The Wheel
John Coultas
CHAPTER I
Dinky's tavern was not one of those trendy Manhattan style watering holes. The ambiance was down on its luck: worn carpet, dated leatherette booths, and scarred walnut tables. Dark lighting helped to veil the bars shabbiness. However, Dinky's customers, blue collar guys and low end managers didn't mind. Dinks was broken-in, comfortable, a place for a gent to stretch out his legs, relax with the boys, and of course share a drink.
"Lenny my man, you are first up tonight, the usual?" Dinky called out. The proprietor was not a dinky man, his was one of those names they pinned on a big guy to further accentuate a massive frame. The man consumed most of the space behind the bar as well as a good portion of the oxygen in the room.
As Lenny wove through customers to his assigned booth, he nodded at a few faces he recognized, and grunted to several with whom he had a deeper social relationship. He eased himself into his booth, his corner, his center of the universe. Arms stretched across the top of the booth he was at peace with the world. "Ah." He sighed as Maddie, Dinky's hostess with the mostest delivered his drink. Her tray held high, she grasped the glass, and with a practiced swoop she bent low delivering the drink to her leering customer. Not one drop of liquid was lost in the presentation. She leaned close allowing gravity to provide her customer with a fleeting glimpse of her well rounded adornments, and deep cleavage. Lenny inhaled, and she smiled with satisfaction. Another good tip secured. She departed, commenting with a salacious grin, "Enjoy the Heine," And he did as she swung her way back to the bar.
Sipping at his drink Lenny felt the vibration of his cell phone, he pulled it from his inside pocket, checked the number, a client, not now he thought. "Lenny here," He answered. He listened, nodding in the affirmative. "No problemo, express mail it to you in the morning," He reassured his customer, emailed himself a note, and flipped the phone closed.
#
Lenny
Sanders
Frankie
Decker
Lenny arrives, has beer in hand at booth, phone call--talks about his car and plans for a trip up to Montreal to attend a jazz festival.
"Anyone want to go up to Montreal?" Lenny asked.
"Montreal." Decker said. "Even the penguins freeze up there this time of year."
Sanders sat up straight and leaned forward. "Decker, penguins live at Antarctica, not in North America."
Decker shook his head. "Sanders, it's an expression. I think we all know where penguins live. By the way, I'm sure they have penguins in Canadian zoos."
Sanders began to open his mouth. "Don't Sanders, let's not muddy the evening with arguments." Decker said.
The odd man out in the group, Sanders was never accepted as a full fledged member of the gang. Yeah, he came from the old neighborhood, but he never fit in. Always having to be be right and precise was something that wore on the nerves of his friends.
Lenny glanced at Sanders. "No, I'm not crazy. The concert is in June. We could make a road trip of it, in my car."
"All of us?" Decker asked. Everyone looked to Sanders.
"Come on guys. We always do things together." Sanders lamented.
"Yeah." The others said with little conviction.
Decker turned to Frankie. "Keeping those racing engines in tip-top shape?" Decker asked. Frankie was the mechanic. With the exception of Sanders they had grownup fixing bikes, then moving on to motorcycle and car engines. Frankie was the one with dirt and grease embedded in his hands.
"Yeah. The shop can't keep up with the demands, that's what happens when you know what you're doing." Frankie said with pride.
"How about that toy of yours?"
Frankie smiled. It was more than a toy. He was certain that his adaptation could be a real winner. "I've tested several prototypes, none of them have exploded, and each phase seems to give added performance." Decker had followed Frankie's invention over the years. They both saw the financial promise the new system would yield. It all hinged on a venture capital.
Decker had several accounting clients that might have the money and interest for Frankie's project. "I'll come by your shop and have a look at the changes you've made. Then we need to do some serious negotiations with potential investors."
"Wow, Deck, I can't tell you how much this means to me."
"Don't start counting the bucks yet. This will be a long process." Decker gave Frankie's shoulder a light punch. "Another brew?"
***
"So Lenny how is the market?" Sanders asked.
"You know better than that." Lenny looked around the crowded bar. "I get caught talking about anything associated with my work, no matter how distant, I can get myself fired or worse end up in prison. I sneeze and the SEC could be all over me."
Sanders snorted a laugh. "Man, you're not that important." Lenny gave him a cold stare.
"Frankie, I'm going to get my car tuned up. I swear with all this rain we've been having my spark plugs are loaded up with moisture." Lenny said.
Frankie nodded. "Yeah, you might be getting vapor in through the plugs, collects on the carbon and you misfire. Now if you had fuel injection and electronic ignition you wouldn't have that kind of problem."
Lenny rubbed his hand over his heart. "Frankie, you are wounding me. I love my car just the way she is. She's a classic."
"She's an antique Lenny, and parts are starting to be a real problem for her." Frankie reminded, a painful truth for the owner of a sixty year old car.
Lenny rubbed at his chin. "Hmm, how about those 3D printers. I hear they can print out rare parts."
Frankie laughed. "Can't you just imagine one of those printers spitting out a drive shaft." Frankie wiped at the tears forming in his eyes. Lenny didn't appreciate the humor or the thought of giving up his car for the lack of replacement parts.
"You're brutal Frank."
"So, Sanders, are you keeping the wheels of the city moving?" Lenny enjoyed digging at Sanders, a middle manager, who worked in the lower reaches of municipal services, where he could do the least damage.
Sanders straightened. "I have designed a new form for our department. It accounts for each minute my employees spend working with a client. It is on the computer, so I can see who is working and who is loafing." He smirked. "We have a lot of loafers that need to be weeded out." Firing or laying off employees always inspired Sanders.
Decker arrives
Sanders arrives (no major conflicts, but whiney)
Frankie and Decker talk invention and financing
#
"Still on the clock," Decker, one of the fellas from the hood taunted as he removed his overcoat and slipped into the booth across from Lenny.
"No!" Lenny insisted, "Well, I hope that's it for the night. Decker scanned the room, "Is it just us?"
"So far," Lenny said. "Right back, going to the john." Maddie placed Decker's order in front of him, a cold beer and a frosted glass. "Want I should open it Deck," She asked. She knew the answer, Decker was a connoisseur. Only he poured his beer. It was a ritual. No one interfered.
"Thanks Maddie, but I got it," He smiled. As she sauntered away he relaxed, the anticipation was half the joy. Decker twisted off the cap, listened for the hiss of carbonation, pulled the glass close and poured, not straight down; he angled the glass creating a gentle slope, the liquid tumbled, and rolled down without effort. As the glass filled he gently moved it upright, allowing the brew to build a head, but not too thick, just enough to trap the carbonation.
He leaned back, and studied his drink. He held the glass, testing the chill. He observed bubbles effervescing up through the rich amber fluid. It was a dance, a beautiful rhythmic dance. He inhaled the mild bouquet. And now the climax, the fulfillment, the...
"Decker!" A high pitched whine and a nudge to the shoulder, jarring the hand, jerking the glass and sloshing the head and a good part of the beer onto Decker's manicured mustache, and down his chin. He choked, grasped the glass with both hands and lowered it to the table. His eyes rose to glare at Sanders who was cringing under the unwanted attention. White froth decorated Decker's facial adornment.
"Man, what's the matter, don't have a good word for a friend." Sanders inquired. He had difficulty understanding Decker, they were guys from the old neighborhood, looking to have some fun is all. A pat on the back and this guy goes all ballistic. Sanders sat across from Decker who began patting beer off his face with his handkerchief. Sanders grabbed a coaster, and began tapping it on the table, scanning the room for a friendly face.
"Do you have to do that?" Decker nodded to the coaster. He could see that he had put Sanders into one of his funks, a funk that only time, a long period of time at that would heal.
Maddie reappeared, "Sanders, didn't see you sneak in, usual?" She asked. Sanders gave a sullen nod.
