The Homeless Millionaire

My exciting, breakthrough day started with thunder and rain and clouds as far as I could see. Harry opined it would clear up around noon, and returned to his room after breakfast to do his secret private Harry stuff. I was too jumpy to do anything, and spent the next three hours looking through my belongings, and repacking my bag. I put the jean jacket at the very bottom.

Then I looked at the pieces I was to show Chaz and started to go in f.u.c.k.i.n.g circles: one moment everything looked like shit, the next it all looked good. My paranoid pal jumped into action, but I forced him to pull up short. I rolled up the pictures I'd selected earlier and slid them into the art tube and put it away, and spent most of the remaining time wandering from window to window and smoking cigarettes and staring at the overcast sky, willing the clouds to go away.

Harry really must have had a direct line to the weather gods, because around noon white patches began to appear in the grey blanket overhead. The rain turned into a drizzle, then died out. Suddenly, sunlight lit up a mountain peak in brilliant color. It was just a hole in the clouds, but the effect suggested an angel or a prophet or maybe even the Big Guy himself sliding down the rays for one of those top-of-the-mountain shows. But it was just natural beauty, awesome in its simplicity. It lasted for a few minutes and disappeared, as beauty always does.

I heard the door to Harry's room crack open and he came down and joined me at the window. He looked at the weather for all of ten seconds and said:

"It's looking good. Let's get going."

It was actually warmer outside than it had been during the beautiful, sunny weekend. There was a steady breeze weak enough to be pleasant and the rainwater made the air smell sweet. We ran down to Lion's Bay and retrieved the car from the parking lot of the marina shop and drove down to Vancouver to The Space.

The gallery was locked shut but a Back In A Moment sign told us the future still held hope. We repaired to Loretta's, but Chaz wasn't there. Harry put his hand on my shoulder and steered me into a booth seat and ordered two double scotches and two coffees. He said it was his treat.

I had been all worked up about showing my stuff to Chaz and signing the contract and maybe even learning he'd already made a sale. I was so into it that I forgot about other important aspects of my existence. Harry reminded me of one of these by saying:

"You look good. No one's going to recognize you. You know, you even look better with your hair brushed right back. Maybe you should keep that hairstyle."

"Oh f.u.c.k," I said with fresh despair.

"What do you mean? That's good, man."

"Yeah," I said. "Sure. Sorry. It's good."

We drank and smoked and by the time we were leaving I swear I physically felt it whenever anyone gave me a passing look. When someone actually focused on me, it was almost like a soft blow. It was drizzling again outside and that let me put up the hood of my new jacket. I was starting to like this jacket, it was comfortable and warm and I couldn't see that stupid anchor stitched on its b.r.e.a.s.t unless I looked in the mirror.

The Space had reopened, with Melanie looking at us glumly when we came inside. She was wearing the same black crushed velvet mini-dress with long sleeves that she'd worn the previous Thursday. She told us Chaz was away and would remain away for another day: he'd gone to an art auction someplace. I also noticed none of my pictures were on display and I was close to tears when I turned to follow Harry outside. But then Melanie said she had something for me and pulled out a big manila envelope and gave it to me.

There were two copies of my contract in the envelope, ready and signed by M. Space. I excused myself to Harry and spent ten minutes reading every word, sometimes twice. The terms were exactly the ones we had agreed on, and the only thing that threw me off a little was the date on which the contract became binding: the first of December.

That was six weeks away. I asked Melanie about that and she gave me a brilliant smile and explained it would take a while to get my pictures framed, and find the space needed to show them. Her tone suggested she thought she was talking to a retard, so I just signed both copies of the contract and gave one to her along with the pictures I'd brought to show Chaz. She didn't want to take the pictures and said I should PRESENT them to Chaz, but I said I didn't know when I'd be able to come by. I unrolled the one with Chaz drinking a c.o.c.ktail, and told her that this particular picture was not for sale but a gift.

