Brother Can You Spare A Dime

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            Brother, Can You Spare A Dime

                               by

                     Al Lamanda

                                                            PROLOGUE

            Patience Gavin couldn’t wait for her shift to end. Not that she hated her job, because in fact she didn’t. After thirteen years as a nurse with Manhattan General Hospital, she was very comfortable with her position. The doctors on call treated her very well, as did the Chief of Medicine and Chief of Surgery. They regarded her as a highly skilled and competent nurse and in New York City that was a rare as finding a subway car on the number 2 line that didn’t smell of urine.

            The day, or rather the night began as usual, fifteen minutes before midnight when she arrived at the hospital. Dressed in crisp, white pants (she had the option of pants or skirt) and matching crisp, white shirt, Patience used the extra time to read patient charts, converse with nurses and doctors ending their shifts and see who was coming on duty to work with her. As floor nurse in charge of the ICU Ward, she had the responsibility of assigning other nurses their evening tasks. She also had the added burden of babysitting the doctors, most of whom rather spend their shifts in the doctor’s lounge watching porn on cable television and eating pizza.

            By twelve twenty, Patience assigned her nurses their tasks and tracked down all of her doctors. There were forty ICU patients to care for and those who didn’t drop dead in their beds were easy work. Check vitals on the hour, dispense meds as prescribed, update charts, and pray nobody required emergency surgery because the on call was passed out drunk, smelling of pizza in the janitor’s closet.

            Around one thirty, Patience looked for Gloria, a blonde nurse with tremendous breasts because Gloria missed her last set of rounds. Patience found Gloria in the doctor’s lounge, engaged in some sort of sex act with a young resident doctor who looked like a young Johnny Depp in that movie about his fat mother who died and they had to haul her out by crane or something.

            The night wore on. At three thirteen, Gloria decided to make her rounds and save the lives of her patients by giving them their meds. The young Johnny Depp doctor came by the station to talk to Patience. He told her there was enough lead left in his pencil if she wanted a go. Patience told him she preferred pens and that she was allergic to lead. She could see that hurt his feelings, but she didn’t care. This was, after all, a hospital and not a call girl operation.

            At four seventeen, the old man with the mysterious infection no one could figure out in room 423 decided to have a fit. With a fever of 103.5, he started to hallucinate and thinking he was back in Korea where he was an infantryman. He began to twist and turn all the knobs on vital signs monitors believing they were some sort of Army radio and he was cracking a code. Patience found him on the floor beside his bed, talking into a urine cup. When he spotted Patience, he threw a chair through the window that by coincidence landed on an eighty-year-old patient being carried in by stretcher. The paramedics carrying the stretcher dropped it on impact and the man in the stretcher died from the force of the chair falling sixty feet onto his chest.

            At five twenty six, police arrived and wanted to arrest the man in 423 for murder. Patience told them they were too late, that his fever rose to 108.5, that the doctors were unable to lower it in time and the man’s brain fried him to death. Patience was on break and eating an egg salad sandwich in the nurse’s lounge at the time. It appeared to her that the police seemed very disappointed they had no one to arrest, so she gave them each a free cup of coffee as a condolence.

            Just before six, the Johnny Depp doctor returned to pester her some more about the unbelievable amount of wood he carried in his pants, that it was quite painful and he needed a nurse to help relieve the pressure. Patience told him to meet her in the lounge just to get rid of him, then locked the lounge door from the outside with her key. She gave a standing order to her nurses not to let him out unless one of his patients went into arrest and even then, they should check with her first.

            Sometime between six fifteen and six twenty, Patience wasn’t sure of the exact time because she was taking a pee break; the patient in room 417 needed emergency surgery on a blood clot that formed on his spine. Patience went to the janitor’s closet and found the drunken surgeon asleep and when she woke him, he began to cry like a baby because Nurse Gloria had thrown him over for young doctor Johnny Depp. Patience told the surgeon she would fix things with nurse Gloria if he would perform emergency surgery on the man in room 417. The surgeon agreed, but only if Patience agreed to promise. She did, he did, and unbelievably, the man in room 417 survived.

            After that, Patience talked to Nurse Gloria and she agreed to sleep with the surgeon, but only if she could keep sleeping with young Johnny Depp on the side. Patience told Nurse Gloria that she didn’t care one way or the other so long as nobody else died tonight. Nurse Gloria asked Patience if it was okay to unlock young Johnny Depp and Patience agreed to the concession because someone somewhere on the floor might actually need a doctor.

            Around seven forty am, Patience started to feel excited to the point of giddy. In twenty minutes, her shift would end and she brought a change of clothes because there wasn’t time to go home. Her brother Ian was never on time and when he told her he would pick her up at eight, what he meant would show up at eight-thirty or thereabouts. He was a pain in the ass that way, but Patience learned to deal with Ian over the years. Ian was, after all, her brother.

            At seven-fifty-five, Patience went to the nurse’s locker room to change into the nice sundress she picked out just for today. It was a bright, cheery yellow and she felt happy just to put it on. She didn’t bother with hose because her legs were tanned and firm and they were a bother to put on and take off, all that pulling. She thought about wearing a pushup bra to make her tiny breasts appear larger, but who would that fool? No one, least of all Lee, she decided and left the pushup bra in her locker.

            At eight ten, Patience left the hospital and went to the emergency room parking lot to meet Ian. For once, the air in the city was close to breathable and she removed a pack of Virginia Slims Cigarettes from her purse and lit one off a match.

            Then, like magic, at eight fourteen and fifty seconds, early by Ian standards, Ian arrived in his convertible Mustang. So giddy was Patience that she tossed the cigarette and jumped over the door of the Mustang and into the seat and kissed Ian on the cheek.

            “So you’re ready then?” Ian said.

            After three years, a total of 1096 days (one extra day for leap year, whatever that was) Patience was about to witness her husband become a free man when he walked out of the state prison. She wanted more than anything for him to look at her in her pretty sun dress and think her the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes upon.

            Patience grinned at Ian. “Let’s go get my husband,” she said.

                                                            ONE

            On the morning of his release after a three year incarnation at the new York State Prison, Lee Gavin took breakfast with the warden in his office. Warden Perry was a rotund, funny little man who always wore a bowtie with his suits. He had thinning hair and needed glasses an inch thick to see and he more resembled an accountant than a warden, but a warden he was, and a damn fine one at that.

            Everybody loved Warden Perry, even Lee Gavin, who loved practically nobody except his wife Patience, and a golden retriever he had as a little boy.

            For very good reason was Perry loved so much. Warden Perry allowed everybody in his prison, guard and inmate alike to do whatever the hell they felt like. This was Warden Perry’s own personal system and it worked very well for many years. Guards and inmates made money and inmates had plenty of free time to exercise in the yard, watch first run movies and cable television, gamble if they so chose or even start their own business, which many did via the internet. Some even had their own pay per view web sites called Prison Porn.

            Warden Perry loved Lee Gavin.

            For very good reason. Lee Gavin made Warden Perry a great deal of money. There were two things Lee Gavin excelled at, fighting and stealing. The stealing won Gavin a three year stretch at the state prison, his fighting lined Warden Perry’s pockets with a great deal of cash won on side bets.