Lenny returned, and with a practiced move he gave the hostess a friendly rub on the backside, and slipped into the banquette. Maddie moved in closer to Lenny, she massaging his shoulder. Lenny wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip. "How about another Heineken for me,and Decker seems to have spilled his over ther, give Deck a refill on me."
"Thanks Lenny. And Maddie could I get a cleanup here." He opened his hands above the beer spill, and shot a look at Sanders.
She rubbed her hip into Lenny as she left. "You boys will be here when I get back?"
"I'm not going anywhere, you going anywhere Sanders?" Sanders frowned back at Lenny. "Eh! There's Frankie." Lenny pointed with his chin to a young fellow approaching, wearing coveralls and a Yankee's baseball cap.
The guys had their booth at Dinky's, as they did at the Midtown Diner. By eliminating the imponderable choices life throws at a person our group of guys simplified life, making it manageable.
The waitress tossed a menu in front of a comatose Decker. He handed it back to her. "Morning Gladys, I'll have the usual."
Gladys pulled her pencil out of her stiffly permed hair, about where her right ear would be. "Two eggs over, rasher of bacon, white toast, and black coffee." She gave him her look. "From the looks of your eyes I better bring the coffee pronto." As she walked away she absentmindedly nodded to Frankie, "Scrambled, wheat, and O.J." Predictability simplified life as well as the lives of those many people who served their needs. They always sat in the same section at Yankee stadium, pizza from Mike's Pizza, Chinese from Mr. Lee's. All the numbers were memorized. It made for a compact, predictable life.
"Decker you look like hell." Frankie slid in next to his friend.
"Thanks that's 'bout what Gladys was saying." He rubbed his face. "Ouch, even my eyeballs ache."
"How's the Mrs." Frankie looked at the waitress taking the order in the next booth. She was a girl Frankie hadn't seen before. The diner seemed to avoid young women with looks.
Decker followed his eyes. "Sharry's good, wasn't home by the time I fell asleep." Turning back to Frankie. "Cute."
"She must be new." Frankie didn't do a good job of covering his stare. Yeah, cute." It was a mumble to himself.
The waitress approached them. "You gentleman don't drink coffee?"
They looked at each other. "We're not gentlemen, were a couple of guys." Decker teased.
"Okay guys, you bothering the help." Gladys returned with two cups of coffee. "This is Sadie, she does the afternoon and evening shift, your not going to run her off like the last one."
"Are you talking about Margo, who was eighty-five, came when the foundation was laid in the 1920's."
"She would have stayed longer if you hadn't made fun of her being deaf." Gladys defended her former co-worker.
Frankie smiled at the newcomer. "Where you from Sadie, Gladys has never called us gentlemen."
"And I never will!" Gladys insisted. She nodded to the counter, "Your order's up Sadie. I'll take care of these numbskulls."
"Luziana." Sadie said."I'm from Luziana." She looked at her order pad, and laid a, "Good meet'n y'all," on them. Frankie watched her walk away.
"Like I said, be nice to her she's a sweet kid." Gladys gave the boys her best motherly frown.
"I'll be...we'll be nice, won't we Decker." Frankie promised.
"I'm an old married man." Decker smiled at Gladys. "She's safe around me."
"I don't get it. How does Lenny have all that stuff, the car, the garage, he has some great furniture in his apartment; all that on a printers assistant's income." Deck wondered as he took another shooter.
"I don't know, he invest in the stock market, we've all heard him talking about the market." Frankie suggested with no conviction.
"The market has been down for a good long time." Decker shook his head. "I've asked if he wanted me to do his taxes, he always says he does them himself, so little income, no problem. He worries me. Maybe he's not being out front with us. He doesn't want the IRS chasing after him."
"Hey guys, whatís going down."
"Not much talking about the Yankees, Boston comin' into town, should be a good series." Deck lied.
Lenny looked at his friends sensing that this was a cover.
"God, what's with that Sanders? He's so damn argumentative. He's gotta disagree with every thing you say. I say white, he's gotta say black, just to be disagreeable. And he's a supervisor, some department with the city. Can't imagine how painful that must be...working for a putz like him. Damn pain in the fucking ass."
"Shh!" Frankie pointed out Sadie, "She's new, watch your mouth."
"God, now your doing it." Lenny moaned and leaned back.
"Come on man, she's young, and he's nice..that's all I'm sayin'" His eyes darting between his old friend and his new interest.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Lenny shook his head at his love starved friend.
CHAPTER III
DECKERS OFFICE
Decker, Angie talk office, Sharry, call from Sharry Angie was at his desk finishing a phone conversation. "I have to meet a client over lunch."
He paused. "You know what I mean, they are expecting us."
Another pause. "I'm looking forward to an informative discussion, with long term prospects."
As he put down the phone his secretary entered. "Mr. Fiorello I have finished those reports they are printing and collating now, anything else, I have a lunch date." Francine advised from the doorway.
"Close up the office, I'm meeting a prospective client for lunch." Francine gave Angie a knowing smirk, which he ignored. "Is Deck in his office?"
Francine was slipping her arm into her overcoat. He will be back at Two, he said something about meeting with Blankenship."
CHAPTER IV
MACHINE SHOP
Frankie at work, Deck discusses invention and business plan "Here it is Deck." Frankie whipped a tarp off a large piece of machinery. He stood back admiring his achievement. "Whadda you think?"
"Yeah, well it looks like a hunk of metal to me. I know my cycle, I can work on it, I've rebuilt a couple engines, my bike I know, this thing is way beyond me. I've heard you explain it, but to sell it to a venture group they need a lot more."
"Like what, a lot more?"
"Like I was telling you last night you need a business plan, I can help you, no one will talk to you without one. And then they need to know that it works, an actual production model."
"I need money to do that, money I just don't have."
Decker rubbed at his chin. "I've loaned you all that I can. How about Lenny, Mr. Wall Street?"
"We've talked. He seems to spend it faster than he earns it." Frankie said. Decker nodded his understanding.
"Okay, I'll work with you on the plan, all the paperwork involved there, Maybe I can come up with a venturesome, venture capitalist that will forgive your empty pockets."
"Deck, I hate to push the boundaries of our friendship this way."
"Forget it man, this is business, not friendship." Deck slapped Frankie on the shoulder. "Gotta go, have a meeting with Angie."
WORK LENNY INTO THE DINER SCENE, HAVE HIM CHEWING ON A TOOTH PICK AS HE LEAVES.
CHAPTER V
SANDERS OFFICE
Sanders the officious city clerk Sanders is the evil little passive aggressive bureaucrat, he takes his frustrations out on the public and co-workers Sanders looked up at the clock, 12:00 noon, he opened the brief case on his desk, he extracted a sandwich wrapped in a plastic baggie, a banana and a thermos. He laid out a napkin in the middle, smoothing it flat. He placed the sandwich in the center and the banana, directly above, and on the edge. He then removed the cup from the top of the thermos, and poured chicken noodle soup into the cup. The soup was placed six inches to the right side of the sandwich. He then removed the sandwich from the baggie, he leafed through the bread lettuce, meat, and cheese, sniffing, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he went. Inspection over, sorted back into place the sandwich was raised, mouth open, the phone rang. Sandwich frozen in space and time, he looked at the phone. It rang again, and again, and again. He put down the sandwich with a "Rumff," opened the door to see his two clerks serving long rows of clients at their service windows. Both were surrounded by stacks of paper and faced angry clients. Sanders shouted, can't someone answer that phone.
Both clerks looked to Sanders, shrugged and went back to their clients. He returned to his desk picking up the sandwich, looking at it, putting it down, removing the handset from the phone and going back to his lunch.
"Frankie, what are you doing here. You never come in for lunch." Gladys gave him her knowing smile. He looked around the diner, no Sadie, his heart dropped. With a worried look he asked Gladys, "Is she here?"
