m not sure. But I know he changed.”

“I spent my honeymoon in Big Sur,” Barbara said casually, letting her fingers fall away from Burk’s wrist.

“You were married? When?”

“Awhile ago. You look surprised.”

“I’m not.” Burk looked down at Barbara’s fingers, moving nervously on the armrest. She was wearing a thin gold wedding band. “I saw your ring when you got on.”

“Sure.”

“I did. Really.”

There was a small, almost trancelike smile on Barbara’s face. Keeping her eyes away from Burk, she said, “My husband went to language school in Monterey. He was stationed at Fort Ord. We got married in July, a few months before he was sent to Vietnam. I had just graduated from Cal that spring, in 1963, right before the Free Speech movement.”

Timmy Miller had graduated from Berkeley in the same year. Burk wondered if by chance they’d ever met. He decided that the chances were so slim that to bring it up would make him sound stupid. Instead, he asked her where her husband was stationed now.

“In North Vietnam,” she said, in a voice that was empty but not hard. “He’s a POW.”

The woman sitting in front of them turned around and peeked at Barbara through the crack in the seats. The one eye that Burk could see was moist with sympathy.