            “I really hate to see you go,” Warden Perry said to Gavin. “Bloody Mary?”

            “Yes, please,” Gavin, said.

            “How are your hands, Lee?” Perry said as a guard served Lee a Bloody Mary. “Any calcium deposits?”

            “No, nothing,” Gavin said, glancing at his large knuckles. “Fine.”

            “That’s good, that’s good,” Warden Perry said. “I have a favor to ask and I realize its last minute, but just hear me out. I was thinking that maybe you could take a swing at me, after breakfast and Bloody Mary, of course.”

            “Why would I do that, Warden?” Gavin said as he sipped his Bloody Mary. “I like you. You’ve been very good to me.”

            “I know, I know, but this is business,” Warden Perry said. “You see, if you don’t hit me, I have no recourse other than to release you. As much as that gladdens my heart at your freedom, it also saddens my heart that you will no longer be part of our family. Three months, that’s all I’m asking. Three months and six fights, it’s not too much to ask, is it? We’ll split the take right down the middle.”

            “That’s a kind offer, Warden,” Gavin said. “And I might consider it an honor to stay in your employ, but my wife is driving up this morning and I would hate to inconvenience her more than I already have. It’s a long drive.”

            “I understand, I understand, it’s just that…well…oh, never mind, it isn’t your problem,” Warden Perry said.

            “What isn’t my problem?” Gavin said.

            “Don’t trouble yourself, Lee,” Warden Perry said. “We’ll find another way.”

            “To do what?” Gavin said. “Tell me.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes.”

            “Well, it’s your cellmate.”

            “Dawson?” Gavin said with sudden concern. “What about him?”

            “He’s got troubles, Lee. Bad troubles.”

            “But, I just said goodbye to him,” Gavin said. “He never said a word.”

            “Nor would he. Dawson is a proud man, Lee. A proud man.”

            “Too proud to tell his cellmate and friend?”

            “Yes, I’m afraid,” Warden Perry, said. “You see, he didn’t want to burden a man about to be reunited with his wife after three years. You see, his wife needs surgery. Breast cancer and…well…to be honest, money is a problem.”

            “My wife is holding all my bet money for me,” Gavin said. “As soon as I get home, I’ll send him what he needs.”

            “That is a very generous offer and tells me what kind of man you are, Lee, but think of poor Dawson and how he must feel,” Warden Perry said.

            “His pride?” Gavin said.

            “Bingo.”

            “So what can we do?”

            “Well,” Warden Perry said. “Let’s talk about that. How would you like your eggs? I take mine poached.”

            “Poached is good.”

                        *                      *                      *                      *                      *         

            Gavin couldn’t believe he agreed to do this, but after talking to Dawson, he felt so bad, so low, that he saw little other option. Dawson was a fighter and a damn brave one and in his three years time, Gavin and Dawson fought a total of nine times. Each time they fought, Gavin emerged the victor. Although both men were of equal size, Dawson was the type of fighter who was unable to adapt. Like Joe Frazier who could only fight one way, Dawson could never change his style to suit his various opponents. Not that he didn’t try, he did and it was just that he lacked the ring skills to execute what his mind told him to do. For instance, his jab. Whenever Dawson threw a jab, he telegraphed it with a roll of his left shoulder. This allowed Gavin to beat him to the punch by timing his jab. The same for Dawson’s right hook and so on.

            Their first three fights were big money makers as guards and inmates bet heavily on Dawson figuring he was the favorite simply because he was black. However, by the fourth meeting of the two, interest waned as it became evident Dawson would never beat Gavin inside the ring. The guards attempted to arrange a cage match in their cell where they could use chairs and whatever else they could find to beat each other senseless, but that didn’t fly with the prison population.

            Therefore, the plan was genius in its simplistic approach. Spread the word that Gavin would take a dive and the inmate population would bet their last dollar on Dawson, especially when they saw the only bet for Gavin came from Warden Perry, who wasn’t in on the plan. Then for six rounds, Dawson would batter Gavin around the ring and just when the fight looked like a sure thing, Gavin would do what he did nine previous times and knock Dawson senseless. Warden Perry would win big and split the take right down the middle with Dawson.

            “Are you sure you want to do this?” Dawson said to Gavin in the privacy of their cell. Well, Gavin’s former cell, actually.

            “Would you take a handout?” Gavin said.

            “No.”

            “Then I’m sure.”

            “You’re going to have to take a beating for five, six rounds.”

            “I know.”

            Dawson sat on his bunk and started to cry like a schoolgirl, holding his head in his massive hands. It was embarrassing for Gavin to watch.

            “This is not cool before a fight,” Gavin said.

            “I know, man,” Dawson said. “But, I just love you, man. I just love you.”

            “Well, that’s good and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t break my nose,” Gavin said. “My wife is picking me up in two hours and I’d like to be in some kind of shape for…well, you know.”

            “I understand,” Dawson said. “I’ll do my best and God bless you, man.”

                        *                      *                      *                      *                      *

            When Gavin and Dawson entered the sixteen-foot square boxing ring in the yard, two thousand prisoners and one hundred and twenty correction officers cheered their lungs out. Most rooted for Dawson and not because they disliked Gavin. They were gambling addicts, every last one of them and they stood to make fortunes when Dawson finally avenged his previous nine losses.

            Gavin did his best to take a beating, but Dawson was so slow, so awkward a fighter that he really had to work hard at it. At one point in the middle of the first round, Gavin had to throw his face against Dawson’s gloves to make the fight look good.

            By the third round, after sticking his face into dozens of Dawson’s jabs, Gavin’s cheeks started to resemble raw hamburger. The problem was Dawson was tired and sucking wind like a hotel Hoover and Gavin not only had to give his face up as a target, he had to hold Dawson up to keep him from falling over. Literally.

            Between rounds, a con named Gleeson, an old timer, took a look at Dawson, then went to Gavin’s corner. “He’s not looking so good, Lee,” Gleeson said. “Want I should give him an extra minute’s rest?”

            “Give him as long as you want,” Gavin told Gleeson. “Most of the cons and some of the guards can’t tell time anyway.”

            Gleeson returned to Dawson and in plain sight of the warden and guards, pulled out the pocketknife that was illegal for him to possess, and sliced open a lace on Dawson’s glove. It took four extra minutes to repair and that was enough time for Dawson to get some of his wind back and continue the fight.

            For two more rounds, Gavin ran into Dawson’s jabs and right hooks and Gavin’s face swelled twice its normal size while blood ran from his nose and mouth. By the start of the seventh round, Dawson seemed unable to continue and Gavin whispered, “What is it, Dawson? You okay?” and Dawson answered by vomiting on Gavin’s shoes.

            Gleeson called another timeout while some cons cleaned up the mess and Dawson sat on his stool for a seven-minute rest. While Dawson rested, Warden Perry visited Gavin in his corner.

            “You look terrible,” Warden Perry said. “Very convincing. No one will suspect a thing. Do you have enough left in you to take him out?”