Gladys' face took on a vague look, "Who? What she? Frankie, they don't let me bring my crystal ball to work." She chuckled. "Okay kid, since you are a valued customer...Sadie was asking about you...I didn't say anything good. And, like I said this morning, she's a good kid, I don't want anyone taking advantage of her. She's on a break. Be out in a minute." The waitress waved Frankie to a stool at the counter.
"I appreciate that." He said as Gladys scurried off to another customer. How does she do that, puncture your balloon and boost your ego at the same time. Frankie wandered down to the end of the counter sitting on the swivel stool, thinking about Sadie. He looked at his hands on the counter, then slipped them into his jacket pockets. Did she notice his hands this morning, lot'a girls see his hands, that's the end, no more dates.
Frankie couldn't take his eyes off of the clock, anticipating her arrival and fearing rejection. Maybe this is a bad idea, he thought. He worried, a nice girl like Sadie surely had men asking for dates. Guys with good jobs and a solid future. He saw Gladys go back to the kitchen. "Frankie, you're stupid," He muttered and spun on the stool and began to step away from the counter.
"Where you going Frankie?" He heard Sadie's Cajun drawl.
"No where." He turned to face her. Wow. She's even more beautiful than she was this morning. And she remembered my name. "Just stretching my legs." He felt guilty lying to her. Sitting he took a menu, his eyes moving from the cafe's offerings to her face and back. He didn't want to stare, but he did.
"Take your time, I have another customer. You won't go away?" Sadie asked.
Frankie watched as she walked to a customer at the middle of the counter. Nice. He went back to the menu that he knew from front to back after years of visits with the guys. His mind kept returning to her face, pixie was the word he couldn't get out of his head. Dark, short cropped hair, deep brown eyes and a petite body. He chuckled, what woman would want to be told a guy thought she looked like a pixie, good way to end a potential relationship. He let his imagination go loose, seeing visions of her flitting through a starlit sky, scattering silverish dust upon the unsuspecting. Keep it to yourself Frankie.
Sadie was back, "What will it be Frankie?" Wow! He loved the sound of his name, the way she said it.
Tipping the carafe she freshened his coffee.
"Hmm." He looked up at those brown eyes. He didn't want to order, he wanted her to be there all day long. I have to let her go, "Tuna melt and fries." He smiled and handed her the menu. Then he heard a voice, his voice and he broke into a sweat, "Are you busy tonight, could I see you?" He immediately began tearing into himself. Can I see you, what a dumb line. Frankie she has better things to do. A girl that looks like Sadie is sure to be busy.
"Frankie, that sounds nice. I'm off at eight, is that okay with you? Meet me right here?"
Lenny Sweating Investigation
Print Shop the heat is on Lenny chewed on his tooth pick as he studied the documents spewing from his printer. Over the years he had trained his eyes to find irregularities, improper formats or a printer just going crazy. He had a reputation, if there was a misprint, something not lined up just so, Lenny was the guy that would find it. He had the printerís eye. It was an okay job, it paid for his car, his 1957 Silver Hawk, a collectorís car. He loved the lines, the turn signals mounted on the fenders, the funky fins that tweaked outwards. It was like him, just a little out of fashion, different but eye catching.
"Howís it going Len, get it done on schedule?" Simmons, Lennyís supervisor came up from behind with the question. Simmons was a nervous man, the print schedules ran his life. Not taking his eyes off the job Lenny nodded in the affirmative.
"Running smoothly, have it collated, stacked, and shipped by 2:00," Lenny assured. Simmons grunted an acknowledgement and walked across the plant floor.
Lenny glanced back and forth between his job and Simmons progress across the floor to his office. Providing a service to Wall Street firms could make a job high stress. Those people felt of themselves as gods. All request were treated with top priority, get it in, get it out and by god donít make any mistakes.
As Simmonsí office door closed Lenny whipped a sheet from the stack forming in front of him, he scanned the printout, no errors, glanced around the room, everyone was busy, he slipped the sheet into a binder below his workstation.
The last few prints for his run were printing out, he looked around for Juan, his man from shipping. "Lenny you looking for me?" Juan asked. The guy always startled Lenny, he just appeared when a job needed to be moved to shipping. The shipper came in close to Lenny, "You hear anything?" "What am I going to be hearing, Iím over here all day on my printer, you know me Juan, donít talk to no one," Lenny like to stay away from all the gossip, whoís sleeping with Darlene in the office, who is Simmons going to fire next, no stay out of the line of fire, do your job, that was his philosophy. He had a nice thing going, not be be screwed-up.
Juan was watching Simmons door, "The boss is pissed," Juan informed. Lenny could only think that was the normal for Simmons, so whatís the deal. Juan slipped a pallet jack under Lennyís job, lifted it off the floor, moved in close again, Lenny had better things to do he was thinking, get it over with Juan, "Couple guys were talking to old man Simmons, I was talking to Darlene on a break, god that blouse she was wearing, so thin you could see everything sheís got, hot, damn if she aint hot." Juan went back to pumping the lift just a bit higher. All he got from Lenny was a look of irritation.
That was it two guys talking to Simmons, any most of the guys in the plant had seen a lot more of Darlene than her peek-a-boo blouses. Your wasting my time Juan, go away. Wishing Juan away had no effect, he just smiled, "Yeah, two suits from the SEC, no way I want the man breathing down my neck." He put his thick shoulders into the work and began pushing the load to shipping. Lenny was staring at the floor, a chill came over him, like he was outside with out a coat, he felt as though I couldnít move. He knew what he had to do.
Angie hooking up with Sharry
THE PARTNERs SHARES MORE THAN THE OFFICE "Sharry we cant keep meeting like this, I feel so cheap." Angie teased, massaged the her shoulders through the silk blouse.
"Angie you are cheap alright." She pushed at him. He grabbed her and wrestled her onto the bed. "We need to tell him, I want out. I want to screw you without looking over my shoulder.
Angie nuzzled her hair, he kissed her ear and worked his way south, slipping down her panties to delve deep inside. Sharry arched her back, rolling and writhing, he reached up to kneed at her breast.
Minutes later Angie laid exhausted on the bed. Sharry buttoned her Blouse. "I will tell him tonight. I cant go on like this, once or twice a week. I want you twenty-four-seven."
"Not tonight, client in Boston needs to see him." Angie reached for his watch. "I better go, we were going to discuss the approach this afternoon."
"Are you telling me we could have had a night together instead of this cheap, quickie."
He stood to nosh on her neck and throat. "If you two split it will affect the partnership, he won't be happy with us hooking-up on the side." She spun away from him.
"You're not backing out on me. We've been planning this for months. It's to close, too long.
"Sharry, you know I'm crazy about you...tonight, while he's in Boston, we'll figure it out...seven, I can be there at seven." He held her shoulders, they kissed.
THERE IS A PROBLEM WITH THE BOSTON THING, NEED TO GET THE CHRONOLOGY RIGHT
The Boss is Unhappy
In a pool of light stubby fingers turned pages of a ledger, columns were studied, and occasional notations were made in the margin. The fingers were tipped with manicured nails, an incongruity on sausage stubs. A balding head bowed into the light, glasses adjusted, more notes were made, along with profane comments, and grunts of disgust.
Off in the dark a phone rang, the head continued its focus on page after page of numbers. A second and a third time the phone sounded. The head tilted in the direction of the annoyance, the profile was that of gross features, a bulbous nose and thick gnarled lips. ìAin you gonna get that Jerry?î The disembodied head demanded.
ìOh, sure Boss,î Came the reply from Jerry. ìYeah, dis is Jerry.î Jerry listened.
ìYeah, da Boss is hereÖBoss, itís fur yuids,î Jerry handed the heavy, black bakelite handset into the ring of light.
