‘Last Hotel: A Novel in Suites’: Suite 49

Editor’s Note: The Last Hotel: A Novel in Suites by Sonia Pilcer. This is the 10th installment of her tales of the Upper West Side in the 1970s. Look for it every Friday. To read the ninth installment, with links to previous ones, click here. Of this work, the author Anne Roiphe writes: “Bittersweet, funny, human and humane, a movie surely waits.”

Suite 49

People weren’t supposed to entertain in their hotel suites. The rooms were too small. A fire hazard. Saul wouldn’t be pleased. But what he didn’t know… With great secrecy, Esther invited a few people “to greet the New Year and New Decade.” BYOB. Lenny would bring beer. Faye, Almaden burgundy, and Pincus; Rachel, a bottle of champagne. Esther had slipped an invitation under Reardon’s door, but doubted he would come.

It was almost time. Esther placed the baked brie wrapped in filo dough in a chafing dish. (From Fairway, on Broadway and 74^th, which had everything, cheaper than it cost to make herself.) She also prepared a chocolate fondue with fruit slices. Esther hummed as she placed an embroidered tablecloth over a small glass table and lit a pair of candles.

Was she falling in love with Lenny? How could that be? Lenny: the taxi driver, horse gambler, beer drinker, slob. And yet, she enjoyed him greatly. Esther poured herself a glass of seltzer. Her stomach was nervous.

Lenny arrived at seven, carrying a Budweiser six pack in each arm. He wore a collar shirt, silvery grey silk, and dark flair slacks. His hair was slicked back.

“Da da da da…” He hummed the opening of “Strangers in the Night.”

“You look so –!” she burbled. “Handsome!”

“Aren’t I your gigolo?” He embraced Esther. “You dress me up and take me out. But don’t forget that’s not who I yam.”

“I’ll put the beer in the fridge.”

“Very nice,” he said, looking at the table. “So where is everybody?”

“It’s early. Do you want something?” Esther asked.

“I’ll have a Bud. But don’t move. I’ll get it.” He walked to Esther’s refrigerator. When he returned, he sat down next to her on the couch, clinking his can against her glass. “Hi, You.”

He was so nice to her. And she never had to say a word.

“Why you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“I guess I’m happy to spend New Years with you.”

“Me too.” He snuggled her.

She kissed him on his sensitive spot, running her tongue over his neck.

“Stop!” he cried out. “I almost dropped my beer.”

“God, we’re too old to be having so much fun.”

That’s when the bell rang. Esther opened the door. Faye stood there with Pincus. “Come in, come in,” she said, peering down the hallway. “I don’t want anyone to see.”

Faye put the wine down on the table.

“Hello, Lenny,” said Pincus, shaking his hand. “Happy New Year.”

“Not yet.”

“Soon.” He handed Lenny a large tin of salted peanuts. “Have some peanuts,” he offered Lenny, opening the plastic lid. Then he popped a few in his mouth.

“Wine for you, Faye?”

She nodded. Pincus sat down next to Faye. “The same for me, please.”

“The same for me, please,” Faye teased.

He gave her a pretend punch in the jaw, which turned out to be a smooch.

“Who else are you expecting?” Faye asked.

“I had to invite Rachel,” Esther said. “She might bring a date.”“In her dreams,” Faye said. “Estie, can I have a glass of wine, please.”

“Estie?” Lenny demanded.

“We knew each other at City College. That’s what we called her, Estie.”

“And you?” Lenny asked.

Faye smiled. “Faigeleh. Actually that’s what Pincus calls me.” They exchanged meaningful glances.

“Since we had a lot of Italians in Bensonhurst, I was Leonardo.”

“I vos always Pincus, except,” he recalled. “Except my wife called me Pinkeleh.” He paused, a dark crimson spot appearing on his face. “And now Faigeleh calls me that.”

“I feel like I fell into a shtetl.”

“We live in a shtetl,” Faye declared.

“The hotel?”

“Look, all of us in this room are Jewish, so is Saul, Dr. T.”

“Well, I’m sure Monica isn’t.”

“Probably Fred, the scavenger.”