            “I’ll do my best,” Gavin said.

            “Good man,” Warden Perry said.

            Finally, Gleeson called time in and Dawson stumbled his way to the center of the ring where Gavin met him and the two men touched gloves. “We have to make this look good,” Gavin said.

            “I’ll do my best,” Dawson said. “And Lee…thanks.”

            “No sweat,” Gavin said.

            “Time,” Gleeson called.

            Dawson stepped back and waited for Gavin to circle to his left and move in. Gavin feinted with his jab, waited for Dawson to take the bait so he could let go with a right hook to Dawson’s face. It was perfect, except that Dawson was so tired all he could do was fall forward directly into Gavin’s path and the two men banged heads. Really hard. So hard, in fact that both Dawson and Gavin were knocked unconscious to the canvas.

            Pandemonium erupted among the inmates and guards as well until Warden Perry entered the ring, inspected both unconscious fighters and declared Gavin the winner on points and by quoting some rule he made up on the spot.

            Which was the reason why, when Patience met Gavin outside the gates of the state prison a free man after three years, he didn’t comment on her pretty, yellow sun dress so much as bleed on it.

                                                            TWO

            Ian said, “Jeeze, Lee, you look like total shit.”

            And he did, too, Patience thought. Swollen nose and lips, right eye nearly completely shut, welts on his forehead, a cut under the left eye and blood everywhere. Even his knuckles were swollen.

            Gavin opened the passenger side door of Ian’s Mustang, flipped up the seat and crawled in back. “I need ice,” he said and flopped over onto his side.

            Ian got behind the wheel. Patience took the front, passenger seat. Ian started the engine and put the Mustang in gear. Just like that, the fairytale meeting Patience planned for months now dissipated like so much smoke in the wind. She watched an old Steve McQueen movie one morning after work when she couldn’t sleep. The Getaway, a McQueen classic. McQueen’s wife sleeps with the warden in order to get McQueen released from prison and then when he walks out the front gates, they have a bittersweet reunion that climaxes with McQueen swinging from a rope into a river. Like that, except without the sleeping with the warden part or maybe jumping into freezing cold water fully dressed. Just the tender, bittersweet moment of a husband and wife reunited.

            Poof, just like that…gone.

            “We passed a Quick Mart on the way in,” Ian suggested. “They probably sell ice.”

            “That will do,” Gavin said.

            Ian parked the Mustang in the Quick Mart parking lot and while Patience fumed and Ian toyed with his new CD player, Gavin entered the Quick Mart and attempted to purchase a bag of ice. Attempted, because the clerk behind the counter was from India or Pakistan or somewhere like that because he wore a turban on his head and spoke very little English. So little, in fact, that he took one look at Gavin’s face and believing he was about to be robbed, he sent for the police by pushing the little 911 emergency button under the counter.

            A deputy from the prison just a mile down the road arrived within minutes and exited his cruiser and looked at Ian and Patience in the Mustang.

            “Just got a call the Quick Mart was being robbed,” the deputy said.

            “We just stopped for ice,” Ian said. “Who robs ice?”

            The deputy looked through the window and saw Gavin waving his arms in a very heated way at the befuddled clerk behind the counter. “Excuse me,” he said and entered the Quick Mart.

            Ian looked at Patience. “You don’t think he tried to steal the ice?”

            “I wouldn’t know,” Patience said, coldly. “But, I wouldn’t put anything past him, the swollen faced bastard.”

            Inside the Quick Mart, Gavin was yelling at the clerk when the deputy walked in and told everybody to freeze. Gavin looked at the deputy and said, “Hey, Dave, what are you doing here?”

            “Jeeze, Lee, you look terrible,” the deputy said.

            “I know,” Gavin said. “That’s why I’m trying to buy some ice.” He looked at the clerk. “But English seems to be in short supply around here.”

            The clerk behind the counter waved a fist at Gavin and squawked like a chicken or at least that is the way it seemed and sounded to Gavin.

            “What happened?” the deputy asked. “I heard you were all done and ready to go.”

            Gavin tried to answer, but the clerk kept squawking and making such a racquet a man could barely hear himself think. “Would you mind, Dave?” Gavin said.

            The deputy turned to the clerk and put a finger to his lips, but for some reason this had the reverse affect upon the clerk and he squawked even louder. The deputy threw up his hands and pointed to the door.

            In the Quick Mart parking lot, Ian and Patience were leaning against the Mustang when Gavin and the deputy came out. Patience was smoking a Virginia Slims. Ian was polishing a smudge on the hood with a handkerchief.

            Gavin said, “Patience, Ian, this is my friend Dave.”

            Ian gave the deputy the once over. “Really?”

            The deputy said to Patience, “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Mrs. Gavin. Even saw your picture once. You’re much prettier in person.”

            “You saw my picture?” Patience said.

            Ian said, “So what’s going on? Who called 911?”

            “Oh, the stupid clerk,” Gavin said. “Doesn’t speak English. He saw my face and thought I was going to rob him. All I want is some ice for the swelling.”

            “I’ll get it for you,” the deputy said. “But first, I’d like to know what happened.”

            “I’d kinda like to know that, too,” Patience said.

            Gavin told them the story. The deputy was very impressed. He said, “I knew the day I transported you from the court to the prison that you were something special, Lee. That was a fine thing you did for a fellow inmate.”

            Ian looked at the deputy. “You drove him to jail?”

            The deputy looked at Gavin. “You don’t hold that against me, do you, Lee?”

            “Never entered my mind,” Gavin said.

            The deputy smiled. “I’ll get you a bag of ice.”

            Back on the road, in the Mustang, Gavin sprawled on the back seat and held the bag of ice against his face.

            Ian said, “The warden and your friend must have cleaned up. What did you get out of it?”

            “The satisfaction of helping a friend,” Gavin said. His cheeks were starting to go numb and he shifted the ice bag to his eyes.

            “Where’s the profit in that?” Ian said. “Getting beat up for free is like getting mugged.”

            “Don’t listen to him,” Patience said. “I think what you did was very gallant.”

            “He wouldn’t take a handout,” Gavin said. “I wanted to send him some of my fight profits, but he wouldn’t take it.”

            Ian suddenly appeared very uncomfortable behind the wheel. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Lee,” he said. “It would have been nice to leave with a little extra cash in your pocket.”

            His eyes were so numb, his vision dimmed and Gavin removed the ice bag for a moment and placed it on his right fist. “I made plenty,” he said. “I sent Patience sixty grand in three years.”

            Patience suddenly appeared as uncomfortable as Ian, who she turned to look at.

            “Well, let’s talk about that,” Ian said.

            “About what?” Gavin said.

            “We’ve suffered a minor setback and by we, I mean you,” Ian said.

            A bad feeling began to arise in the pit of Gavin’s stomach. He set the ice bag on the seat and leaned forward closer to Ian. “I’ve been in prison for three years. On my last day, I agreed to have the snot beat out of me for free. The cop who drove me to prison just bought me a bag of ice and when my wife went to hug me, I bled all over her, so what could possibly qualify as a setback in your opinion?”