The Bosses gross features, twisted, ìJerry, how many times I gotíta tell ya ta get a name, whodís it?î ìOh, yeah itís da kid at the printer place.î ìGimme da phone, putz!î The Boss spat out. ìYeah kid wha ya wan?î The Bosses stooped head nodded as he listened to Lenny. He never used names on the phone, used the old fashioned analog handset to avoid digital listening techniques. He felt this would add a bit of a road bump to the Feds had they wanted to listen in.
ìYeah kid, ya did good, no problem.î He looked into the dark where his underling stood guard, ìJerry!î ìYeah Boss.î Jerry responded.
ìGet me da Weasel, I need him ta take care aí the kid for me.î
The Flip of a Coin
DECKER'S OFFICE
Flipping the coin ìFrancine said you had an update,î Angie stepped into the office. Decker looked up at his partner, he was adjusting himself inside his clothing, he was a bit rumpled.
ìYeah, Blankenship phoned, he needs to see one of us "Francine has ordered the tickets. Flight goes out at five-thirty. Do you think you can make it."
"Hold on partner, I have a surprise planned for Sharry. We haven't had much time together, and she is always on me about not being spontaneous. Tonight I am Mr. Spontaneous, everything is going to be out of the ordinary for the both of us."
"Blankenship is a special client, needs to be handled with kid gloves, I just feel like he is your man, the kind of guy you are able to finesse." Beads of sweat were forming on Angie's forehead. He pulled at his tie. "Hot in here."
Decker crossed his arms and shook his head. "I have a great evening planned, working on it for a couple weeks." He stared down Angie, who began jiggling the coins in his pocket, and then a smile formed on his mouth.
"I'll flip you for it."
"Be a lot easier if you took the flight." Decker rubbed his temples feeling a stress headache coming on.
"I'll even let you call it."
"Thanks, I think. Okay flip it." Decker said. The quarter went into the air. "Tails." He called out, the coin bounced on the carpet, tails it was.
Angie again pulled at his tie. Decker gave him a manly slap to the shoulder. "Have a good trip, Blankenship will be no problem, you can schmooze him."
As Decker left the conference room Angie was still looking down at the coin. "He mumbled to himself, "He always calls heads." He retrieved the quarter from the floor, flipping it back and forth, tails on both sides.
SANDERS ALONE AT THE TAVERN
The tavern was empty save the presence of Dinky and Sanders. The proprietor, towel over his shoulder, elbows on the bar was attempting the posture of the listener. The customer sat opposite the barkeep, nursing a Seven and Seven, lamenting the life of the single man, living at home.
"My supervisor at the department, Momma, they just wont let me be...you know, make decisions. They are after me all the time. Do this, do that. Can't they just leave me alone let me do my job."
"And Momma is always after me about getting a wife. Tonight she invited Mona over, you remember me mentioning my cousin Mona, the one I took to her prom and mine. She wants me to marry my cousin. Mona the writer, went to NYU, writes stories for romance magazines. Goes to NYU for four years and the best she can do..."
Dinky would nod and emit a knowing grunt as the comments required. Sanders went on. "Mona's been after me for years, she's ok, she just isn't...you know, hot. Not the girl you dream about, the one you want to go home to at the end of the day, rip her clothes off and make love to. You know me Dinky, the way I am...respect women. I keep my hands of Mandie, not like Lenny. But it would be nice to have a hot wife " Sanders stopped to catch his breath, toying with his drink. Dinky leaned back, looked down the bar and around the room, slapping his bar towel against the counter.
Back to Sanders he asked. "Need a refill there." He knew the answer, the one the kid always used. Sanders looked at the half filled glass.
"Better not, Momma will know if I've had too much, better not."
Dinky smiled. "Gotta go in back a minute, verify a delivery I got this afternoon." He lied.
The Mob gets to Lenny
"Would you look at that sky up there, black as your fucking lungs. Get rid of that god damn cigarette. Kill yourself, I'm okay with that, but no need to kill me too." He glanced at the sky through the foggy window. "Gonna snow, gonna snow two feet deep they says. Where's that fool. Pissed off the boss."
Gus continued sucking on the stub of his cigarette, ignoring the Weasels complaints. "How's about I go get us coffee, coffee would be good, hot."
"Yeah, you go get coffee the kid shows up and the plan is screwed. You stay here! We freeze together." The Weasel studied his watch. "Boss says bout this time he'll show. We wait."
Gus flipped his stub out the crack in the window just as Lenny pulled his Silverhawk to the curb. The Weasel glared at his partner shaking his head. "Coffee would have screwed the works for sure. I'll meet you at the wharf." He looked to his watch again. "Bout fifteen after." Gus ignored the watch thing. I'll see ya' when I see ya', he thought to himself.
The Weasel slipped his hand into his overcoat pocket, feeling the weight of the Beretta in his hand as he stepped from car to sidewalk, moving his finger to the trigger as he stepped to the drivers side. The door began to open Weasel stepped into the gap between the target and the car door. "Lenny how ya doin'" He greeted in a grandfatherly tone." Lenny looked up, confused, surprised.
"Wha..."
The gun came out of the overcoat, pointed at Lenny, "Slide over kid." He didn't like it when they called him kid. But with the money and now this gun, and the silencer what was he going to say. He slid to the passenger side. The Weasel checked for the key in the ignition, no key. "Gimme the key kid." Kid again. He handed the key to the good ol'e boy, whatever they are called.
"Don't hurt the car." Lenny pleaded.
The weasel slipped the key into the ignition, one hand on the steering wheel, looked around admiring the craftsmanship of the vintage car, and the pains of restoration. "Not bad." He remarked with a smile as his gun popped-out several rounds into Lenny. Slipping the gun back into his pocket he leaned over to straighten the body against the window. He then sat back, adjusted the mirror and turned the key. Nothing. He checked the gears, tried again. Nothing. He looked back to see if Gus had left. Of course Gus had left that was the plan. Coffee, should have let that dumb bastard get his coffee.
"Kill switch, the kids got some kind of kill switch here." He began talking to himself. "Don't panic, so you got a stiff here and a car that won't move." The weasel began a survey of the dash, ran his hands underneath, pulling at wires, something unusual, out of the ordinary, he puled down the visor, under the seat, nothing again. He glared at Lenny, what remained of Lenny. "Dumb bastard." He slammed the flat of his hand into the steering wheel. He got out, locked the door and walked away. The windows had fogged from the inside, only a shadowy silhouette could be seen of the former owner from outside.
DECKER COMES HOME TO SURPRISE SHARRY
Decker enters his apartment, in the distance he can hear the sound from the television in the den.
Arms out Decker shouts "Surprise." Sharry gasps, inhaling air, her head shoots around to see her husband. She is in a slinky negligee.
"Boston, you were going to Boston for business." She was insistent. There was a bottle of champagne chilling, Hors†d'úuvres. He could smell something appetizing in the oven. They stared at one another both confused.
"Angie took the trip, I was going to surprise you, I can see that I have."
"Angie went to Boston...Angie went...?" Her voice trailed off, she fell back in the couch. She turned back to stare at the grainy images on the television screen, a remote feed of snow, flashing lights and emergency vehicles. She felt a huge knot forming in her chest, strangling her voice and lungs, she gasped, "Flight 739?"
"Yeah, 739." Decker looked at the TV for the first time, a news story, or a breaking bulletin. A banner at the bottom announced, Crash of Flight 739, JFK to Logan.
Sharry was in denial, she couldnít believe what she was seeing, ìAngie's okay, he's not hurt, maybe he missed the flight. Responding to instinct, Decker pulled his cell from his pocket, punched Angieís number, he listened to the ring then the operator indicating the number was out of service. He slipped it back in his pocket.
He sat next to his wife, put his hand on hers, she pulled away, a vacant look on her face, she chewed on a nail. ìIt canít be,î She looked at her husband, recognizing for the first time, ìWhy wasnít it you, you were the oneÖyouíre the one should have died. Angie's been screwing me for months, why did it have to be Angie, why wasn't it you." She beet her fists on Deckers chest. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, the lies, the cheating, both of them smiling, pleasant but screwing behind his back. It wasn't the sex he was angry about it was the facades they created. The fake loyalty.
