the left that’s Cher, Burt Lancaster, Roger Moore, Rock Hudson, Richard Burton, Tallulah Bankhead, Chuck Norris, James Mason, Jerry Lewis, Dean Martin, Raquel Welch, Errol Flynn, William Holden, Carole Lombard, Humphrey Bogart, Stan Laurel, and Laurence Olivier. Hoo boy, didn’t think I’d remember all that.”
Some said hi, some just nodded; all looked pleased to see me, though. I could sense the anticipation hanging in the air. And I remember scanning the excited faces and being just a tad dismayed that the female element of the group was by and large not the kind of woman I had seen myself settling down and having children with.
“Hi. . . .” I nodded to the Club, smiling. “Glad to have made it.”
Tony slapped me hard on the back. “Welcome to the Club, Gob.”
“That short for Goblin?”
A woman said this, but I couldn’t see which one, and a few people laughed, which made me relax a little. It already looked like being the fun night Tony had promised.
A big, powerful-looking black guy—Tony called him Stan Laurel—pushed out a seat, and it dragged along the wooden floor. Stan winked at me. “Come and sit here, little guy. You want me to get you a cushion so you can reach the table?”
Laughter erupted again, and I found myself laughing along with them. I remember theatrically slapping my thigh as I took a seat beside the hilarious Stan.
“You wanna high chair instead?”
Tony banged the table, brought things to order.
“I’m gonna let you know a few things about us first, Gob, but after that the stage is all yours.” Tony sat down, swiping a lump of bread from a plate belonging to the woman he called Cher.
Despite the huge grin spreading inside me, I tried my best to look earnest and attentive as Tony spoke.
“For the uninitiated—which is you, Gob—this little Club of ours has been going some three years now. And we’ve got Rock and Roger to thank for that.”
Tony glanced over to Rock and Roger, two handsome blond men clad in black turtlenecks. I wondered if they were twins as a small ripple of applause ran the length of the table. I was starting to relax, enjoying the overriding feeling of goodwill emanating from everyone present. I even found myself clapping along with them.
“Thanks,” said Roger.
“Thank you,” said Rock.
Roger and Rock took the applause like old pros, and I immediately sensed that I was going to like these guys a lot.
“If they hadn’t broken into some student’s pad—without realizing they had both selected the exact same victim on the exact same night—then all of this might never have happened.”
I remember the word victim banging like the Liberty Bell against my forehead, and my whole head seemed to arc back, recoiling from the blow. I sat there, hoping that someone was going to correct Tony and make him say the word he really meant to say.
No one said a thing.
“Anyways, as they both stood there, rooted to the spot, the dumb-ass student woke up, raised the alarm, and the next thing Rock and Roger are escaping together. Rock’s rental car had a flat, and Roger tells him to jump in his sedan and they drive clean across the state line.”
My eyes bulged wider and wider.
“They walked into where we are seated now—this very same bar and grill. . . .” Tony again waved his thick arm as if he were showing a group of tourists around famous Hollywood landmarks. “Even the name—Grillers—was telling them something in a rhyming couplet sorta way.”
I couldn’t shake the roar building inside my head. It didn’t come out as words, but if it had done, then it would have told me: “Get out of here! Now! Get the hell out, you stupid—”
“And they went to one of those two-man booths over there, ordered a meal and a couple of beers.”
“Buds.” Roger nodded at me, making sure I got every detail.
“I had the chicken, Roger had the fish,” Rock added.
I was sure I was going puke.
“So they got talking and decided that they should maybe tell each other the next time they selected a victim—just in case they overlapped again.”
My rented suit felt like it was tightening around me by the second, squeezing the life out of me.
“They talked a lot about why they did what they did, who they really blamed for being turned from ordinary decent people into vicious serial killers.”
My cheeks puffed out at the words serial killers, and I had to force myself to swallow a surging torrent of