            “I invested your money,” Ian said. “Patience agreed that it was a good idea. Triple your investment and surprise you with big money for your coming out.”

            “And?” Gavin said.

            “I purchased some stock,” Ian said. “All legal like. Right, Patience?”

            “Keep me out of this,” Patience said.

            “And?”

            “It did real well,” Ian said. “Doubled, then split, then doubled again. It was worth a fortune.”

            “And?”

            “Why does there have to be an and?” Ian said.

            “Because I know you,” Gavin said. “And because without an and, there wouldn’t be this setback you mentioned.”

            “Right,” Ian said and said no more as he concentrated on his driving.

            After a few very nervous minutes during which time Patience smoked another Virginia Slims, Gavin said, “And?”

            “And what, Lee?” Ian said.

            “And maybe you’d like to tell me exactly what setback I suffered while I was doing the three years that rightfully was yours,” Gavin said.

            “That’s not fair, Lee. That could have happened to anybody.”

            “But it didn’t. It happened to you and I paid for it.”

            “Of for God’s sake, Ian,” Patience said. “Tell him.”

            “I should stop the car first,” Ian said.

            Patience turned around and looked at the bloody pulp that was her husband. “Ian purchased stock in your name for seventeen dollars a share,” she said. “It went to twenty nine, then split, then went to forty one and kept going up and up and up.”

            “It looked like there was no end in sight,” Ian said. “Until.”

            “Until what?” Gavin said.

            “Well, until the bottom fell out,” Ian admitted.

            “It isn’t that bad, “Patience said. “It’s still worth a little something.”

            “How little?”

            “You have to look at the total package,” Ian said.

            “No, I don’t,” Gavin said. He was getting very aggravated and growing more so by the second. “How much?”

            “You mean how little?” Patience said.

            “Either way,” Gavin said.

            “About seventeen cents a share,” Ian said.

            “About or exactly?”

            “Maybe exactly. But look at it this way, for a little while you were a millionaire.”

            “And what am I now?”

            “If you don’t count the four hundred and ninety four dollars in stock you own?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Broke,” Ian, said. “Dead broke. But it’s not that bad, really. You still have us.”

            “I don’t want you,” Gavin said “I want my money.”

            Patience looked at Gavin. “You don’t want me?” There was genuine hurt in her voice.

            “Him,” Gavin said. “I meant him.”

            “Are you sure?” Patience said.

            “Yes.”

            “That’s good,” Patience said. “Because I’d hate to think I waited three years for nothing.”

            “Back to my money,” Gavin said.

            “You mean stock,” Ian corrected him.

            “It’s not as if I didn’t have offers,” Patience said.

            “Stock, money, call it whatever you want,” Gavin said. “The point is, your point is, I don’t have any.”

            Ian shrugged behind the wheel. “Don’t forget you made that deal with the prosecutor to return all the heist money in exchange for a short sentence. You can’t blame me for that.”

            “I had lots of offers,” Patience said. “Especially from young Johnny Depp lead pencil.”

            Ian and Gavin looked at Patience. “What the hell are you talking about?” Gavin said. “The pirate guy from that movie, that guy?”

            Ian suddenly smiled. “I’ll make it up to you, brother-in-law. I have something in the works and it’s sweet. Real sweet.”

            “Ian, stop the car,” Gavin said.

            “What, why?”

            “Because my fists hurt too much to hit the back of your head. I’d like to hit something soft like your face.”

            “Come on, Lee,” Ian said. “Don’t be like that.” He looked at Patience. “He’s being like that again.”

            “Hey,” Patience said.

            “I’ll choke you and we’ll all die,” Gavin said.

            “It’s not my fault your stock tanked,” Ian said. “It was just a bad investment.”

            “I’m making it your fault. Stop the car.”

            Ian sighed and slowed the Mustang to a stop on the shoulder of the two lane, country road. There was no traffic to speak of, just the occasional busload of prisoners being transported to and from the prison.

            “Out,” Gavin said.

            Ian opened the car door and got out, followed by Gavin. They looked at each other. “I could have given you up in exchange for parole after one year,” Gavin said.

            “But you didn’t,” Ian said. “And that shows real character. It makes me proud to be your brother-in-law.”

            Gavin punched Ian in the left eye with his right fist. Ian flew backward and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Gavin’s already swollen and hurt fist hurt even worse and he wanted to beat up on Ian some more, but he didn’t want to risk breaking any bones.

            While Ian held his eye and rolled around on the ground, Gavin grabbed the bag of ice off the back seat and attacked Ian with it. By now, the ice melted and was mostly water, so when Gavin pelted Ian with the bag it did no real damage. It just sloshed around mostly until it finally broke and Ian was doused with freezing cold water.

            Ian yelped loudly and said, “That’s cold, Lee. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

            “I did three years in jail because of you,” Gavin said and shoved Ian onto his back with his foot. “I had forty fights to raise that money,” Gavin said and sat on Ian’s stomach. “Only to get out and find you spent it all on some worthless stock.”

            “Invested, not spent,” Ian said.

            Gavin screamed and started to choke Ian.

            From the front seat of the Mustang, Patience lit a Virginia Slims and watched her husband choke her brother. She was deciding what to do about it when the decision was made for her when a prison bus full of prisoners came scurrying along the road and stopped beside the Mustang.

            Two beefy sheriff’s deputies exited the bus and looked at Gavin, who was choking Ian to the point Ian’s eyes bulged like a frog. “I’ll kill ya, I’ll kill ya,” Gavin yelled at Ian.

            “That looks like Lee Gavin,” one of the deputies said.

            “I believe you’re right,” the second deputy agreed.

            Together the deputies pulled Gavin, who didn’t really want to go, off Ian. Immediately, Ian started wheezing like an asthma victim without his medicine.

            “What’s going on, Lee?” the first deputy said.

            “This imbecile,” Gavin said and pointed to Ian. “Is my brother-in-law and while I was doing my three years, he spent all my money on worthless stocks and now I’m dead broke. I figure he should be just dead.”

            “Invested,” Ian, croaked. “Not spent.”

            The two deputies looked at Ian. “Want us to toss him on the bus, Lee?” the second deputy said. “Got some mean ones on there.”

            “That’s a tempting offer,” Gavin said and looked at Patience. “But my wife probably wouldn’t approve.”

            “Well, alright then,” the first deputy said.

            “By the way, that was a really nice thing you did for Dawson this morning,” the second deputy said. “I wanted to be there, but I had this bus full of assholes to deliver.”

            “Next time,” Gavin said.

            “Sure,” the second deputy said.

            Patience drove the remainder of the way home to their tiny apartment on Manhattan’s upper west side. Gavin sat next to her and didn’t speak. Ian sat in back and wished he had a bag of ice for his swollen, left eye.

            After many miles of silence, Ian said, “Now that you got that out of your system, maybe now you listen to what I have to say.”

            And Gavin turned around and punched Ian in the right eye.

                                                            THREE

            When Ian walked through the front door of the spacious, east side apartment he shared with his wife Muffie-Jo, she took one look at his face and said, “Why do you look like a raccoon?”