"He blew up with everyone else, no survivors."
He had to go to the airport, arrangements needed to be made. Angie had no family, they had been like brothers or so he thought. "Get dressed we need to go to JFK."
I can't I can't go out not the way I feel.
He was your lover, the least you could do You were screwing Angie and now you want me to do this alone You never have done much for me Decker, you can do this He pulled out his cell phone as he walked to the door, He looked back at Sharry hew could no keep the contempt from his face. "I gotta do this."
As Decker closed the door Sharry shouted at him. "God damn bastard, you should'a died, not Angie." Her head fell upon her crossed arms, she returned to her deep sobs.
Life's a Lottery
Guido Lazzari was ringing up a sale at his old fahion cash register, brass, huge keys and lots of noise as the drawer banged open. "Mrs. Cecchi, will that be all tonight?" He asked as he bagged the grey haired woman's purchases.
Mrs. Cecchi looked around, rubbing her hands at her sides. "Sure Guido, don't think I forgot nothing."
"How about a lotto ticket? Big drawing tonight, and I got the winner in her, I can just feel it." He encouraged with a smile.
"You know me Guido, never buy those things, waste of money." She pulled the bags forward, squeezing them in her ample arms. "Waste of money Guido, you know me, money comes too hard to waste on no lotto."
The door banged shut as Mrs. Cecchi went out into the cold night. A young fellow in grease stained coveralls placed a bottle on the counter. "Ciggies Guido." He requested.
Guido turned and pulled a pack form a carton, slapping it on the counter. "Marlboro Red, and a bottle of Old Grand-Dad, how ya doing Sal?" Guido asked.
"I'm ok. Give me five lottos, let the machine pick the numbers." Sal said. Guido went about ringing up his sale and tending to the lotto.
"Tonights the night Sal." Sal was a nervous little guy, bouncing from foot to foot. Guido smiled as he handed the ticket to his customer.
Sal shrugged. "With you Guido, every night's the night."
The wind pushed a frail Joe Ferrara through the door, pellets of snow followed after. "Night Sal." Guido nodded, and stepped back as Ferrara approached the counter. Joe and Guido had this thing, neither could stomach the other, Ferrara only customed the store because it was close. Joe also got a level of satisfaction knowing he irritated the store owner. He slammed a stack of bills on the counter.
"Count it Guido, two hundred and fifty dollars." Ferrara smirked.
"And what you want me to do with your two hundred and fifty dollars Mr. Ferrara?" It was always Mr. Ferrara, Guido would play nice but feeling something far different.
"Lotto tickets, I want you to start printing out lotto tickets." Ferrara turned to view the old Rheingold clock. "Ainít got much time Guido." He chuckled.
"Your right Mr. Ferrara, not much time I'll print 'em out ten to a slip."
"No you won't Guido, each one separate ticket, you know how I do it." Ferrara protested. He made another pass at the clock. "Hurry it up Guido, shuts down in twenty-five minutes."
Guido slumped. "Sure Mr. Ferrara two hundred and fifty individual tickets." As he turned to his lotto machine he exhaled. "Ass hole."
"What's that Guido, what you say. I can go down the street, I can go some place else ya know."
"I didn't say nothing Mr. Ferrara, punch up your tickets just fine. Jus the way you like ëem," Guido began pushing at keys.
Frankie browsed through wine bottles, reading labels and checking the prices. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, leafing through the few bills to be found. He pulled the cheapest bottle he could find from the rack, and walked to the front of the store. "Hi Guido." He called to the owner, who's head was down intent upon his lotto machine.
Guido looked up and over to the clock. "Hay Frankie, how ya doin?"His head returned to the lotto machine.
"I'm ok." Frankie responded to a preoccupied Guido.
Guido made a notation. "Mr. Ferrara, Frankie here has a hot date. How's about I ring him up?"
Ferrars puffed up his small frame as best he could. "Frankie's hot date is gonna wait, I need those numers before eight, now get with it Guido." He snarled and glared at Frankie.
Frankie had difficulty not staring at the clock clicking closer to eight. He could envision Sadie slipping off her uniform, and leaving the diner. He wouldn't be able to see her until Monday. Monday was to damn far, too far to think about. "Gotta see her tonight."
Guido placed the two hundred and fifty tickets in front of Mr. Ferrara. "There you go Mr. Ferrara, two fifty, just like you wanted."
Ferrara's hand reached for the tickets. "How's about a bag, don't to lose one."
"Don't need a bag, want to see the numbers, feel the paper, know that I got the winner here." He grabbed at his purchase.
"That's what I been telling my customers all day, got the winner here in my store."
Ferrara smiled. "No Guido, I got the number here in my hands." He shook the numers at Guido as he left the store.
"I don't know why he buys those things, he is as rich as The Donald. Putz." Guido shook his head and reached for Frankie's bottle. "What you got there Frankie." He looked at the wine. "You don't take this for a date with a girl, this you drink in an alley." He laughed.
"All I could afford Guido, that bad, huh?"
Guido rang up the wine. "How about a ticket, maybe Ferrara didn't get it, the big winner, never know?"
Frankie handed over all his money to Guido. "That's all I got."
"Some hot date she is going to have." Guido laughed at his joke and Frankies predicament as he slid the bottle into a bag. "Night Frankie." Frankie nodded as he went to the door.
Joe Ferrara stood below the street light, lotto tickets fanned out in his hands, his lips moved as he read through the number series, squeaks of glee were emited from his mouh as lucky series were found. He knew that this was going to be his day. He wasn't going to buy anything. He had his rentals, oiffice building. He could buy more, but more buildings, more headaches. He wanted to hold the money, millions, tens of millions in his hands, smell it and feel it. He was thinking of emptying that exta bedroom, filling it with money and just rolling in it.
The wind tugged at his collar, he reached up, turning up his overcoat just as a strong gust ripped at his ticket pulling them from his hand sending them skyward in a swirling eddy.
Frankie stepped out of Guido's just in time to see what appeared to be a flurry of snow sliding up to the street lamp. Ferrara stretched as high as his small frame would allow, his arthritic hands grasping at the ascending tickets. He stood for a mement, staring at his departing fortune. "Mr. Ferrara, can I help, wha's the matter?" Frankie asked.
Ferrara doubled up and sobbed. "My tickets, ever last ticket is gone." Frankie put his hand on the greiving mans shoulder. "Get away, Joe Ferrara don' need your help. Joe Ferra needs nobody's help." He yanked his shoulder away from Frankie.
"I just wanted to help was all."
"Like I says, don't need no help." Ferrara straightened, and shrugged away from frankie, shuffling through the accumulating snow down into the darkness of the receding sidewalk.
Frankie slipped the wine into his coat pocket, and buttoned his collar against the encroaching wind.
SANDERS THE BIG DINNER
Sanders trudged up the steps to the brownstone, dreading the evening to be endured . Mamma yammering, extolling the talent and beauty of her favorite niece. Mona, bookish Mona, with the inch thick glasses and the steel mesh mouth. It had been two years ago, the last such fete.
As he reached for the knob the door was yanked open. There stood Mamma, all four-foot-ten inches of her. Her freshly permed curls, in their pink wash matching the chiffon gown that enveloped her diminutive form. "Archibald, how wonderful to have you home." Her arms reached up to her son, the falsity was the routine when guests were in the house. He bent to her, they allowed one another a quick peck to the cheek. She whispered. "You be nice to her." He sighed the sigh of the depressed.
Mamma turned aside and motioned. "And Archibald look who we have here." Standing in the entry to the dining room stood cousin Mona. Dowdy, mousy Mona, replaced by someone having only a slight semblance of of the previous incarnation.
