“Duhda dudah DUNGH DAAAH...ba baba ba ba BAAAH...”
Teddy Kraus smacked the strings of his air guitar, the fingers of his left hand trembling on the cords. His back arched toward heaven. His head writhed against the guitar neck. Rock out! Get up! Everyone was out of their seats.
The elevator arrived.
Teddy got in. He faced the back and blotted his huge forehead and dome with a folded handkerchief. Everyone shuffled around to avoid touching each other. They uncomfortably avoided making eye contact with Teddy.
Two young women in cotton summer blouses, work skirts, and white pumps giggled.
“You’re looking lovely today, ladies,” Teddy boomed.
More giggles.
“Why is that funny?”
There wasn’t a good answer.
The doors opened on parking level two and Teddy got out. “Remember, folks. Today is the first day of the rest of my life.” He hummed as he walked through the garage. He put his hand in his pocket and a shiny, candy-apple-red BMW with vanity plates that said MAKE ME chirruped electronically and flashed its lights twice.
“Lassie waits for her master outside the school gates.”
He gave a thumbs-up to a parking lot attendant who sat in a glass kiosk reading the Star. Teddy stopped at the garage exit and slid the sunroof open. He jutted clenched fists skyward and screamed.
“Arrgghhh!”
He listened to the noise then screamed again.
“Arrgghhh!”
The parking lot attendant laughed.
Teddy circled his fist around his right ear in a cranking motion and barked, “Rwoof rwoof rwoof rwoof rwoof.”
The parking lot attendant did the same thing back. The energy level in the garage escalated.
Teddy floored the Beemer and was out of there.
“Bell! Here I come!”
He drummed his hands on the steering wheel.
“Bell babell babell bell bell rwoof rwoof rwoof rwoof.”
Teddy turned left on Third Street, entered the One Eleven south, then circled around the interchange to the Five. He cut a diagonal across four lanes to cruise in lane one, the fast lane.
He punched in the heavy metal station on the radio and raked his fingers through his sparse hair, which danced in the wind.
“Daddy’s coming, baby!”
He twisted the volume up and the bass down and turned on all four speakers.
“Arrgghhh!”
Teddy rode up the tailpipe of the car ahead of him. The driver held his position for two minutes then violently pulled into lane two. Take, it buddy. Teddy did. Then he rode up the tailpipe of the next car. In your face, man. Make me. Just make me. The car pulled over. This was too easy. Then the car in front of that and the car in front of that and then the next one and the next one and the one after that and the one after that. Make meeeeee!
The next car wouldn’t move.
Make me.
The other driver covertly glanced in his rearview mirror without turning his head. He held the lane.
Teddy got closer.
The other driver didn’t care. Teddy didn’t exist. He was a hallucination, a specter, a commuter’s nightmare. The other driver wasn’t moving. He’d take a stand for decency and fair driving habits. Go away, ghost of bad driving. I am not afraid.
“You shit-head-dick-head-sphincter-sucking-dog-fucking-asshole!” Teddy waved his fists menacingly through the sunroof.
The other driver smiled slowly. His adversary was displaying his crucial weakness. I am not afraid.
Teddy pulled right, fast. Across lane two, lane three, touching down in lane four, then back, pedal to the metal, across three lanes. The other driver sped up too, losing his Zen in the adrenaline rush. Teddy came anyway, fast, faster, fastest, cutting in front of the other driver’s front bumper with a hair to spare.
“Arrgghhh!” Teddy held the steering wheel with his knees and raised both arms with clenched fists.
He was king. King of Lane One.
Teddy pulled a glass vial from his jacket pocket, flipped the stopper off with his thumb, and took a victory snort.
At Florence Avenue, he got off the freeway. Teddy had arrived in the city of Bell.
“Made it in half an hour. Gawdalmighty. Where the hell are the cops in this town?”
He drove down Florence Avenue past fast-food restaurants, car dealerships, and corner strip malls.
“Bell! You’re beautiful!” Teddy crowed to the brown air. “I’ll take Jaynie here. Jaynie! Jaynie! Jaynie! She loves me! She just doesn’t know it. Women are like that. Misguided.”
The Four Queens card palace juts from Bell’s stucco L.A. suburban landscape like a piece of Las Vegas sent flying across the desert, over the Sierra Nevadas, landing on Florence Avenue. One by one, the neon queens in the giant fan of four cards glowed red, white, and green. White lights circling the roof blinked crazily off and on, an effect that was lost in the flat, smoggy late-summer sunshine.
Teddy pulled the Beemer into a spot near the door. He took another snort, wiped the residue from around his nose with his index finger and rubbed his finger against his gums. His elastic face stretched into a dreamy smile. He pocketed the vial and chirruped on the car alarm.
He pushed open the swinging doors of the Four Queens and sauntered through the red-and-gold lobby dangling a lit cigarette from his right hand. He paused in front of a large gold-framed photograph that he especially liked of several blond models dressed in period saloon-girl costumes with cleavages squeezed into tight bustiers, standing with their arms around a gambler in a shiny brocade vest, cards held close to his chest, a cigarette on his lower lip. Teddy took a drag on his cigarette, exhaled a long stream of smoke, and imagined his face in the models’ cleavage. Tits galore.