            Ian grabbed two cold beers from the fridge, one to drink and one to hold over his eyes. He flopped on the sofa, sipped and held. “Lee punched me, then he punched me again. In between, he choked me and hit me with a bag of water. If that bus full of deputies hadn’t showed up, I don’t know what would have happened.”

            Muffie-Jo sat next to Ian on the sofa. “Bus full of deputies?”

            “Prisoners, really. Only two deputies.”

            “But why?”

            “Well, the prisoners are all chained. It only requires two deputies to transport them,” Ian explained.

            “No, I meant why did Lee punch and choke you?”

            “He’s a hothead, Muffie-Jo. You know that as well as I do.”

            “And that’s why he did that to you?”

            “Not exactly,” Ian admitted. “It’s complicated.”

            “Want to tell me about it?” Muffie-Jo said.

            “Not really. My eyes hurt.”

            Muffie-Jo, dressed in hot pink shorts and a white shirt with the ends tied rather than bother with all those buttons, shifted her weight on the sofa. “They look like they hurt,” she said.

            “They do, they do,” Ian said.

            Muffie-Jo untied the ends of the white shirt and her mountainous breasts were freed from restraint. “Poor, poor baby,” Muffie-Jo cooed.

            Ian looked at his wife’s gigantic breasts. “Yes, poor baby, poor baby,” he echoed.

            “I can make them feel better,” Muffie-Jo said.

            “Yes,” Ian said.

            “Would you like them to feel better?” Muffie-Jo said.

            “Yes, oh yes,” Ian said.

            “Poor baby,” Muffie-Jo said and placed a colossal breast over each of Ian’s eyes. Ian’s face all but disappeared. “There, nice and cool.”

            “Cool,” Ian said. “Oh so cool.”

            As Muffie-Jo, gently rocked Ian like a baby, his thoughts drifted away and suddenly his eyes didn’t hurt so much anymore. Lee drifted in and he tried to shove him out of his head, but true to form, Lee just wouldn’t go. The stubborn bastard. Maybe he should have sold the stock when it peaked, but how is one supposed to know what the peak is? Still, maybe Lee did have a point. He probably shouldn’t have taken his eye off the stock when it was forty something dollars a share, but how was he to know the price would deflate all the way down to seventeen cents in a matter of a week when the market crashed and caused all these problems?

            Really, how the hell was he supposed to know that, huh?

            Muffie-Jo started moving around a bit and Ian opened his eyes, but all he could see was an ocean of soft white. “What are you doing?” he said.

            “Poor, poor baby needs to relax,” Muffie-Jo said.

            Ian shifted his head and Muffie-Jo was removing her hot pink shorts. “I need you to do something for me,” Ian said.

            Muffie-Jo wiggled out of her tong underwear. “I thought I was doing something for you, baby,” she said.

            “Yes, but I mean besides what you’re doing now,” Ian said.

            Muffie-Jo opened Ian’s pants and pulled them down to his ankles. “Like what?” she said and sat on him. “Like something later?”

            “Like…ooh…wait a minute,” Ian said.

            Muffie-Jo leaned forward and smothered Ian with her twin mountains. “What was that, baby?” she said.

            “Ooh…ooh…ooh,” Ian said.

            “Baby, baby, baby,” Muffie-Jo cooed.

            “Ooh…ooh…ooh,” Ian said.

            “Oh, baby, my baby,” Muffie-Jo cooed.

            This went on for another fifteen minutes or so until finally it stopped. As Ian sipped beer that was by this time room temperature, he said, “Muffie-Jo, I need you to do something for me. It’s very important.”

            Naked, Muffie-Jo sat cross-legged on the sofa next to Ian. “What’s that, baby?”

            “You know that big deal I’ve been working on, right?”

            Muffie-Jo shook her head and her massive breasts swayed to and fro. Ian stared at Muffie-Jo’s breasts. It was like watching a giant, breast, music timer. Tick tock, tick tock. He snapped out of it and said, “Never mind. All you need to know for now is that it’s big. Really big. So big, I’m going to need Lee to pull it off, but as I said earlier, Lee is a bit testy with me at the moment.”

            “You mean pissed off?” Muffie-Jo said.

            “That would be an understatement.”

            “So what do you need me to do?”

            “I was thinking maybe you could take Patience to lunch and talk to her,” Ian said. “Ask her to talk to Lee. He’ll listen to her.”

            “Baby, Patience hates me,” Muffie-Jo said.

            “No, she doesn’t,” Ian said. “My sister is the salt of the Earth.”

            “She’s jealous,” Muffie-Jo said. “Of these,” she said and slid a hand under each melon size breast.

            “No, she’s not,” Ian, said. “My sister is very comfortable in her own skin. She had many an opportunity to have a breast enlargement, but didn’t. Now will you do this for me, Muffie-Jo? Please.”

            “All right, what do you want me to do?”

            “Convince Patience to convince Lee to listen to the deal I’m working on,” Ian said. “Take her to lunch, someplace nice.”

            “When?”

            “Call her, set it up.”

            “What if she asks what your big deal is?”

            “She won’t,” Ian reassured Muffie-Jo. “Patience is to smart for that.”

            Muffie-Jo sighed and her massive breasts sighed right along with her. “Okay, I’ll call her,” she said.

                                                            FOUR

            Patience came off the night shift and met Muffie-Jo on the corner of

114^th Street

and

Columbia Avenue

at eight fifteen in the morning. Muffie-Jo suggested lunch. Patience told her it was a bit early in the day for lunch, maybe breakfast. Even though Muffie-Jo had her appetite set on lunch, she agreed.

            They walked eleven blocks south to the Amsterdam Diner, which was on Broadway so the name really didn’t make sense, but that didn’t really matter much. Breakfast was breakfast no matter where you ordered it, Patience reasoned. Muffie-Jo didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

            They took a booth by the window that overlooked Broadway. Patience ordered strawberry pancakes. Muffie-Jo asked for a cheeseburger with fries and a large Coke, figuring that if you ordered luncheon food at breakfast it really made it lunch.

            “So what did you want to talk about that was so important?” Patience said as she sipped coffee.

            Muffie-Jo also ordered coffee and she took a sip and looked at Patience over the rim of the cup. “Ian wants to talk to Lee,” Muffie-Jo said. “But Lee doesn’t want to talk to Ian.”

            “Ian is my brother, but Lee is my husband,” Patience said.

            Muffie-Jo stared at Patience. “Yes, I know that,” she finally said.

            Their waitress arrived with plates of food. She set the cheeseburger in front of Muffie-Jo and said, “Cheeseburger,” then set the strawberry pancakes in front of Patience and said, “Strawberry pancakes.” Then she turned and walked away.

            “Why do they always do that?” Muffie-Jo said.

            “Do what?”

            “Announce what they put in front of you like it’s some kind of surprise when you can plainly see what it is and you asked for it in the first place.”

            “I don’t know,” Patience said. She cut into her pancakes with a fork. “Back to what we were discussing.”

            “Right,” Muffie-Jo said. “Ian wants you to use your influence on Lee to make him talk to Ian about some big deal he has going down.”