“And Reardon certainly –-“

“Of course, of course,” Faye said. “It’s not a matter of religion though. Though Lenny Bruce said. ‘If you live in New York, even if you’re Italian, you’re Jewish.’ ”

“Ha,” Pincus laughed.

“The Last Hotel is a vertical shtetl,” Faye continued. “The way we live in our little rooms, how we go up and down the elevator, and meet up in the lobby.”

“And who’s Saul?” Esther asked.

“The Mayor, of course.”

“Have you heard anything about what’s going on with the hotel?”

“What?”

“Pete said that he heard Saul talking on the phone that the hotel might be sold.”

Esther gasped. “Oh, no. I didn’t hear that.”

“I heard something, but I’d check my information if it comes from Pete. He was probably soused,” Lenny said. “Let’s see what’s happening in the world!”

He pressed the remote control button on the TV, a small RCA color. He flicked through several channels until he stopped. Dazzling lights, musical flares, people holding cocktail glasses. A reporter held a mike as a man in top hat, black tuxedo and tails spoke.

“1979. A year to forget,” he declared. “New York subway strike. Soviets invade Afghanistan. And Ronald Reagan is running for President? God help us!” Dick Clark cut him off with an icy smile, then turned to the viewers: “Live from Times Square in New York City.”

“Do you really think Reagan can get elected?” Esther asked.

“Not a chance,” Lenny said.

He leaned back on the couch, threw his arm around Esther’s shoulders. “This was a great idea, Estie. A party at the Last Hotel. As long as I’ve been here, I’ve never heard about anyone having a party here.”

“It’s good to be around friends,” Pincus said, smiling. He wore a new pair of blue jeans and a sports shirt.

“Eat something, guys,” Esther said. “There’s a chocolate fondue with strawberries and pear slices, and brie baked in filo dough.”

“Ever the gourmet,” Faye commented.

Esther dipped a long fork with a pear slice into the boiling chocolate sauce. “Mmmmm,” she said. “Come on! Leonard, can I make you one?”

“Sure.”

“Me too!” Faye demanded.

Esther passed him a chocolate-coated pear slice with a napkin.

As Lenny took a bite, the chocolate dripped on his napkin, on to his pants.

“Oh, no! My new pants!”

“Just a minute.” Esther ran to her kitchen and returned with a damp dish towel. “Here, let me.” She bent down on her knees, rubbing a spot curiously close to his crotch.

Lenny had a big smile on his face.

Pincus squeezed Faye.

“What you do to me,” he said.

Esther stood up. “I don’t think it’ll leave a spot. Anyone else for fondue?”

“Which reminds me of a joke,” Lenny began.

Everyone groaned.

“It’s a little gross, but we’re all adults here, right?”

“Oh, oh,” Esther said, shaking her head.

“Well, it goes like this. This guy, let’s call him Max, is married to Madge. Okay? One day, Max runs into Frank, Madge’s first husband. Frank calls Max over and says, “I guess you’ve gotten used to the stretched out part – where I used to be.”

“Oh, Leonard!” Esther made a face.

“Go on,” Faye said, grinning.

“You know what I think?” Pincus said. “You’re depraved!”

“I warned you. Anyway –“ Lenny paused, a glint in his eye. “Max looks at Frank, his wife’s ex, who is trying to insult her and him. He smiles, answering, “Well, you know, when I get past the part where you were, it’s tight and juicy.”

“That is truly gross, Leonard,” Esther said.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Esther opened the door. Rachel’s perfume entered before she did. She wore a mink coat over a low-cut black dress, and carried a bottle of champagne. “Happy New Year,” she said, looking around.

Everyone greeted her.

“Are you coming from somewhere?” Faye asked.

“A party on East 86^th Street. Beautiful duplex apartment. But I decided I wanted to be closer to home. At the Last Hotel with my friends.”

“We were saying that before. The hotel being a good place,” Esther said, “Though Saul would have a cow if he saw you all here.”

“Did you hear?” Rachel asked. “Saul stormed out of the hotel earlier. He had been on the phone. Gittel said he was screaming on the phone.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Lenny said.

