Debi: I should have worn a skirt.
Marty: I should have brought a gun.
– GROSSE POINTE BLANK
Ronnie’s folder was a loving homage to a dead politician. I remembered when I first heard of Senator Anderson. He’d been campaigning at a county fair I was working about ten years ago. William Anderson was a small-town nice guy who spoke from the heart in plain English fused with common sense. Many people compared him to Kennedy with his youth, good looks and optimism. Others saw him as a down-home Bill Clinton. Whatever side you agreed with, almost everyone thought he was presidential material right from the start.
I remember seeing him talk while I ran the Tilt-A-Whirl. The man definitely knew how to work a crowd. And people liked him. He crusaded against big business and corporate America. Anderson came from blue-collar roots and it showed. And everywhere you looked, he was followed by a throng of college students eager to be part of his mission.
I couldn’t blame them. I liked him too. I just wasn’t into politics. Not my thing. Oh, I can chew on an idea for weeks. But politics frustrate me. Not because I can’t understand them…but rather because I do. And then there was the fact that politicians occasionally showed up on the Bombay hit lists. That was part of the problem.
It didn’t surprise me that Veronica had been a follower of Anderson ’s. There was a lot to like about the man. I’d like to think that if he’d lived, he might have made the changes he spoke of. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t. Senator William Anderson had died of a heart attack before he’d had a chance to take the national stage. And the country mourned him as his most ardent supporters cried out conspiracy theories.
“I never said he wasn’t a good man,” I murmured. Veronica tried to slip into the ger unnoticed, watching me as I read her folder.
“You questioned his ideas,” she said as she took long strides to where I stood and snapped the folder from my grasp.
I looked her right in the eyes. “So?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He’s just a man. That’s all.” It irritated me that she had this dead guy on a pedestal. Life was for the living.
“He could’ve changed the world. And he was cut down in his prime.”
I sat on her cot. “So, you are one of the conspiracy theorists, eh?”
Ronnie turned sharply toward me. “It’s not a theory. There’s a lot of evidence that says he was murdered.”
That was something I did understand, in a way. After all, the Bombays have been pretty good about hiding their tracks over the centuries and have tended to be at the center of some conspiracies. It’s the nature of the game.
“Ah, but which conspiracy? The right? The left? Fundamentalists? There are so many.”
Ronnie sat next to me. “Don’t make fun of me, Cy. This is something I’ve always felt very strongly about.”
“I can see that.”
“If they can kill a man like that, what hope is there for someone else to come along and take his place?”
“That’s a pretty bleak thought.”
“I believed in him. I volunteered with the campaign. When I wasn’t studying, I was campaigning. It was my whole life.”
“That’s not much of a life. Living only for other people.”
She didn’t say anything. I felt bad about arguing with her. It was pretty obvious I had cut her to the quick.
“I’m sorry. I have a talent for being argumentative.” It comes with a philosophy degree. Or maybe people who argue just tend toward philosophy. And sometimes they become lawyers. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that.
Veronica stared at me and, deciding I was worthy of continuing the conversation, began, “My parents died in an explosion. I wasn’t really raised by family so much as shipped off to school. I loved learning, but people came and went in and out of my life too much. When Senator Anderson came to town, I found a family in his other supporters. And I really believed in him.”
I took her hand, stroking her fingers as they rested in my palm. “He had a heart attack. It happens.”
She waved her hand over the papers on her cot. “I’ve been researching his death for years. I’m convinced he was murdered. And someday I will prove it.”
“And you are doing this in addition to your thesis? That’s a lot to take on.”
She nodded. “Well, as you’ve seen, I don’t have much of a social life. Mongolia is the first time I’ve been outside the United States.”
“I hope you’ve learned something here.” And I did, too.
“Yes and no.” Ronnie didn’t add to that, and I decided not to push her.
“I’ll help you.” Now, why did I say that? That was strange.
Her eyes flicked up to mine. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ll help you. I’ll help you with your thesis, and I’ll help you with your investigation.”
She stood up quickly. “Why? Why would you do that?”
I stood also. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been a dick. Maybe because I have feelings for you. Maybe I’ve been knocked on my ass too much lately. The fact is, I said I’d help you and I will.”
Veronica threw her arms around me. “Thanks, Cy.”
As I buried my face in her hair, I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
“The naadam is just a few days away,” Chudruk was telling me as I nursed a bruised shoulder. Zerleg, Zolbin and I were now training together, and those boys were a lot younger than I was.
“I know. Look, I didn’t plan to win. I just wanted the experience,” I managed through gritted teeth. My shoulder might have been sprained. And that would suck.
He shook his head. “That is obvious.” He ducked as I playfully tossed my hat at him. “ Yalta wants you to stop messing around with Veronica.”
He had my attention now. “What?”
A wide grin spread across his face. “It will sap your strength.” He punctuated his less-than-great news with a shrug.
“Oh. I see.” And I did. It was a typical requirement made of fighters in all types of disciplines, from boxing to martial arts. The idea was that sex before a fight took away your aggression, making you weak.
“No problem,” I said, rising to my feet. “Tell my zazul not to worry.”
Chudruk laughed as he walked away. He laughed even harder as he passed a very red-faced Ronnie as she came toward me.
“You’ll never guess what Odgerel just told me!”
“That we had to cool it on the sex until after the naadam?” I answered casually, as if I was asking for the time.
You know, I didn’t think it was possible for a person to turn purple with embarrassment. Huh. I guess you really do learn something new every day.
“How…how…” the poor thing attempted.
“Because I just had the same conversation with Chudruk.”
Veronica turned to look at the retreating man. “So that’s why he laughed.” She turned back to me. “Cy, this is humiliating! You mean to tell me they all know?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Really, Ronnie. We’re not in high school. This is hardly scandalous information here.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we are adults. And in most cultures around the world, sex is a natural and casual thing.” I felt a spike of pain in my shoulder and started to rub it.
Veronica walked around me and rubbed my shoulder for me. “Are you saying I’m a prude?”
“Yes.” Uh-oh. The massage stopped. “And no.” It started up again. “You certainly have no problem getting in the mood. But I think your experience with the way other cultures see sex is somewhat limited.”
She said nothing, so I continued. “Remember your reaction to hearing about my sexual past?”
“Yes. I was shocked by the fact that you were some sort of gigolo.”
That made me laugh. “A gigolo? I never accepted money. I think of it more as a rock star with groupies.”
I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was rolling her eyes behind me.
“Oh, yeah. A carney is just the same thing as a rock star.” Was it possible to actually see sarcasm as it floated past you in the air?
“Well, something like that. Anyway, you just have to get past those Midwestern morals and loosen up.”
She slapped me on the shoulder. It took everything I had not to wince. “I admit I’m a bit conservative about sex. And I admit that the romance of this place had its way with my mind…and body.” She walked around to face me. “But I will certainly have no problem with celibacy over the next few days.” Ronnie stuck her tongue out at me and walked away, swaying her hips as she went.
Somehow, I had the feeling that the gauntlet had been thrown. And I was going to lose.