Chapter 2

Several hours later they were overfed and happy after steaks at Delmonico's. Jarrod knew of a Gentlemen's Club nearby where they could smoke cigars, drink brandy and talk over plans for the rest of their visit, so they wandered down the street with Heath trying not to gawk too much at the people – especially the ladies on the corners - and the buildings and the traffic in the streets. They wandered into the club, where the maître d' took one look at them and burst out, "My God, it's Jarrod Barkley!"

Jarrod remembered the man immediately. "Clive? Clive Ormand?! Is that you, you old reprobate?"

"It is!" the tall, thin man said as they warmly shook hands. "I thought you were staying back out west! What are you doing in town?"

"Showing my little brother around," Jarrod said. "Heath, this is Clive Ormand. If you need to know anything about this town, he's your man. Clive, my brother Heath, on his first trip to the big city."

Clive offered a hand to Heath, and he took it.

"Brandy and a cigar or two, right?" Clive said to Jarrod.

"Some things never change," Jarrod said.

Heath was a little baffled. "Clive, how can you remember my brother after all these years? I mean, he didn't spend a whole lot of time here, did he?"

Clive showed them to a pair of leather armchairs with a small table in between. "No, but a good maître d' remembers everything, and I've been blessed with the best memory this side of the Mississippi. If you ever come back here, even if it's after another twenty years, I'll know you right away."

Clive seated them and waved for someone to take care of them as Jarrod slipped him a hefty tip.

"I'll talk to you later, Jarrod – it's good to see you again," Clive said and left to go back to his station.

"All right, I know how Clive remembers you, now how come you remember him?" Heath asked.

Jarrod leaned his head back and looked back through the years. "When I said Clive knows everything about New York, I meant everything. I was – shall we say, interested in some female company but not with any potential diseases attached. He took care of getting me one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life, and I had one of the most memorable evenings of my life. DO NOT TELL THIS TO MOTHER."

Heath laughed.

Jarrod went on. "The other thing about Clive and his memory – he's established a network of people he can go to for any information he wants. He's even come to me a few times to check somebody out in San Francisco."

Heath whistled. "And I'm guessing he makes some pretty hefty tips on this sideline business he has going."

Jarrod nodded. "You bet he does. BUT – Clive is somebody you don't tell Mother about. This sideline business isn't exactly on the up and up, if you know what I mean. We don't need to clutter up Mother's opinion of my network of associates. She doesn't know everything about the types I deal with – though she probably has her suspicions. I don't want her know too much for sure. She'd only worry and – she'd probably take it out on my hide."

"How am I gonna remember all these things I'm not supposed to tell Mother?"

"Well, let's just assume you'll have some of your own by the time we leave here. You remember mine, and I'll remember yours."

A young man arrived with two snifters of brandy and asked what kind of cigars they wanted. Jarrod ordered two of the kind he saved for special occasions.

Heath caught something in the way the young man looked at him. "Uh, Jarrod – "

Jarrod caught it, too. "Yes, I saw. Just remember you're in the big city, boy. Be careful what signals you give out and to whom you give them."

"Hmm," Heath said.

"Now," Jarrod said. "You need to decide first if you want to do some cultural things in town, or if you're more like the sailor on shore leave."

"How about something in between – like some female company without worrying about diseases, and a little of that part of town that's not sunshine and roses, and maybe some theater thrown in for things we can tell Mother about."

Jarrod laughed. "Sounds like a plan. We'll have a chat with Clive before we leave."

Heath asked, "Jarrod, just how do we be sure – there are no diseases involved?"

Jarrod smiled. "These ladies are not – shall we say, plying the trade that you might see on the corner. Believe it or not, you can get anything in New York, and that includes beautiful women you just want to have on your arm for an evening, nothing more. And the kind of ladies Clive can get for us – you don't get them without references, both personal and bank references. Clive and his memory have connections all over this country. Since he's used me as a source, he's probably checked me out a few times over the years – he keeps up on people all the time. Believe me, by the day after tomorrow he'll know everything about us from our bank balances to how many times we saw the doctor this year and what for. These ladies and their employers are as wary about diseases as we are. You will not be enjoying anything but their company for a few hours. If you want something else, that's another marketplace, and – Clive can get us to that one, too."

"Well, let's leave that thought until later, but you still don't want Mother to know we're seeing these – ladies?"

Jarrod shook his head and accepted the cigar brought to them. "Only because if we told her what kind of ladies they were, she'd never believe us."

Heath laughed yet again.

Jarrod allowed his cigar to be lit and gave it a puff. He nodded to the man who brought it, and the man gave a cigar to Heath. Jarrod said, "Tomorrow we'll wander over to Union Square and check out the theater scene. A little Shakespeare might do you good."

"Uh – is there something in a language I can actually understand?"

"I'm sure there is, but don't give up on Shakespeare until you actually see it and hear it performed. It's a kind of language that only comes alive once it's off the written page. If the play is right, you might like it."

"Well, I'll leave that up to you, big brother. You always were the cultured one in the family."

They smoked and drank in silence for a while. At one point, Jarrod spotted Clive looking their way, and since he wasn't busy, Jarrod motioned him over. They spoke so quietly to each other that even Heath did not hear them, but Clive smiled, nodded, and accepted another hefty tip.

"Friday evening," Jarrod said, "we will enjoy an evening at the theatre with a couple lovely women, then a late dinner and then perhaps a carriage ride in the park uptown."

"What you got in mind for tomorrow?" Heath asked.

"Union Square, and maybe a visit to one or two of those parts of town that have no roses. I want you to understand as much as you can in a few days about what life in the big eastern city is like, for those of us with money and for those of us without."

Heath nodded. Then he looked around the room, and that well-dressed men drinking and smoking together, talking and laughing, being waited on hand and foot. Yes, he thought seeing some of the less well-heeled people in this town was a good idea. Somehow, he thought he might actually feel a little more at home with them.

He had no idea how different being poor in New York was than being poor in California. He would find out.

XXXXXX

They were tired from traveling, and eating, and drinking, by the time they got back to their rooms at about 11. The suite had a bedroom for each of them. Jarrod used the private facilities first and turned in, saying something like "This kind of evening was a lot easier when I was a younger man," before he disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door.

Heath laughed again, then cleaned himself up and got ready for bed. It took him a moment to figure out how to extinguish the gaslight in his room, but as soon as he did and turned to climb into bed, he noticed the nighttime view outside his room.

His was the room on the corner of the hotel. He could see in two directions, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Small lights everywhere, up and down the streets, from distant buildings and out on the streets themselves, as far as he could see. Some of them seemed to be twinkling, and he realized that was probably caused by tree branches moving in the breeze in front of them, but it was a magical effect. It was like the stars had come down to earth and settled in this place, down below him instead of up above him. This city had placed the stars at his feet.

He lay down in bed but did not go to sleep right away. Excitement, and the change in time that happened as they crossed the country, still had him somewhat awake.

He thought about the day he had shared this dream to come here with his brother. Such hard, hard times Jarrod had been going through for what seemed like forever. Heath had found him at his wife's grave and struggled for a moment with what to say to him about it as they rode away, and that was when he decided to share this dream of coming to New York.

He thanked whatever angel whispered in his ear that day. He knew he was never going to forget this time here in this city with his oldest brother. They seldom had time one on one, together as brothers, when there was not some trouble brewing. They could hardly ever just enjoy each other's company. He knew he was never going to forget how the smile would not leave Jarrod's face all day. And how it would not leave his own. He was still smiling when he fell asleep.