“I heard that one of the partners passed his share on to his son, and retired to Florida.”

“But that shouldn’t matter.”

“You know, Saul. He screams about everything.” Rachel popped open the champagne. “Some French bubbly?” She poured herself a glass, then raised it. “Anyone?”

“What time is it?” Pincus asked.

“Too late,” Faye answered.

“Too late for what?”

“Can you believe the Seventies are over?”

“I can’t believe the Sixties are over,” Lenny said. “Or even the Fifties. That was my era.”

“Ve’re alte cockers,” Pincus said.

“Maybe you are,” he said. “I’m going strong.” He winked at Esther.

“It’s almost the Eighties,” Faye continued, rising to her subject. “It’s so futuristic sounding. I keep thinking how we’re getting closer to Orwell’s 1984. Big Brother… M-C-M-L Triple X. Those are creepy Roman numerals.”

“You’re such an intellectual,” Pincus said, poking her affectionately.

Rachel rolled her eyes. Since her lids were surgically lifted, her eyeballs appeared to fall out of her lavender-slicked sockets.

On the TV, thousands of carousers stood at Times Square, looking up, waiting for the giant ball to drop. There was still a few more minutes.

“Glad I’m not there,” Esther said.

“Where’s the champagne?” Faye asked.

Rachel stood up. “Who needs a glass?”

They all sat down to watch the TV. A group of drunken teenagers screamed into the camera.

After Rachel had poured Champagne in five glasses, she said, “Let’s make a toast.”

Pincus and Faye stood together, holding their glasses, Lenny and Esther next to them. Rachel held up her glass. “What should we toast?”

“The New Year, of course.”

“Okay, bottoms up!” Lenny cried.

At that moment though, something ran across the floor.

“Did you see that?” Esther asked.

“What?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Look!” she screamed. “Oh, my God!”

It was some kind of animal. A huge monster of a rat stood there, beady eyes staring at them. It scurried across the room again.

Esther leaped on a dining chair, hiding her eyes. “I can’t look at it.”

“Come on,” Rachel urged. “It’s just a rat.”

“It’s not in your apartment.”

“It so big!”

“Vot should we do?” Pincus asked. “I never saw such a rat,” he said.

“Hogwash,” Lenny said.

“It’s not like you can use a fly swatter or anything.”

“How about we open the door, and try to chase it out?” Faye suggested.

“How you going to get it out the door?” Rachel said.

The rat made a squeaking sound, then burrowed its body under the skirt of the couch.

Esther unshielded her eyes. “I could call Henry.”

“Let him have his New Years eve in peace.” Lenny stood up. “I have to get something from my place. I’ll be right back. “

“What?”

He ran out the door.

“What’s he doing?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe he has a special spray?” Pincus said.

“This is an evil omen of the coming year,” Faye said.

“The year of the rat,” Esther said, still standing on the chair.

A few moments later, Lenny rushed back into the room, holding a silver pistol.

“You have a real gun?” Pincus demanded.

“Smith Wesson.” He showed him the gun. “Where I drive, I have to have protection.”

“Are you meshugenah?”

“Look, the countdown’s begun,” Faye said, pointing to the TV.

“TEN- NINE- EIGHT- “

“Has it moved?” Lenny asked.

“No, it’s still under the couch.”

Crawling on all fours, Lenny approached the couch. He raised its skirt and peered underneath. “It’s the year of the dead rat,” he said, taking aim.

“SEVEN- SIX…”

Lenny peered into the rat’s shiny, beady eyes, staring back at him.

“You’re DEAD meat.”

“Oh my God!” Esther screamed.

“FIVE -FOUR -THREE–”

Lenny crawled further under the couch.

“TWO- ONE.”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The Times Square ball dropped in a burst of light. The gun fired.

Glowing on the TV screen:

1980

___________

Sonia Pilcer is the author of six novels including The Holocaust Kid. The Last Hotel has been published by Heliotrope Books. She notes: “Serialization, shmerialization. If you want to read THE LAST HOTEL in its entirety, go to Amazon.com.”  Meanwhile, The Edge will be bringing you weekly serialization. Visit Sonia Pilcer’s web site here.