On the Stairs

           OneofthethingstheyhadsoldtoswelltheirliquidassetsalittlebeforemovingfromVermonttoColoradowasJack’scollectionoftwohundredoldrock’n’rollandramp;balbums;theyhadgoneattheyardsaleforadollarapiece.Oneofthesealbums,Danny’spersonalfavorite,hadbeenanEddieCochrandouble-recordsetwithfourpagesofbound-inlinernotesbyLennyKaye.WendyhadoftenbeenstruckbyDanny’sfascinationforthisoneparticularalbumbyamanboywhohadlivedfastanddiedyoung…haddied,infact,whensheherselfhadonlybeentenyearsold.

           Now,atquarterpastseven(mountaintime),asDickHallorannwastellingQueemsabouthisex-wife’swhiteboyfriend,shecameuponDannysittinghalfwayupthestairsbetweenthelobbyandthefirstfloor,tossingaredrubberballfromhandtobandandsingingoneofthesongsfromthatalbum.Hisvoicewaslowandtuneless.

           "SoIclimbone-twoflightthreeflightfour,"Dannysang,"fiveflightsixflightsevenflightmore…whenIgettothetop,I’mtootiredtorock…"

           Shecamearoundhim,satdownononeofthestairrisers,andsawthathislowerliphadswelledtotwiceitssizeandthattherewasdriedbloodonhischin.Herhearttookafrightenedleapinherchest,butshemanagedtospeakneutrally.

           "Whathappened,doc?"sheasked,althoughshewassuresheknew.Jackhadhithim.Well,ofcourse.