Chapter 15

The next morning, Paul reported to the radio station, met his new "boss," the soon-to-be-departing Arthur Bidwell, and, before being briefed on his new duties, learned what he could about the availability of cheap furniture in Nutley, New Jersey.

Bidwell, eager to depart forever to take up his new duties on a 10,000-watt Jemison flagship facility in Chillicothe, Ohio, offered to sell Paul some of his own furniture. Foreseeing the need for delivery services, Paul politely declined and ended up renting all the essential items from a used furniture vendor in the neighborhood.

A phone call to Cindy Pooler secured the services, back at the apartment building, of Whatshisname, the same teen-aged kid who'd carried in his bag the day before. Cindy would arrange for The Kid to have a key to Paul's unit, and to meet the furniture truck when it arrived.

Paul figured another Alexander Hamilton would cover it.

By late in the morning, Paul was back at the station and prepared to focus his attention on his new job. WNUT-AM wasn't nearly the scurvy place that its owner, Wendell Jemison, had described. The old man seemed to have a genuine talent for downplaying everything -- at least everything he personally owned as a minor-league entrepreneur. His apartment building hadn't proved to be as tawdry as Jemison had suggested, and his radio station, albeit a low-powered AM outlet, was, from all appearances, well-appointed and efficiently run.

While this made Paul happier about his decision to work there, it also increased the level of anxiety he felt about the responsibilities he would have in managing the place. He no longer felt that a failure on his part would be inconsequential; the station was, after all, a going concern.

Advertising, Bidwell explained, was the lifeblood of any radio station, but, happily, selling, and producing, the advertising was the responsibility of Jemison's ad salesmen, both local and regional. All Bidwell (and, later, Paul) had to do was keep the station on the air, assure that FCC logging rules were obeyed, and see to the continuity of daily programming. "You decide to stay in radio, and want to make any money," Bidwell advised, "you need to get into the advertising end."

There were two other station employees who had on-air responsibilities. Both of them -- a boy and a girl -- were ridiculously young and looked like fugitives from a junior high school somewhere. But they were, Bidwell informed Paul, entirely adequate to the task in their capacities as professional radio broadcasters.

As Paul would learn in the ensuing days, the two teeny-boppers, when actually on the air, sounded like mature adults, and both of them did, indeed, appear to be handling their duties quite competently.

Bidwell, although terribly eager to skip town, was a good teacher and an easy person to work with. Clearly, it was he who had trained these children so well that they could handle adult duties as on-air personalities.

By the time Paul was scheduled to start attending night classes in Manhattan, he had at least made inroads at learning his new, and his future, duties at WNUT.

Three weeks after Paul's arrival in Nutley, Bidwell said his final goodbyes, and Paul was the new Station Manager. The departing manager provided an Ohio phone number and promised faithfully to be available for consultation.

Paul had, by then, already completed his first two weeks at radio school and, although weary, he had positive feelings about his twin decisions to take the radio station job and partake of professional training at the school.

It was now Saturday night, he had the next 36 hours of freedom from work and school, and he was waiting for the arrival of Lois' Amtrak train from Philadelphia. Life was looking pretty damned good.

This would be his and Lois' first reunion since he'd left Philly. It had been their longest separation since his discharge from the hospital. As much as Paul looked forward to the dinner reservations he had made at Tavern on the Green, what he really looked forward to was their hotel reservation, a little later.

He hoped Lois was as eager as he was.

The train, of course, was very late, and Paul had to call the restaurant and attempt to arrange a later dinner reservation. But it was Saturday night, and the attempt was unsuccessful.

OK. Not everything went perfectly, every time. New York was full of restaurants.

When she finally arrived, he broke the news that his "special" dinner plan had fallen through, courtesy of Amtrak.

"We'll fake it," Lois said, unperturbed. One of the things Paul liked best about Lois Silverthorn was that she could roll with the punches, big or small. "What's our hotel?"

"The Algonquin," he said.

"Well! Why not just go there? Reservations at the hotel's own restaurant won't be impossible -- at least, not for guests of the hotel! And if they are impossible, well, there's always Room Service!"

"Let's do it!" Paul said.

Even without Tavern on the Green, even with the late start on their reunion, it was an evening Paul wouldn't soon forget. Lois' ardor turned out to have been undiminished by her presumably strenuous duties back at the law firm. Paul's early weeks as a working stiff had been exhausting, but his adrenaline levels were up -- way up -- in anticipation of this night.

The restaurant at the hotel said they'd be able to accommodate them with only a 45-minute wait, but Lois quickly nixed that in favor of Room Service. They placed their dinner order before even leaving the lobby.

When their dinner arrived, Paul, his artificial limbs removed, was already in bed. Lois, just to arouse Paul's ardor a little more, wore only a bath towel when she went to answer the waiter's knock. It was a large bath towel, but then, Lois was a large girl.

The waiter, a middle-aged Latino gentleman, didn't work too hard at disguising his interest.

Lois just gave the man a big smile and let him look.

Paul, sitting up in the bed, signed for the check and the tip, and the waiter, reluctantly, withdrew.

"I wanted to flash him," Lois said, as soon as the door was closed.

"I think you did. There was a little bit of extra Lois showing there, at the bottom of the towel... I didn't realize you were such a tease," Paul said.

Lois let the towel fall to the floor and, completely nude, started setting up their room-service dinner where Paul could reach the portable table without leaving the bed.

"This looks very good," she said.

"It does, but if you don't put on a robe, I'm not going to be able to concentrate on mere food."

"Well, I'm starving," she said, "so you be good, for my sake, anyway. You can have me for dessert."

"I'm starving, too," Paul admitted. "Anyway, just being here, just having you here with me, is enough."