            “What influence?” Patience said as she lifted a forkful of pancakes into her mouth.

            “You’re his wife,” Muffie-Jo said.

            Patience chewed pancakes, tasting the strawberries. She thought they tasted out of season, but she wouldn’t complain. After all, she did ask for them. She said, “I am Lee’s wife, but he just did three years that Ian owed, so Lee is just a little bit pissed off at Ian right now. Maybe if Ian didn’t lose all that money, but he did, so I don’t see what influence I have over him at the moment.”

            Muffie-Jo looked at the pathetic bumps showing through on Patience’s white hospital shirt. She thought that if Patience had breasts larger than two raisins, then maybe her influence over Lee would be greater. But, that was just a thought. “How well do you know your brother?” Muffie-Jo said, deciding to try a different approach.

            “Ian is a liar, a cheat, a hustler and a thief,” Patience said. “He is also a scam artist, a pickpocket, a hijacker, a dealer of stolen goods, and a swindler of old ladies for their life savings. If there were a profit in it, my brother would strangle kittens in front of children.”

            Muffie-Jo stared at Patience. “Yes, well,” she said.

            “Would you like to know what Ian is not?” Patience said.

            Muffie-Jo nodded her head.

            “Smart,” Patience said.

            “How could you say Ian isn’t smart,” Muffie-Jo said. “He’s always all the time thinking things.”

            “All that other stuff doesn’t bother you,” Patience said. “But say he isn’t smart and you show your claws.”

            “I’m not showing anything,” Muffie-Jo said. “Besides, all those other things are true. It’s why he’s so cute.”

            Patience forked in some more pancakes and washed it down with coffee. “My brother may be cute, but let’s be clear Muffie-Jo, he’s a screw up. That’s why he needs Lee, so why don’t we cut through all the crap and you tell me what ridiculous scheme he’s dreamt up so I can tell Lee.”

            “I honestly don’t know,” Muffie-Jo admitted. “All Ian would tell me is that it’s big, really big.”

            “Big, really big,” Patience said. “Ian said that.”

            “That’s all he said and that’s all I know.” Muffie-Jo took another bite of her cheeseburger and washed it down with some Coke. “I wish I knew more, but you know how secretive Ian can be when it comes to his projects.”

            Projects, Patience thought. Ian always referred to his crimes as projects because that’s how he saw them. Maybe that helped clear his conscience, thinking that he wasn’t really stealing or cheating some old woman out of her life savings, that what he was really doing was planning a project. Like school, which he never bothered to attend, other than to sell stolen homework in the lobby..

            After a full minute of silence, Muffie-Jo said, “Well?”

            “Lee would never talk to Ian based on big, really big,” Patience said. “Lee plans everything right down to the smallest detail and Ian knows that. That’s why he needs Lee. To plan his details.”

            “So you won’t talk to him?” Muffie-Jo said. He voice sounded rather hurt.

            “I didn’t say that,” Patience said. “I will talk to Lee, but only because it’s so much fun watching him have a meltdown.” That was true; Patience did always enjoy a good Lee meltdown. It would start with a clenched jaw that created so much pressure in his face; it cracked teeth. Then a thick, purple vein would appear on the left side of his neck and travel up to his forehead where she could actually see it pulsate. That was followed by silent fist clenching, which would last for a minute or so. She knew he was closing in on a first rate, complete snap when she heard him start with the, “Goddammit all to hell,” which was repeated a dozen or more times in succession. Last was an all out physical assault on something or somebody. Since Lee’s testosterone was programmed never to hit a woman under any circumstances, if another man wasn’t around for him to beat up, this usually led to broken dishes or appliances. There were times when Patience would open a beer, light a Virginia Slims and take a seat on the sofa so as not to miss one single second of Lee’s snap, it was that entertaining.

            “There is no need to be embarrassed,” Muffie-Jo said. “We all know about Lee’s fits of anger.”

            “I’m not embarrassed,” Patience said.

            “You’re blushing,” Muffie-Jo said. “I can see it.”

            Patience realized that she was indeed red in the face, but not out of embarrassment. Lee’s tirades, if they were alone and he didn’t have the release of beating some hapless slob nearly to death, ended with his pent up anger energy being transmitted to pent up, sexual energy and he took it out on her.

            Armed with an erection you could hunt deer with, Lee would mount her like a crazed stallion and…

            “There, you’re blushing again,” Muffie-Jo, said.

            “What?” Patience said. “No, I’m just warm.”

            “So will you talk to Lee?”

            Patience forked in some more pancakes and smiled at Muffie-Jo. “As soon as I get home,” Patience said, feeling her skin flush.

                                                            FIVE

            Patience was damn near bowlegged as she hobbled to the bathroom to take a pee. As she sat on the toilet, she had to admit this was one of Lee’s finest snaps, resulting in pent up, sexual energy that would make the Mount Saint Helen’s eruption seem like a burp. And all it cost was a couple of broken lamps that she picked up at the dollar store on the way home from breakfast with Muffie-Jo just for the occasion.

            Now, of course, Lee was flat on his back and just short of comatose. After a little while, his strength would return and he would get up starving and consume just about everything edible in the house. That would be his weak moment and the time to bridge the gap between him and Ian.

            Patience came off the toilet and ran the bath. She tossed in bubble bath and some oils and while the tub filled, she went to the kitchen to fix some sandwiches. She carried a tray with sandwiches and soda into the bathroom, pausing briefly to inspect Lee. He was awake, sort of.

            Patience set the tray on the sink and then glided into the hot tub of soapy water. She barely had time to close her eyes when she heard him roar, “Patience, I’m starving. What do we got to eat around here?”

            “In the bathroom,” Patience said.

            “When you come out, can you fix me something to eat?” Gavin said.

            “No, I mean there’s food in the bathroom. On the sink.”

            Lee came in and looked at the plate of sandwiches. “Rather odd place isn’t it?” he said and snatched up a thick turkey on white.

            “I anticipated,” Patience said.

            Gavin took a huge bite out of the sandwich and crumbs fell everywhere, to his chest hair, to the floor, even into the tub.

            Patience shifted her legs to make room. “Why don’t you get in?” she suggested.

            Gavin took another bite and the sandwich all but disappeared. He snatched up another and climbed over the rim of the tub. “Water’s hot,” he remarked.

            “That’s why it’s called a hot bath,” Patience said.

            Gavin sat in the hot water, slowly lowering himself until his butt touched water where it stayed for a moment until he deemed it safe, then he submerged himself all the way in. Water slogged, soap got on his sandwich, but he didn’t seem to mind or care and he attacked the second sandwich with all the vigor of the first.

            “We need to talk,” Patience said.

            Gavin took that as a red flag. “No more about your brother. I haven’t the strength.”

            “About us.”

            That was an even bigger red flag. “I just got home not even a week. We have to have this talk now?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            “Because.”

            Gavin polished off the second sandwich, reached for a soda and pulled the tab. “Because is not an answer,” he said and took a sip. “Could you be more specific?”

            “Because I said so, is that specific enough?”

