Page 11 of Blue Umbrella Sky
“Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.” Billy wished he could reel the words back in. They seemed both ungrateful and cruel.
The man gave him a broad smile, revealing very even white teeth. Dentures?
“I know you better than you think.” He chuckled. “I’m a busybody. Jimmy Stewart inRear Windowminus the crutches and Grace Kelly. I keep an eye on my neighbors. You’re one of the more interesting ones.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” The guy turned to look out through the double plate glass doors a few steps down from where they stood. “You want to go outside? This place gives me the creeps.” He winked. “Bad memories.”
Wordlessly, Billy followed him out the door. Morning had managed to rise, despite Billy’s troubles, and it was already hot and humid as only a summer day in Chicago can be. The sky above was not a pretty shade of blue but a dirty white bowl turned upside down. The sun was a feeble yet paradoxically intense sphere of paler white to the east. The air was heavy with exhaust fumes. Trash lay in the gutters.
Billy felt light-headed, a little dizzy. He wanted two things—a drink and a cigarette. But he didn’t dare ask this guy for either. After all, he’d done enough already. But Billydidneed to know who his savior was this particular summer morning.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Billy said, “But you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name. And I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t know yours.”
“Jon. Jon McGregor. I live on the fourth floor, facing the courtyard.”
“Sorry, I must have forgotten.”
Jon shook his head. “No, you didn’t forget. You never asked.” Jon didn’t seem accusatory when he said this—just stating a fact.
Still, Billy felt a little rush of shame.
“Thank you for coming down here and bailing me out. How did you even know I was in jail?”
Jon took a moment to answer. From his pocket he withdrew a pack of Marlboro Reds and a black disposable lighter. Billy wanted to drop to his knees in gratitude when he offered the pack. Trying not to appear too eager, Billy grabbed a smoke and the lighter and lit up. “Thanks,” he said, exhaling a blue cloud that hung motionless in the moist air.
“Welcome.” Jon lit up, blew the smoke away from Billy’s face. “For both.”
“So, how did you know?”
“Let’s go for a little walk,” Jon said, turning and beginning to walk north. “I know a place that serves a mean cup of joe. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
What I could use is a shot and beer. An eye-opener, as my dad used to say.“Okay.” Billy fell into step alongside Jon.
They walked in silence, smoking, until Billy could take it no longer. “But seriously, man, how did you know I was in jail? And why on earth would you want to bail me out?” The words “There’s no way I can pay you back” were already on his lips before he snatched them back, recognizing them for how worthless they were.
Jon stopped, turned to Billy. “I caught your set last night.” He grinned. “Started out good. Real good. You remind me a little of Boz Scaggs.” He chuckled. “You probably don’t even know who he is.”
“Before my time, but sure I do. I’ve been known to sing ‘We’re All Alone’ inspired by him. And thank you—old Boz has a great voice and some style.”
“Good song. Rita Coolidge does it better, but I’d like to hear your take sometime.” Jon stared out at the street, finishing his smoke. “As I said, you started out good, but then—”
“The drinking got the better of me,” Billy interrupted him before he could say words to that effect.
Jon nodded. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“And to add another question to the pile, how did you even know I was singing? At Roosters, for Christ’s sake?” In his mind’s eye, Billy pictured the front of the sad little dive, with its blacked-out front window and its flashing neon Old Style beer sign.
Jon laughed. “You told me. Friday morning. We passed in the courtyard. Invited me to come out and see your Rogers Park debut.”
Billy scratched his head.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“Not a clue.” Billy didn’t have even the slightest recollection of the encounter, which made him wonder what else he’d forgotten, what events just slipped below the psychic surface without a ripple.
“I was lugging, like, four bags from Jewel. Wore a diamond tiara and had a white gardenia behind my ear. Smoking a cigar. Clown shoes?”