Sanders stood transfixed. He was unable to take his eyes off the "little black dress", the dress all men fanaticize over. Mamma's little Mona was wearing that dress. The glasses, where were the glasses, she was blind with out them. Her eyes were blue, they had always been blue but the coke bottle lenses distorted the lustre and sparkle he was seeing. Sparkle that smile, where is all the metal, "Metal mouth Mona." That was my name for her "Archibald, don't just stand there, say something to your cousin, give her a kiss."
Sanders faltered toward her, his lips twitching a vague smile. He pronounced. "Mona." And stumbled into her. His cousin steadied him, drawing him close giving a full mouthed kiss. He was stunned, a deer in the beams of a Mack truck. It was the dress, the dark hair draping down to her shoulders, the deep "V" of her dress exposing small round breast, sumptuous, ripe ready to be picked. He inhaled her cologne, the room seemed to dip and swirl. His knees felt like they were going to slump.
"Archibald, what is the matter with you?" Mamma demanded. Tugging at his overcoat she turned him to her. She sniffed at him. "Have you been at that "Dinky" place again." She had her hands on her hips glaring.
"Now Mamma I just had one small highball." He motioned with his thumb and forefinger indicating a drink much smaller that that which he had imbibed.
"Mamma." Mona always referred to Mamma, as Mamma. "It' been two years since I saw Archie last." Archie, did Sanders hear that right, not Archibald. Archie was an improvement. She held his arm tight, she smiled up into his face. He was feeing woozy again.
"It's warm in here." Sanders began working at his overcoat buttons as Mamma and Mona guided him to a chair in the dining room, where he sat and removed the garment.
Sanders leaned back in his chair, Mona noticed persperation on his upper lip. "Mamma, Archie might needs some water, he doesn't look well." She patted his hand and ran her fingers through his hair. He relaxed and exhaled a deep sigh.
"I've warned him about those places, and drinking." Mamma scolded as she went for the water.
"I've always admired your hair it is just so dark and thick." Her eyes followed deep rich furrows her fingers created in his hair. Mamma stood in the doorway, the glass of water in hand, taking in her son at peace, and Mona caressing his hair. Her dreams were fulfilled, her life was complete.
CHAPTER XVI
DECKERS CHOICE
Decker listened to his wife rage on the other side of the closed door. He toyed with the cell phone, then slipped it into his pocket. He thought about Sharry and Angie. His partner was like a brother to him, all those years, college, friends working together. Did he really know his friend or his wife. He shrugged as he worked his way down the stairs in a daze.
On the sidewalk he looked for a cab, seeing none he took out his phone again, then flipped it closed. His bike would be quicker and easier to park. Behind the apartment he opened the small storage shed, and rolled out the cycle. Didn't ride as much as he would like. Sharry didn't approve. Wasn't like the old days, high school when he rode with the Rancid Riders. They liked to look tough, but cool was more what they were about. They were girl magnets. Girls liked ëem tough. That made him think about Angie, the single guy, liked to be rough with the girls. Maybe that is what Sharry wanted, what she missed. Did she find that in his friend?
He pulled his leather jacket from a storage box, inhaled the aroma of cow hide and admired the Rancid Riders logo, once a Rider, always a Rider. He then pulled on his helmet; he preferred the feel of the wind in his hair. However, tonight with the cold, he could lose his ears to frost bite. And last the gloves. He mounted his steed, turned the key, and she purred to life. He gave her a few twists of the gas to throw out a few throaty bursts of energy. More gas, and easing out on the clutch he rolled down the alley. At the side walk he glanced down the street, hit the accelerator and shot between the traffic.
He was having difficulty processing so much at once. He knew accounting, his job, his office, the clients. Now he was out of his realm, his zone of comfort. People relationships, God, what did he know, He thought he knew, yesterday, the day before. He functioned or thought he had.
The traffic was beginning to back up, then came to a stop. He leaned his bike to look down the block and on to the next. Nothing but traffic and red lights. There was an alley ahead, might be faster on the side streets. He squeezed between cars and then turned down the narrow canyon between two office buildings. The next street only had a few cars, he recognized the neighborhood, Frankie's, Guido's liquor should be on the next block he thought. The bike jumped as he gassed her, shooting past the liquor store. His mind was on Angie and Sharry. A shadow crossed into the street. A street beginning to build slush and ice. He couldn't break, he would lose control, he let up on he gas, and veered away from the figure. The back of the bike whipped forward, as it spun it threw a froth of snow and ice in the air, and Decker into the side of a Silverhawk at the curb.
Mrs. Cecchi ran from the middle of the street to the corner, her groceries, scattered along the way. Her hands went to her face. She had difficulty looking down to where the unmoving body lay. The unknown rider wedged between car and motorcycle.
CHAPTER XVII
MIDTOWN DINER NIGHT
Frankie meets Sadie for the big date Miss Cory what will you have tonight.
"Now let me see, umm, it all looks so good." The elderly woman paged through the menue, looked up at Sadie and back to her task. "Well now, why don't I have my usual." She smiled as she handed it back to her waitress.
"Tuna on rye, lettuce, hold the tomatoe and just a thin swipe of the Mayo, fries, and should I refill your ice tea Miss Cory."
"Yes that will be fine Sadie."
Sadie slapped the order on the cooks counter. "Miss Corey, the usual."
Herbie nursed his coffee, Sadie apraised his mug, grabbed the fresh pot and headed downthe counter to him. "Herbie, cold out there tonight, let me give you a refill."
He slid the cup forward so she could pour the dark steaming fluid into his waiting mug.
The door swung oppen, wind blowing in pellets of snow and Frankie. He closed the door, looked to Miss Cory, Herbie and the cook, but he focused on Sadie. Laking a stool he opened his
Frankie looked at the woman, he had a knot in his stomach, she's gorgeous. He knew that there had to be a better word, that was the best he could come up with. He was in awe of here. Hefting the bottle stuffed low in his overcoat pocket he felt it wouldn't be right, not for her. I should leave now, god! I'm just making a fool of myself. His feet began to pivot to the door, she'll understand. "Frankie, I'm ready." She was standing behind him, bundled in her overcoat, that open smile on her lips.
CHAPTER XVIII
MONA'S APARTMENT
"Archie, you are such a gentleman to walk me home." Mona said. The snow crunched under their feet as they progress down the sidewalk. "Why don't you hold my hand. We can steady one another, I don't want to fall." Sanders reached for her hand, she giggled. "It is so quiet when it snows, the flakes muffle sounds. I guess that is why."
"I can't get over how different you are Mona. You are a woman now. You are just so changed." Sanders complimented. He was pleased with himself. And Mona rewarded him with a my hero smile. Just maybe he could stripp away that little black dress.
Mona stopped. "This is my building Archie." She continued to hold his hand. "Thank you for walking with me. I would like to show my appreciation. Would you come up with me." She turned her face to him, she offered her lips. He hesitated, then moved to her kissing her lightly, she slid her arms inside his coat, gathering him to her, their mouths met for a full-bodied kiss.
She pushed back, giggling. "Come up Archie, we can have a drink, well chocolate, or coffee Mamma would not approve of liquor."
Hand in hand they went up the steps and into the entry vestibule. A row of mail boxes covered one wall. At the far end a man stood, looking into his empty box muttering. "Guido had the winner, Guido had the winner."
As they took the stair up to Mona's apartment Sanders asked. "Who was that?"
"Joe Ferrara, he owns this building and a hundred more in the city. This is the only nice one, he lives here."
The apartment is not small, but not large. It is neat and clean but modest in furnishings. Sanders is impress by her acomplishment.
