Appointment Only
At 11:14 that morning, Mr. Pangborn came into the barbershop, Wiley looked up from the racing form. "Morning," he said. He glanced at his wristwatch and smiled. "You're right on time." Mr.. Pangborn did not return the smile. He removed his suit coat wearily and hung it on the rack. He trudged across the clean swept floor and sank down in the middle chair. Wiley put down his racing form and stood. He stretched and yawned. "You don't look so hot, Mr. Pangborn," he said. "I don't feel so hot," Mr. Pangborn replied. "Sorry to hear that," Wiley said. He cranked up the chair and locked it. "Usual?" he asked. Mr. Pangborn nodded. "Okeydoke," said Wiley. He pulled a clean cloth from its shelf and shook it out. "Whatcha been doin' with yourself?" he asked. Mr. Pangborn sighed. "Not much." "Kind o'run down, are you?" Wiley asked, wrapping tissue around his customer's neck. "That's the word," said Mr. Pangborn. "What've you been doing?" "Not a hell of a lot," Wiley answered, he pinned the cloth in place. "Drove up to vegas last week," he made a rueful sound, "lost a pile." "Too bad, Mr. Pangborn.” "Oh, well.” Wiley grinned, “easy come, easy go.” He picked up the electric clipper ands switched it on. “Maria!” he called. She made an inquiring noise in the back room. “Mr. Pangborn's here.” “’Be right out,” she said. Wiley started to work on the back of Mr. Pangborn's neck. Mr. Pangborn closed his eyes. "That's it," Wiley told him. "Take it easy." Mr. Pangborn shifted on the chair uncomfortably. "You sure don't look so hot," said Wiley. Mr. Pangborn sighed again. "I don't know," he said, "I just don't know" "What's the problem?" Wiley asked. “The leg," said Mr. Pangborn, "The back, my right arm, off and on, my stomach.” "Jesus," Wiley said, concerned. "You seen your doctor?" "He doesn't know what it is," Mr. Pangborn answered scornfully. "I don't bother going to him anymore. All he ever does is send me to specialists" Wiley clucked. "That's lousy, Mr. Pangborn." Mr. Pangborn exhaled. "Dr. Rand's the only one who ever helps," he said. "He does?" Wiley looked delighted. "Hey, I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I wasn't sure whether I should even mention him or not, him not being a MD and all. My brother swore up and down he was something else, though.” "He is," said Mr. Pangborn. "If it weren't for him ____." "Hello.” Mr. Pangborn said. Mr. Pangborn glanced aside and managed a smile "Maria," he said. "How are you today?" she asked. "Getting by," he said. Maria set her manicuring table and chair beside the barber chair as she sat down, her bust swelled out against the tightness of her sweater. "You looked tired," she said. Mr. Pangborn nodded. "I am," he said. "I don't sleep to well." "That's a shame," she sympathized. She began to work on his nails. "Well, I'm glad this Rand is working out," Wiley said, "I'll have to try him myself sometime.” "He's good," said Mr. Pangborn, "the only one that gives me relief." "Good deal," said Wiley. It was quiet for a while as Wiley cut Mr. Pangborn's hair and maria did his nails. Then Mr. Pangborn asked, "Business slow today?" "No," said Wiley, "I do it all by appointment now" he smiled, "it's the only way" When Mr. Pangborn had gone, maria carried his hair and nail clippings into the back room unlocking the cupboard, she took out the doll label Pangborn. Wiley finished dialing the telephone and watched her as she replaced the doll's hair and nails with the fresh clippings. "Rand?" he said when the receiver was lifted at the other end of the line. "Wiley. Pangborn was just in. When's he seeing you again?" He listened. "Ok," he said, "give him something for his back and we'll take that pin out for a couple o'weeks, all right?" He listened "and, Rand," he said, "your check was late again this month WATCH THAT!" he hung up and waked over to Maria. As she worked, he slid his hand up inside her sweater and cupped them over her breast. Maria pressed back against him with a sigh, her face tightening "when's the next appointment?" she asked. Wiley grinned, "Not till one thirty," he answered. By the time he'd locked the door, hung up the “Out to Lunch” sign and returned to the back room Maria was waiting for him on the bed. Wiley took his clothes off, running his gaze over her brown body as it writhed on the mattress. “Oh, you Haitian witch!” Grinning at 20 minutes after one, Mr. Walters came into the shop. Removing his coat, he hung it on the rack sat down in the middle chair. Wiley put down his racing form and stood he made a clucking sound. "Hey, you don't look so hot, Mr. Walter's," he said. "I don't feel so hot," Mr. Walter's replied.
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