            Gavin took a moment to run a maintenance check of recent events. He hadn’t been home long enough to screw anything up to any large degree, unless you count clogging the dishwasher as a major event. He slept late the first two days, but that was to be expected after three years of incarceration, and Patience didn’t seem to mind. He was dead broke and that was a biggie, he would give her that, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t ask her idiot brother to invest his hard fought money in some worthless stock. If anything, Patience should be having this conversation with Ian and not him. Then there was the issue of…

            “Do not do that,” Patience said.

            “What?”

            “Run through that detailed checklist in your head.”

            “I wasn’t.”

            “Yes, you were,” Patience said. “Your eyes all but rolled back in your head. Hand me my cigarettes.”

            Gavin reached for the pack, matches on the floor, gave them to Patience, and she lit one. Blowing out the match, she said, “How long have we been married?”

            Trick question. “With or without prison time?” Gavin said. “Thirteen years without, eight if you discount my time served.”

            “Thirteen,” Patience said. “Let’s work with that.”

            “Sure,” Gavin said. “Thirteen.”

            Patience sucked on the Virginia Slims and blew smoke. Gavin watched the smoke rise to the ceiling where it dissipated against the white tiles. “Have I ever asked you for anything in all that time?” she said.

            “Anything?”

            “Yes, anything.”

            “I can’t really think of anything off the top of my head,” Gavin admitted.

            “That’s because I haven’t,” Patience said. “I’ve sat by for thirteen years and watched you plan your jobs and have a fine old time running around stealing things and never said one word.”

            “Five years in jail is not a fine old time, Patience,” Gavin, pointed out.

            “Leslie Gavin, shut up while I’m talking,” Patience said.

            Gavin knew this was serious now. Patience never called him by his Irish, Christian name unless she was really pissed. Besides his parents, who were living in a retirement home in Florida, the only other living soul who knew his Christian name was Patience. Not that he was ashamed of his name, he wasn’t. Leslie was a grand, old, Irish name, steeped in tradition of the old country. It was just that this was not the old country and in the new world, Leslie was a name generally reserved for women. His parents, father included, never grasped the difference. The prison shrink during his first stretch felt the source of his great rage stemmed from the childhood teasing he endured from being called Leslie in school and often mistaken by teaches for a girl. As soon as he grew, he started to lift weights and then learned how to box and anybody who teased him felt his wrath. There was this one time…

            “Do not do that,” Patience said. “Now is not the time to analyze the sacred roots of your Irish name.”

            “I wasn’t…”

            “Now is the time for us to have a baby, Lee,” Patience said.

            If a ton of bricks suddenly fell from the heavens directly onto Gavin’s head, he couldn’t have been more stunned. Instead of Ian being the source of this “We need to talk,” talk; it was a baby that was on Patience’s mind.

            “I’m not getting younger and neither are you,” Patience said. “The Gavin bloodline ends with you unless we do something about it and in a few years, I’ll be too dried up and then where will you be.”

            “I’ll be right here,” Gavin cracked. “Childless and happy.”

            “And alone,” Patience added.

            Gavin stared at Patience as she blew cigarette smoke. “You’re serious?”

            “As a heart attack,” Patience said. “And I know about those.”

            Think, think, think, Gavin told himself. “I’ve been out less than a week,” he said. “Maybe if your brother hadn’t lost all my money we’d be in a better position to talk about a baby, but he did. Plus, and don’t forget, I had to fork over all the profits from our last job to plea bargain my sentence down to three years. Thank you Ian very much.”

            “I make a good salary, plus benefits, one of which is three months paternity leave,” Patience said. “All you need do is find some kind of employment. Otherwise, I’ll toss you out, divorce you and that will be that. Am I understood, my husband?”

            “Employment?” Gavin said.

            “That would be a job, Lee,” Patience said. “Ever have one of those?”

            Gavin searched his memory banks for any references to gainful employment. There was the time he worked for…then there was that other time…no, maybe that was somebody else.

            “Paperboy, age twelve,” Patience said.

            “Are you sure?”

            “That’s how we met, don’t you remember? You used collection day as a way to case the better homes for things you could steal,” Patience said. “You stole a blender, a toaster, a coffee pot and a radio from my kitchen before I caught you going through my mother’s silverware drawer.”

            “You never told on me,” Gavin said.

            “I’m not telling on you now,” Patience said. “All I’m saying is I want a baby. If you won’t give me one, I’ll divorce you and find someone who will.”

            “You’re not serious?” Gavin said, feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was very serious indeed.

            “Test my fortitude, Lee,” Patience said. “Go on, test it.”

            Gavin had no desire to test her fortitude or whatever else she decided to throw his way to test. But a job? That was pushing the limits of his manhood and pride to the breaking point, further even.

            “So, what’s it going to be?” Patience said.

            Jesus, she was relentless. “If it’s a boy, I’ll not name him Leslie,” Gavin finally said. “And definitely not Ian.”

            “What if it’s a girl?”

            “A girl?” Gavin said as if surprised to learn that any offspring of his might be something other than male.

            “Yes, a girl,” Patience said. “It’s a fifty, fifty shot he could be a she.”

            “I’ll have no son of mine being born a girl,” Gavin said. “And that’s final.”

            Patience rested her head against the rim of the tub with the Virginia Slims dangling from her lips and smiled at Gavin. “I’ll settle for a boy,” she said. “As long as it’s soon.”

            “Soon meaning what?” Gavin asked. “A month, six months, what?”

            “Soon as in as soon as you’re financially secure,” Patience said. “I don’t care if you find a job or pull a job, but that’s my final word on the subject.” To emphasize her point, Patience stood up, stepped out of the tub and marched soaking wet to the bedroom.

            Gavin sighed deeply and rested his head against the rim of the tub. He could hear Patience drying herself with a towel in the bedroom. Just from the sound of the towel, he could tell she was still pissed. Knowing Patience, she would stay pissed until he complied with whatever it was she was pissed about. She had the memory of an elephant and the tenacity of a cobra and if he wanted any peace and quiet in his life, he best make a decision that would satisfy her.

            Divorce was out of the question. He was, after all a Christian and more important, he couldn’t live without her, so he took that option off the table. Having an heir, especially a male one was not the worst thing in the world and would at least ensure the survival of the Gavin bloodline.

            That left employment. Just the word made Gavin sick to his stomach. All that time and energy spent only to see a third or more go to taxes, a boss to contend with, a commute to an office and people to put up with and he hated people more than the thought of a job.

            Gavin felt a cold chill run down his spine

            In the bedroom, as Patience slipped into a robe, Gavin called to her. “Hey, P, fix me a couple more sandwiches,” he said. “I’ll need all my strength if I’m going to call your brother.”

            As she tied the robe in place, Patience hoped her brother would survive the call.

                                                            SIX

            Gavin strolled leisurely along

Amsterdam Avenue

on Manhattan’s upper west side to the Broadway Pub and Grill. For as long as he had been frequenting the place, Gavin always wondered why a bar on

Amsterdam Avenue

was named Broadway anything, but he never inquired as to the nature of the name. He just let it go and wondered, figuring that if it were important, somebody would tell him.