Here is my small sitting area, my dining table and kitchen nook. I am especially proud of this room. Mona slides aside to doors exposing a large bedroom, for the size of the apartment and a kingsized bed. She allows Sanders a view of her domain. She allows him to brush past her, her hand rubbing him with intent. He sucked air and reddened. She moved to him, pulling away his jacket, tugging at his shirt, slipping her dress from her shoulers, and with a free hand she slapped the light switch off. The room fell to darkness. "Archie do you want me." She asked.
"Oh, yes Mona. I want you, I have always wanted you She snickered. "Oh Archie you are just more man than I can handle."
"Mona you are so soft, so beautiful,î He stammered, ìMamma would like it if we got married."
Exploring the Depths
Frankie and Sadie explore life. Sadie's Apartment torn vinyl seat is covered with duct tape "Nice use of the tape" Frankie commented.
Sadie stared him down. "I got the idea from Town and Country."
"Yeah, that looks like a lotta country." Frankie rejoined as he sat in the chair. "It works." He gave her a smug smile.
Talk of Cajun country Tabasco sauce "Empty your pockets."
"What is this, I've heard of people like you, take everything I have, throw me in an alley, my mother I.D.'s me in the morgue, if I'm lucky."
"Yeah Frankie, do I look like that sort of person." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Just empty the pockets, my Grandmother taught me this." He began pulling the contents from his pockets: used tissue, a few coins, the change from Guido's, and lint." She picked-up the tissue by an unused edge, tossing it in the trash. The lint was wisked to the floor with a quick stroke of her hand. She gazed at Frankie. "No wallet? I cant do this without everything"
Frankie's hands--As Frankie pulls his possessions from his pockets, laying them on the table, sadie grabs his wrist, with the other hand she ran her fingers across his palm and traced along his finger tips, noting the missing digit on his fore finger.
"That's it I'm going." He reached for his possessions, she grabbed his wrist.
"Not so fast, you brought that bottle of fine wine, and I gave up a date with a Wall Street power broker for you. Get the wallet out here." Her brown eyes sparkled at him, they were a deep, dark color.
His hand moved to his pocket, with effort he extracted the slim wallet, he then placed it on the table. Sadie began her inspection, pulling out a few business cards, a drivers license and a set of photographs. Her eyes rose to mtet his. "And for this I'm going to murder you, and drag you away to some alley." Her mouth exhaled something between a groan and a clacking sound. She began arranging his belongings before her. She made a variety of indiscernible sighs as she made her analysis.
"Well, maybe I shouldn't have turned down that power broker." She went back to the Frankie loot. She leaned back in her chair examining the collection of photographs. "Your Mother?" She placed the picture in front of him, he nodded. "Ah, the gang, a few years ago. I see the big guy, Lenny, is that right?"
Sadie put the picture on the table. Frankie looked at the picture of the guys. That was the year Lenny talked them into going to the Catskills, Grossinger's, the rundown Grossinger's was in the background. Lenny wanted to go down memory lane and show off his new Silverhawk. "Yeah, those are the guys. It was a good trip."
She studied another picture. "Now who do we have here, pretty girl, a girl friend maybe."
"No, it's my sister." He responded to quick, to emphatic, Sadie let it go.
"How about that fine wine of yours?"
"We will need a cork screw."
"It has a cork, then it is a quality vintage." She laughed. "Is that why you have no money ?"
He shrugged. "We need that cork screw."
"I'll see what I have." She walked to the utensil drawer where she began sorting through knives, spatulas, whisks and other odds and ends. He savored the chance to view the curve of her hips, the flow of her dark hair down her back. She shook her head. She turned to him. "Not a screw do I have. Now you know, I am not a connoisseur." She feigned humiliation.
Frankie slipped the bottle from the paper sack, studied the label placing it in the middle of the table next to the coins, business cards and picture. He put his elbows on the table and pressed his thumbs to his lips. He contemplated the disaster this evening had become. "We could go out on the town." Sadie suggested as she poked at the change on the table.
He looked up at her. "You hitting me over the head and dragging me into the alley is starting to sound like an improvement."
She pulled at his jacket. "Come over here we can talk on the couch."
They sat on the couch frankie in the corner, Sadie next to him her feet curled under her. she faces him intent upon their conversation. They talk of aspirations, what life should be like. Sadie talks about having dreams of college, but just dreams. Frankie talks about inventions, but the takes money and as sadie knows he is short where money is concerned.
Sadie talks about home, cajun country, family, friends, school Wayne and coming North Cajun country: water lakes bayous food: sounds: insects birds colors taste:
Tabasco catfish Sadie read several poems from a book and one she wrote. Frankie is impressed. he comments. she leans in and kisses frankie....
He brushed the back of his hands along her chin and down the side of her neck. She kissed his lips and pulled his hand to rest against her breast. They rolled back on the couch, she tugged at his shirt, he enveloping her mouth with his. Her back arched, she spoke "You will have to show me the way."
He kissed her neck, pulled at her buttons with his lips. She began to unbutton them for him. "What do you mean, show you the way." He helped with the buttons.
"You know, how it's done." She pulled her blouse away, exposing an ivory chest and small round breast. His lips and tongue caressed her nipples. They hardened.
He looked at her. "Done, what do you mean done?"
"Frankie, don't talk, it feels to good. I've never felt like this, with a guy's hardness." She bit into his neck, thrusting herself at him. "City Wayne couldn't do it, you'll have to help me."
He rolled away from her, sitting at the end of the couch. "You've never done it, never had sex?" He put his face into his cupped hands. "You were with Moultrie for two years, living here."
"We've been together, well we were together since junior year in high school. We dated then after graduation we came North. Wayne plays a good guitar and keyboard, he got into a band, he does well. Girls love him, they say he is a stallion." She began rebuttoning her blouse. "Is that it. Is this the way it is going to be for me. No guy will touch me when he finds out I'm a virgin." She stood and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothed out her wrinkles.
"All that time nothing happened."
"No nothing happened. We tried, oh how we tried. He couldn't. He couldn't get it up. He took care of me, respected me, maybe too much. He couldn't perform, not with me. The groupies, the band followers thought he was hot. Word got around, back to me that he was great on the road, but not at home, not with me." Her voice was raw and wavering. Frankie listened. "I did some reading, found books at the big central library and several universities. From what I read Wayne has the classic whore and madonna complex. The woman he loves represents the mother who never loved him. He can't make love to his lover because she represents his mother, making love to her would be incest. Wayne left, we both thought it was for be the best." She sighed and fell back into the opposite end of the sofa. "You can leave now."
Frankie stood, looking down on Sadie he scrubbed at his beard that had gone beyond a five o'clock shadow. "It's just that this complicates things. I though, maybe that's the problem, I thought. I expected you to be one way, and now you are the other. The problem with expecting. Yeah, know what I mean. Life is that way, things go along we expect this is the way it is, and then it just ain't. It is different like you. I thought you would be a regular girl, nice, but experienced with things, like with this." His hands gestured outward from his sides.
"Sex, you can say it Frankie."
"Yeah, sex." He sat in his corner, crossing one leg over his knee, toying with his shoe lace. He looked at her. "Your a nice girl Sadie, a guy would be lucky to have a girl like you. You'd be nice to come home to, have kids with." He rested his head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Nice girl. I'm sorry, I gotta confess I lied about the girl, the one in the picture." He glanced to Sadie. She smiled.
"I know Frankie. Nice guys are not great liars, I saw it in your face. So who is the pretty girl?"
"Monica, Monica Stanski, well it was Stanski then. She was from the neighborhood, we dated, I loved her but she didn't think I had potential. She didn't say so, I knew. You know about things like that. I never dressed right for her, she would say things. I thought we could make it work. She found her guy, they have the big house, kids, she's happy and I'm glad for her. Glad she's happy." Sadie slid across the couch next to him, putting her hand on his.
"Unlucky in love, the both of us." She said. Frankie assented with a nod.
"The books over there, the poems, you seem like a college girl, how come you didn't go."
