Bay Ridge, Brooklyn:
"This is everybody's fault but mine!"
You think Beyonce really rides the B train?:
"Just let me do the thinking."
"Well, you're me--right?
I can only assume that everybody relaxed and Amir Khan’d the fuck down, because I woke up the next morning unbruised, in one piece; and that cab ride never came up again. At first I was discombobulated and unsure as to where I was. My tongue was sandpaper dry. My eyes crusty. But then I heard Jules’ voice in the background--already up and on the phone; and I began to rewind the events in my addled mind.
Someone must have requested an extra bed since I was on one of those hotel cots with wheels, and I remained there with the skanky blanket over my head as Jules barked into his cheap Samsung.
“No man, were here for three more days. Everything went thru. ...Um hmm. ...Um hmmm. ... I’m not sure what we’re gonna do, but $30,000 dollars should still buy some fun-- even in New York. ...I don’t know, its almost 11:00 now so I’m not...”
Almost 11:00?--what?! I looked at my watch. Shit! This was now Monday so I had appointments. Course I never schedule my Monday stuff too early, so my first appointment wasn’t ‘til 1:00 that afternoon. Still, I had to get home to Brooklyn, put on a jacket and tie, then go all the way down to Bay Ridge. And I travel by train, which meant I had to hump it.
But if there’s one thing I hate (hate!) to do in life its rush. Sure I live in New York, but I take things at my own pace. That’s my life mission. Some guys wanna be rich, others want pussy; but I want to sleep-in as late as I like and take things at my own rhythm. Like my man Wayne. If I have to be at the airport, I get there two hours early; and in the morning I make sure I have time to sip my coffee. Those intermission’s are the best part of the day--so don’t harsh on my buzz.
But stupid life never leaves you alone. I had to run out the hotel; wait on the B train for 15 minutes, all the while my eyes glanced at my watch as my foot tapped on the platform. Course as Homer Simpson would say, “This was everybodys fault but mine.” No way my sour stomach and dried-out sponge of a mind could fuel its way down to Brooklyn without an enemy. Hungover anger was just the ticket to propel me thru the morning til I could shower.
Stupid freaking Jules and his cab rides. You’re a walker Lodo! Since when do you take cabs? But he’s got Buttons and you know she’s gonna wear heels. Alcoholics the two of ‘em. Completely. And Jesus, the guy’s already up? Why man?What do you have to do Jules? Amir Khan down, man. Manic motherfucker. Like Jake used to be. No peace. Gonna get you into a fight before the week’s over. Or arrested. Watch yourself cause he’s reckless. And Buttons encourages him.
Those were my thoughts as I waited impatiently on that platform; but shortly after the train arrived and I got settled into its motion, my bloated belly burped-up a faint taste of vomit to my throat. Vomit, yet also the slightest essence of the red wine sauce from my pheasant under glass. And a bit of briny oyster flavor coupled with the smell of Alaskan King Crab legs, the stank of which must have still been on my hands. I pulled my pocket hand-sanitizer out my jacket and worked it into my palms. Massaged them slowly and gently as I thought about...nothing. ‘Til suddenly a new stream of thought took hold of my mind.
Pheasant under glass--how good was that? And how many Johnnie’s did you have? They bought you a hundred dollar meal last night. And that’s on top of the fight. Plus you got to feel-up on Buttons big titties.
Yeah, that was fun; but lets not count money all the time.
I’m not saying to count money, but we need to be appreciative. That was a hot weekend they showed us.
Alright, but he sort of set us up at that bar too. It wasn’t cool the way he sent us into the unknown like that. Who knows what we could have walked into. And I know there was something ‘bout that credit card, the way he wouldn’t go to the will call.
Whatever, lets just cool out for a bit.
I closed my eyes and sat quietly again as the train descended back underground. My thought's returned to nothing in particular, which of course is when my best thinking’s done.
...He probably didn’t want to call that guy using his own phone.
What?
Jules probably doesn’t want any connection between his phone and that guy Danny’s. That’s why he used us. But think about it, he gave us $20 dollars for the drink plus all that dinner. Hell, he must have paid for that cot at the hotel too. They don’t just give you those.
...It was the phone he was concerned about. I didn’t think of that.
Yeah, well, let me do the thinking.
Well,...you’re me, right?
Lets just cool out ‘til we get home.
To find a calm, quiet place in Manhattan is hard, but in Brooklyn its a lot easier. I dragged my foggy, tired ass thru Bay Ridge like Michael Jordan with the flu. Not a wasted gesture spent as I worked. Complete economy of movement and laser-beam focus if for no other reason than the reserves weren’t there for anything more. I killed at my job that day, but when Buttons called later that evening, I was out of juice and had an appointment the next morning.
“I’m sorry Buttons, but I’ve gotta stay in tonight. Lets get together tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night? Okay,...but, do you have any ideas for Jules and me?”
I gave Buttons about a half-dozen suggestions, one of which was to visit Battery Park and take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. That was the last one I actually expected them to take; but they told me ‘bout it when we met at Jazz Standard on Tuesday.
Truth is I never thought Jules or Buttons would want to see jazz either, but it turns out that Jules’ son is a drummer in his high-school’s marching band. Jules got all wide-eyed and excited when he spoke of his son, and in those moments I began to genuinely like the guy. Particularly at one point as we stood at the bar and Jules turned to me,
“Lodo, listen. I wanna thank you for yesterday and that idea to take the ferry. Particularly when you told us to go at sundown. That’s exactly the way to do it! You’ve got eyes brother. We bought a beer at that little bar on board and (here Jules gestured with a sweep of his hand) passed right by the Statue of Liberty. Beautiful. Then all that red and orange sunburst off those glass towers. Pow man! Like fireworks off the river. We rode it twice, so yeah...that was a great idea. And it didn’t cost a dime!"
Wow reader. I really did come around to Jules in that moment as we stood at the bar and clanked glasses.
So what does he go and do?
* NOTE: Due to the length of this post, I'm gonna split it into more parts. My back's been hurting, but I should be back in a few days with next installment.
* ADDITIONAL NOTE: With the exception of the photos of me, all pics stolen off Google Images. All rights reserved on my pics (why would you want those anyway?).
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