Patton Lee Beaugus | December 2, 2010 4:45pm
Evil companions! Worse than the normal clientele of toothless Westies, sucker punchers, guys who steal ATMs and grannies' social security
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There I was in the big corner booth of Rudy’s Bar in Hell’s Kitchen wondering what I’d fallen into, looking up at a mustachioed wide-body in a pinstriped suit, who seemed to come with his own Christmasy Theme Music, with Christmas Bells, even. |
“What’s going on?” asked the scarey guy.
All three of my new acquaintances talked at once.
“She’s telling this outsider the plan, boss. She says he’s The Guy. Just downloading our Christmas Songs. This can't be the place, Louie! The Pig isn't even checking IDs. There are fake Santas in every big store. I just got here. This place isn't anything like Rudy's back home. She pulled her electron-gun on me. My song is mixed! Total clusterfreakingfck. The service in here sucks.”
Wow, everything but 'the dog ate my homework'.
"There is no table service," I informed them.
In the silence that followed, the boss said nothing to them, but looked directly at me and smiled, sticking out a paw. “I’m Louie… the producer of this thing.”
Molly looked incredulous, “Producer?”
HiTone snickered.
“I’m Paddy.”
Molly put a hand on my shoulder like she was vouching for me. Every time she touched me, I wanted to rub up against her like I was a puppy.
HiTone added, “She wants us to bet the entire caper on a slack-jawed beer-soaked derelict.”
Molly grinned at him. “Yeah, what we need is another cartoon-fixated WOPorican.”
"We'll probably get shot down in the street, anyway. Or the sleigh will land on us."
Louie frowned a question at Molly. She nodded, smiling.
Gesturing to the empty bench seat next to HiTone, Louie asked “May I?”
I nodded. If HiTone was intimidating, this soft-spoken guy was absolutely dead scary. He looked like an shot put champion who grew up in the cartage business tossing bodies around instead of 16 pound balls.
“Your Mac?”
I nodded again.
“Do you get decent WiFi here?”
He had a look that made me think that shaking my head “no” instead of nodding in the affirmative was a bad idea. As I’m now in the habit of nodding instead of talking, I did it again. I saw Vinnie and Molly nodding with me.
“It’s perfect.”
"Did Clydie make it through?" he asked Molly.
"I don't think so. Her signal doesn't register."
"I knew it. We're screwed black and purple," said the little guy. "Purpler than HiTone's zoot suit."
"We'll just need to make another d-stop or two," said Molly. "We knew going in this wasn't going to be easy."
Louie turned to me. “What have you heard?”
What have I heard? “Molly’s rap and his Most Wonderful Time parody,” I answered unsurely — like it was a test I hadn’t studied for. He kept staring at me. “They were pretty good,” I added, wondering if that was the right answer.
He gave me a hard look, like he thought I was bs-ing him. I tried to put on my sincere look, but it hasn't fit for a long time.
He took one look at my sincere look and laughed. Everybody laughed with him.
It occurred to me I might have fallen in with seriously evil companions, even more so than the normal Rudy’s clientele of toothless Westies, sucker punchers, guys who steal ATM machines, social security impersonators, and dealers in party favors. And these guys definitely weren’t from around here.
And what were they doing in a Hell's Kitchen joint like Rudy's on Christmas Eve, assuming they had any place else to go?
And why did Molly want me with them? And what was I doing there with them? And why?
Why? Maybe it was because I gave off a vibe that attracted evil companions, because I always wanted to be evil. At least I thought I did!