"I was offered a scholarship, Tulane in New Orleans, but there was Wayne and his music. I shouldn't blame him entirely, the thought of New York, the small town girl going off to the big city, that was exciting. Now it is too late. A waitress can't put together the money for a college degree.
"That's a shame you seem to have a talent, I enjoyed your words, the way they described things, like I was there with you. You know like good words, professional like in a paper, or book, don't read a lot of books. I should shut up, I just keep going on."
Frankie tried not to have a complex about his job. He enjoyed working on cars, tinkering with engines. but, he was the only guy in the group that worked with his hands. Hands and finger nails that could never be clean no matter how hard he scrubbed at them. The others, Decker the accountant, Lenny the print shop supervisor, and Sanders, the tormentor of those he supervised, all had clean hands and carried an air of professionalism. Me, I got dirty hands, he thought.
The project he was working on, was not an invention, despite what Decker insisted on calling it. It was more a tweaking of an existing fuel intake system, he hoped this would move him up the scale. He wanted to be viewed as an engineer rather than a mechanic.
Sanders had sat in silence, the conversations flowing over and around him.
Sadie girl will get on him about accepting who he is. Having dirty hands doesn't make a man less than what he is inside.
"Yeah. I get your point, but shouldn't a person want to do better,. improve themself. How would progress be made if we always accepted things as they are?" He tried not to be too insistant.
"Hmm." Sadie folded her arms, tilted her head. "Yes. And no." She smirked.
"Ah. Sadie you cant have it both ways. Its yes or no."
"This is starting to sound likde a trial. Okay witness, answer the question yes or no." Her shoulder shook as she laughed.
"I can't."
"You must. Otherwise you will be charged with contempt of court."
"Franki held out his hands, wrist together. Cuff me up your honor."
CHAPTER XX
Sanders just cant get enough
"Oh Archie, let me slip off your pants, you get your shirt. Oh, Archie. Now your shorts."
"Mona I've never met a woman like you."
"You will never forget tonight. Archie did you read my book."
"Well...I...I was going to."
"Lay back Archie. Stretch out, relax. I want to be on top. You will enjoy me on top. I will be your master. I will entertain you."
"Oh, Mona you can do whatever you want." In the darkness there is a clicking sound. And then again. What is that Mona? My wrist I can't move my wrist." He protested. A metallic sound, metal scraping against metal could be heard.
"Shush Archie, you are going to hurt your self. It's a shame you didn't read my novel. It is all there. It's about us. I almost forgot I need to put this on."
"The funs over Mona, I'll be going now. Undue the whatÖ handcuffs, is that what they are?"
There is a ripping sound. "In a while Archie, you need to know. But first I'll put this on." Sanders feels something going across his face, he tries to turn away, fight it off, too late. Duct tape, the taste, feel and smell of duct tape. He pulled his wrist and twisted his head. Then she began pulling at his feet. Again there was the clicking sound. He was unable to move his legs. His body torqued up and to the sides.
"Ummff! Hlpfff! Mmmfff! Mmmfff!" His muffled screams and shouts became comic to Mona, she was enjoying her efforts.
"Too dark in here." She ran to the windows, flinging the drape open, allowing a gray glow from the street lamps to fill the room. "That's better Archie, I want to see you enjoying our time together." His eyes were opened wide, the defused light caught the terror within. Mona began removing the rest of her clothing. She flicked her finger at the tip of Sanders nose. "Now I remember you saying how you liked all the changes I've made." She turned in the light to let him see her body. Let him see what he was going to enjoy. "Do you like what I've done. Oh, and don't worry cousin, I've practiced with other men. I know how to give pleasure." She giggled her girlish laugh. "I'm good, every man I've had leaves with his tail dragging out of here."
Her gaze returned to his eyes, eyes that expressed only fear. She was happy, the project was going well. She curled up next to Sanders kitten-like, her head on his shoulder, one hand toyed with the hair on his chest. "Archie do you remember my high school prom." Archie didn't respond. She lifted her head, he was studying the ceiling. She grabbed a handful of chest hair and yanked.
"affffffff!" was Sanders only response. He thrashed for a moment then remembered resistance was useless.
"That's better Archie, I was afraid you had fallen asleep. Where was I. Oh, yes the prom. You remember?" No response from Sanders. Her grasp went back to his chest.
"Ummfff, ummfff." He responded. His eyes focused on her.
"Good boy, you are learning fast." She patted his head. "The prom, remember when you spent the night with the other boys, telling stories about me, reciting your favorite names for me. "Coke eyes, metal mouth, String Bean Sally." She rolled on top of him, leaning over him. "Not much of a string bean now. I saw the look at Mamma's house. You were taking me in, disrobing me, having your way."
She flicked the tip of his nose again, he winced. "How many years Archie, name calling, bullying, torment? Unfortunately Archie I only get one night. One night Archie is all I have, I have to make the best of it. Years of torment released in one night. I'm looking forward to it. Aren't you?"
"Nffff! Nfff!" Sanders protested. She stroked him. "Nfff!"
"Archie, youíre a big boy, well not so big, but you can handle it."
She applied more strokes. "Nffff! Nfff!"
Mona leaned forward, palms on his shoulders, stretching herself out, matching him head to toe. "I've had better Archie, well to be honest, much better. But you'll get the idea cousin, by morning most certainly you will understand."
Sanders body arched and quaked. "Affff! Afff! Afff!"
She was sitting on his chest again. "I don't think you will want to discuss this with your friends at Dinky's. It might be too, well too hard to live down. As for Mamma, I will have to explain that you were unable to fill my needs. She will be disappointed, she was so looking forward to grandchildren. She will understand, knowing you for the failure you are. She erupted into another burst of giggles as she brought Sanders back to life.
"Nfff! Nfff! Nfff!" He rocked back and forth on the bead.
"I'm enjoying it also Archie." She spewed more giggles.
Fortunetelling
Frankie turned his wrist watch, checking the time. "You have some place to go?" Sadie asked. Frankie stood under the weak street light. Goose down snow flakes floated through the slant of light. He pulled in on his jacket, shivering.
A burst of wind drove snow and litter into his face, he brushed and pulled at it, stuffing an offensive piece of paper into his pocket. Frankie had a thing about throwing trash on the ground, just couldn't do it.
Sadie stood at her window looking out at the solitary figure in the thin cone of light. She sensed the warmth of her body inside her thick robe. She felt the ache at her middle. She wanted to hold Frankie, share a moment of pleasure, maybe a lifetime. She pushed at the window, attempting to move it up, it came loose with a screech, wind whipping at the curtain and her gown as it was raised. She shivered and tightened the robe about her.
"I told you, the bus won't be along for forty-five minutes. Maybe longer with this snow. Come in you are going to freeze."
"I'm okay, like the cold." He rubbed at his leaky nose with the back of his hand.
"I'm not giving up until you come in. The both of us are going to die a premature death."
He looked down the block, through the wall of flakes, no bus lights were to be seen. Sadie was still at the window, resolute, arms folded, not moving, then another inspection of the roadway, no bus. He shrugged and started for the steps down to the apartment.
As he passed the window she spoke softly. "I never finished telling your fortune; we will have to start over again."
Morning seeped into the room. Mona at the side of her bed stretched and yawned. She wrapped herself in a modest robe. Behind her lay an inert Sanders, surrounded by vibrators, stimulators, and other gadgets from the trade. All guaranteed to provide a good time. "Archie." Mona whispered. She touched his arm, giving him a slight shake. His body jolted, as if electrocuted, bloodshot eyes shot open."Nfff! Nfff! Nfff!" He pleaded."No Archie You are just too much a man for me, I couldn't possibly go another round with you." She patted his arm, he jerked away from her. She smiled a beatific smile."Archie you will really have to read my novel, and then you will understand the humor in this. I'm sure you will enjoy the story. The critics have just loved it." She smiled down at Sanders as she ripped the duct tape from his mouth.
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