            When he left the apartment, Patience was in a much better mood, so much so that she suggested they make love a second time, this time while he was clear headed and lucid, whatever that meant. Afterward, she prepared a lovely afternoon snack and they watched The Young and the Restless together on the sofa. Like all daytime soap operas, the show was geared toward the housewife audience, but Gavin became a closet addict when it was on the television in the rec room for three years running. Now he needed his daily fix of Victor Newman and the host of dysfunctional citizens of the fictitious Genoa City, Wisconsin.

            Patience was a casual observer. Most of the time, she was sound asleep during the afternoon and into the early evening, rising around eight PM, so when they sat on the sofa and she flipped channels and it came on, Gavin was secretly delighted when she set the remote aside to watch. He didn’t make a face or complain for fear she would switch to something else. He simply ate the snack she prepared, sat back and secretly wished someone would kick old Victor’s ass.

            As he strolled along

Amsterdam Avenue

, Gavin wondered what that vicious bastard Victor Newman was cooking up next. He seemed hell bent on screwing all his business competition right into the ground and his conscience be dammed. What an evil bastard.

            Oh wait, he walked right past the Broadway Pub and Grill. Before turning around, Gavin glanced at his watch. The time was five fifteen, fifteen minutes after his appointed meeting with Ian. This was a very difficult thing for Gavin to accomplish. Lateness was a Cardinal sin to his detail oriented sense of professionalism. However, times as well as details meant nothing to Ian, so five PM usually meant five thirty or thereabouts. It was as if Ian was on an altogether different time zone or something.

            Just for good measure, Gavin waited another five minutes, then strode into the bar with a there, how do you like it expression on his face and was immediately disappointed to find Ian wasn’t present among the afternoon drinkers. A few heavy-duty regulars lined the bar, a pair of middle-aged women on the make occupied a table, a passed out wino sat at a table with his face in a bowl of peanuts shells.

            Gavin went to the bar and took a stool. The bartender, a cheery, fat fellow named Garko, waddled over and said in his cheery voice, “I heard you got out. Congratulations.”

            “Thank you,” Gavin said.

            “Want a beer?” Garko said.

            “Sure.”

            Garko didn’t ask what type or brand of beer, Gavin desired, he simply poured a beer on tap and set the glass on a coaster. “A buck fifty,” he announced, cheerfully.

            “That’s Hollywood prices, isn’t it?” Gavin said.

            “Hey, you been gone three years,” Garko said.”

            Gavin placed a ten-dollar bill on the bar and Garko made change. Gavin took a sip of tap beer and said, “I’m waiting for my friend.”

            “Wait away,” Garko, said. “Just so long as you keep drinking while you wait.”

            “Ian, specifically,” Gavin said. “He’s late or maybe he’s been in already and I missed him.”

            “Miss away,” Garko said. “As long as you keep drinking while you do it.”

            Gavin took a sip of the cold, foamy beer and said, “Have you seen him and by that I mean today?”

            “Ian?”

            “Yes, Ian. I just said Ian, didn’t I?”

            “I like to be clear when discussing a person who isn’t in my presence,” Garko said. “To be precise, we’re talking about your brother-in-law Ian.”

            “Yes.”

            “Devilishly handsome fellow about your age, although he appears decades younger,” Garko said. “Married to something-Jo with the hooters. That Ian?”

            “Yes, that Ian. Yes.”

            “Haven’t seen him, but if you desire to wait, drink up and order another,” Garko said, cheerfully.

            Gavin nursed his beer for fifteen minutes and all the while Garko shooting him hurry up and drink dirty looks. Finally, when the glass was empty, Gavin nodded to Garko who rushed to fill it with tap beer, make change and give himself a buck tip.

            Gavin nursed the second beer to the half way mark and was toying with the idea of screw Ian when Ian walked through the door. He spotted Gavin at the bar, waved and smiled as if he were right on time instead of fifty-seven minutes late, then meandered over to stand beside Gavin. “Hey, Garko,” Ian said as friendly as you please. “How about a beer for me and my friend here?”

            Gavin held up his half-full glass. “I already have one,” he said. “In fact, this is my second one since I’ve been waiting.”

            Garko, cheerful as always, poured two beers on tap and set them up on the bar. He looked at Ian, who made no move to reach for his wallet, then looked at Gavin’s change on the bar and removed three dollars from it, plus another tip, leaving nothing of the original ten left by Gavin.

            Ian picked up his beer and took a thirsty sip. “Cheers,” he said.

            “Never mind the cheers,” Gavin said. “You’re an hour late for a meeting you wanted to have.”

            “An hour? Really?” Ian said and polished off his beer, then reached for the fresh beer Garko poured for Gavin. “I lose track of time when I’m conducting business.”

            Gavin took a sip of his beer, which by now was warm. He looked at the fresh beer that was rightfully his being swallowed up by Ian. “So, what’s this big deal of yours that’s sweet, real sweet?”

            “Jeeze, Lee, we really shouldn’t talk about it at the bar,” Ian said.

            “Where should we talk about it?” Gavin said.

            “How about a table away from prying ears?” Ian suggested.

            “Ears don’t pry, they listen,” Gavin pointed out. “Eyes pry.”

            “That, too,” Ian said. “Hey, Garko, bring a couple of fresh ones to a table for us,” Ian said and walked away from the bar to a table against the window.

            Gavin followed Ian to the table, sat and a moment later Garko arrived with two fresh beers. The second Garko placed the beers on the table; Ian lifted his and took a sip. Garko looked at Ian, then at Gavin. Gavin sighed, removed a twenty from his pocket and handed it to Garko. From his pocket, Garko made change and went back to the bar.

            Ian took a few more sips of beer and then announced, “I’m kind of hungry. Maybe we should go to a diner or something?”

            “Maybe not,” Gavin said. “Maybe we should sit here and maybe you should tell me what your score is. How would that be?”

            “Jeeze, Lee, when did you become so touchy?” Ian said.

            “Since I did three years that you owed and I’m getting touchier by the minute thinking about all the money I should have but don’t,” Gavin said.

            “Well,” Ian said.

            Gavin sipped his beer, waited, then said, “Well, what?”

            “Nothing,” Ian said. “That well was rhetorical.”

            “Is your score rhetorical?”

            “No, no, that’s for real and it’s a good one.”

            Gavin took another sip of beer, waited some more, then said, “Would you care to tell me about it? That is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

            “You know, I’m kinda hungry.”

            “I’ll make you a deal,” Gavin said. “I won’t punch you if in the next ten seconds you start telling me something useful. If I like what I hear, I not only won’t punch you, I’ll take you for some burgers.”

            Ian smiled and reached into his pocket, came up with a shiny new dime and placed it on the table. “How many of these do you think it takes to add up to fifteen point two million dollars?” he said almost as cheerfully as Garko.

            “I hate riddles,” Gavin said.

            “Take a guess.”

            “About one hundred and fifty two million.”

            Ian was surprised. “Really? That many, huh?”

            “How many were you thinking of?” Gavin said.

            “Eight.”