Melanie giggled when she looked at it and suddenly became a lot more cooperative, she even said she'd take good care of my stuff in the meantime. So I guess it all ended well, but when I left the gallery I felt anxious and off-balance. It would be weeks before anything of mine got sold, I'd actually have to get lucky to collect any money at all by the end of the year. And I had about thirty bucks in my wallet and five, no, six hundred coming from Harry. It wasn't a lot to live on for over two months, especially if I had to pay rent.

Harry was surprised that I wasn't jumping up and down with joy, having just signed my first contract, and I had to explain what worried me. He said:

"Listen, you've got to stay at the cottage for at least a month, for reasons we've discussed already. You can even stay there the whole f.u.c.k.i.n.g winter, but I wouldn't recommend that. It gets really cold, all the heating you've got is the fireplace. You gotta sleep in your clothes and inside a sleeping bag AND under a heap of blankets. The mornings are a f.u.c.k.i.n.g horror, it takes a while to get the fire going and another, long while before the room warms up."

"You sound as if you are speaking from experience," I said.

"Yeah, I am. I spent one winter there and nearly went crazy. Wouldn't want to do it again, that's for sure. But you can stay there free of charge if you really want to punish yourself."

He gave me a look when he said that and it made me think he'd meant doing penance for Peter Schmidt. The conversation kinda died at this point and we drove around in silence. We visited Harry's bank, and did plenty of shopping. Harry graciously gave me my hundred-dollar bonus ahead of time, so I could buy a few things for myself. I bought plenty of art supplies and cigarettes and food and booze. I steered clear of Captain Morgan, I got two standard bottles of Canadian rye whiskey and two f.u.c.k.i.n.g big bottles of red Johnnie Walker. I bought Scottish shortbread and Polish sausage and a Hungarian dried salami, just in case, along with a pack of dry biscuits and a couple of big bottles of sparkling water. I blew more than half my money on all that stuff but hell, it would a while before I made it back to civilization.

It was beginning to get dark by the time we got all this shopping done and we drove down to Lion's Bay right away, even though Harry had made noises earlier about dropping by Gina's place. The boat was pretty full with all the shopping we'd brought; Harry had to buy some stuff for work he had to do on the house. His room had a leak that involved putting a patch on the roof and he hoped I could help him with that. I said I would. He'd bought tar paper and wood shingles and a tub of sealant, and it looked as if this was going to be one hell of a major operation.

It got very dark very quickly because of the clouds, and halfway to the island we ran into rain. Harry steered us through expertly, and we ended up next to the pier even though visibility was no more than twenty yards. It must have been raining for a while on the island because it was slippery and muddy, and I went down on my knee a couple of times when I was ferrying stuff to the house. Harry insisted on taking the boat's engine indoors as well, so he was busy taking it off its mounting while I went back and forth like a f.u.c.k.i.n.g yoyo.

We were both beat by the time everything was inside the house, far too tired to do any cooking. I cracked open the Johnnie Walker and a bottle of sparkling water, and we drank that for a while while munching on newly acquired shortbread and smoking cigarettes.

Harry had made it plain earlier that he would be staying at Gina's and his mother's throughout the winter. I told him that I didn't see myself surviving a winter on my own in the cottage. My paranoid pal was kinda disappointed when he heard that. He'd been hoping to have me all to himself for several months.

But Harry approved. He said he was sure I could safely venture forth and rent a place and maybe even find a part-time job without the cops coming in through the windows.

"But I think it won't come to that," he said, sounding just a touch insincere to my experienced ear. "You'll have what, a thousand coming from that stuff you left with Chaz?"

"Maybe five hundred," I told him. "That's if I'm lucky."

"Oh. You sure you aren't underestimating a little? But who cares, it doesn't matter. So you'll have to do a few more pictures. You're gonna have plenty of time, and I saw you bring plenty of supplies."

"Yeah," I said. "I even bought a big dried salami."

Somehow, we both found this very funny. Maybe Johnnie Walker made it so. He was a much nicer guy than Captain Morgan.

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow," I told him, right before I staggered off to bed.

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