“Non-smoking, one holder, one game, seat open.” The reservation hostess’s amplified voice carried across the room.
“M.S. for the one-three stud.”
The card room was as brightly lit and shadowless as a supermarket. Rows of oval tables made parallel lines across the floor, each dealer’s blue ruffled shirt a dot against the center edge. Voices were subdued with concentration. Poker chips clattered like a field of insects.
The hostess, a heavy-hipped woman in a blue ruffled shirt and tight black pants, stood on a raised platform in front of a large, white board, marking reservations and announcing tables through a microphone suspended from her neck. “Three-six low-ball blind for G.R.. Again, one-three stud for the person with initials M.S. Listen up, folks.”
Teddy made his reservation—“T.K. for five-ten stud, smoking”—then leaned against a brass rail that circled the platform. He drummed the rail with the palms of his hands in time with the band in the lounge and the band in his head, his class ring tapping against the brass. His fingers twitched in an air guitar riff.
“Ted-dy!”
“Ma’am, follow Frankie to your seat,” the hostess said.
Teddy kept tapping.
“Bud-dy!”
Teddy looked out then down into Bobby’s acne-pitted face. “Bob-by! The man!”
Teddy enveloped Bobby’s chubby fingers with his paw.
Bobby clenched the sleeve of Teddy’s jacket and laughed through his nose. He ran his hand up and down Teddy’s arm. “Sheeet. Buddy, where you been?”
Teddy drummed on the rail. “Gardena. Change of scenery.”
Bobby pulled down on Teddy’s sleeve and stretched toward his ear. “Eddie looking for you.”
“M.S. for the one-three stud. Last call.”
Teddy stopped drumming and took a drag from his cigarette. He put the butt out on the brass rail and looked around for a place to throw it, then cupped it in his palm.
“Eddie who?”
Bobby stared at Teddy. Then he laughed through his nose and rubbed Teddy’s sleeve. “Sheeet. Funny guy.” He pulled on Teddy’s sleeve and stretched toward his ear. “You know Eddie who.” Bobby looked across the card room and jerked his head toward a door with a window mirrored in two-way glass.
“Oh, that Eddie.” Teddy flicked the cigarette butt toward the mirrored glass. “Place is quiet since they closed down the Pai Gow games. Sent the Vietnamese boys home. Better lock up Fido. Rwoof, rwoof!”
Bobby snorted. “Vietnamese. Cambodians. No class.” He wore a silk sport coat with an open-necked shirt and a thick gold chain with a shiny flat link around a chubby neck that grew out of his shoulders like a tree stump. The rings of flesh were moist even in the air-conditioned room. He opened his angled eyes wide. “You want Pai Gow? We go Westminster.” He stretched toward Teddy’s ear, looked around the room, and whispered, “Private game.”
“Little Saigon? I’d be the only round-eye there.”
“You think I’m like them? I’m pillipino.” He jammed a finger at his chest. “I look behind me in Little Saigon.” He twisted his stubby body at the waist to demonstrate. “Not smart trust them. Little Seoul, too.” He nodded sagely.
“One seat one-three twenty-one, no-smoking. Follow Frankie to your seat.”
“So, whaddid Eddie say?” Teddy drummed and strummed.
“Ask me if I see you.” Bobby leaned close to Teddy. “Told me tell him if I see you.”
“Frankie will show you to your seat.”
“Eddie Schmeddie.”
“I won’t tell I see you.” Bobby winked theatrically.
“Awwww.” Teddy waved at the air. “He just wants to talk to me about a deal I’m putting together for him. You know, finance.”
Bobby pursed his lips and nodded.
“I should have gotten back to him sooner, but I’ve been busy.”
Bobby nodded again.
“Shoot, you know the way the market’s been.”
“Very busy.”
“T.K. for five-ten stud, smoking, T.K. for five-ten stud, smoking. Follow Frankie to your seat.”
“That’s me, buddy. See ya.”
“Buddy, remember what I tell you.” Bobby pretended he was locking his lips closed with a key.
Teddy pointed his index finger at Bobby.
Frankie stood on the casino floor, holding a two-way radio like a bat and not smiling. He gave Teddy a once-over, then turned without speaking and started to walk.
“Good to see you, too, Frankie.”
“Asshole.”
“Unsweet, Frankie.”
Teddy followed Frankie across the casino, walking with his body tipped back from the shoulders, a cigarette dangling from one hand, the other hooked by the thumb in his pant pocket. He winked at a red-eyed woman at the bar.
“C’mon, talk to me Frank-eee.”
“Eddie’s seen you here.”
“So?”
“You just forgot about Sally Lamb?”
“I don’t keep company with people like that, Frank-eee.”
“Asshole.”
Frankie pointed the walkie-talkie at the one empty chair at a full table.
“Sit.”
Frankie turned on his heel and left.
Teddy rolled back the chair with a flourish and sat with a plop. “Good afternoon, men. Men, men, men, men,” he sang. “Hey, there’s my friend, Sammy.” He leaned over the table to shake hands with a muscular black man in a tight T-shirt. And ladies! Good afternoon.” He bowed toward a matron in a mint green polyester pantsuit.
Her diamond-and-platinum wedding rings cut into her plump fingers. She giggled. The other woman was in her late thirties and was extravagantly dressed in a lavender jumpsuit with a lavender fedora angled over her eyes. Teddy bowed toward her and she nodded like the Queen of England.
Three Asian men in sport coats and open-necked shirts sipped beer. The last man was middle-aged and cowboy handsome, wearing a flat-brimmed hat with a string of silver medals circling the brim. He leaned heavily on tanned, muscular arms that protruded from the sleeves of a white polo shirt.
Teddy pointed at him. “You on TV?”
The man gave a slow smile. “Sometimes.” His skin was flushed and covered with a web of broken veins.
“I’ve seen you.”
The man failed at concealing his delight.
Teddy pulled out a silver money clip engraved TAK III, peeled off ten hundred-dollar bills, and handed it to a passing chip attendant, who wore a red shirt with the Four Queens logo embroidered across the back. Teddy got back several piles of multicolored chips.
The dealer was a Hispanic woman with thick, shag-cut hair and long silver fingernails. She solemnly shuffled the cards, cut, pulled the first card off the top, and moved it underneath the deck. She dealt, sliding the cards off the top with the flat part of her fingers. Her silver nail polish reflected the light.
Teddy reached for his cards.
Frankie and another man took long strides across the room and stood on either side of Teddy. Frankie leaned over and spread his hand across Teddy’s cards, holding them down.
“What?”
“Get up.”
“Why?”
“Eddie wants to see you.”
“Oh man,” Teddy whined, “I just sat down. I can’t get a decent game at this place anymore.”
The dealer gathered the cards, sliding her fingers underneath, her nails scratching the felt table surface. The woman in the mint green pantsuit looked disappointed.
Frankie called the chip attendant over. “Cash him out.”
Teddy folded the cash into his money clip. He straightened his tie and his expression. “Sorry to interrupt the game, ladies and gentlemen. Eddie wants to talk to me about a deal we’ve been working on. Gonna write me a check.” He winked.
Teddy got up from the table and pulled his arm away when Frankie tried to put his hand on it. Teddy made a beeline toward the door with the two-way glass on the other side of the casino. Frankie almost jogged to keep up with him.
Teddy rapped furiously on the door, bouncing on his toes and smoothing his sparse hair in the mirrored glass. The door opened and Teddy pushed his way in, slamming it in Frankie’s face.
The room was vulgarly lush, with a polished black lacquer desk and padded silk on the walls. Eddie sat behind the desk in a white leather chair. He was fortyish and getting even handsomer. He was wearing a big gold watch and big diamond ring and his clothes shouted European. His salt-and-pepper hair was swept back from his Roman face.
“Teddy,” Eddie cooed. “So nice to see you again. Please sit down.”
Teddy nodded feverishly. “Right, Eddie. What do I have to do to get a decent game in this place?”
“Teddy, my apologies for interfering with your evening. Won’t you greet my other guests?”
“You mean the two garlic cloves?”
“Tsk,” Sally Lamb clucked. “These words from such a well-bred boy.” He was fortyish with olive skin and flat, too-black hair combed straight back from his forehead, colored with the comb-through men’s dye that promises subtle changes that no one will notice. A greasy concoction froze the comb’s tracks on the surface. He was a collision of textures and seasons, wearing a wool brown-on-brown houndstooth jacket over a tight, European-cut brown shirt tucked into white, beltless polyester pants. He wore a five o’clock shadow on a bloodhound face. A gold crucifix meshed with the sparse black-and-gray chest hair that showed through the V of his unbuttoned shirt. He was leaning against a wall with his head against the padded silk.
Eddie stood. “I’m going to do my rounds. Make yourselves comfortable.” He shot a glance at Sally Lamb’s head on the silk wall before he walked out and closed the door.
Teddy dropped onto a leather chair facing the desk, his legs sprawled out. “Hey, Sally. The seventies are over.”
Jimmy Easter snickered. He was in his late twenties with olive complexion and black hair cut short and preppie-neat. He was pretty-boy handsome and would mash anyone who said it. He was wearing an expensive raw silk jacket over a plain black T-shirt over a free-weight-big chest and black Levi’s 501s pulled down over black boots with silver tips. The sparkling diamond in his earlobe matched the sparkle in his cobra smile. He was cleaning his nails with a red-handled pocket knife and had not looked up once.
“You’re one real smart-ass, aren’t you, Teddy?” Sally said.
“Sally, the Grecian Formula needs a touch-up,” Teddy said.
Jimmy snickered louder.
Sally gave Jimmy a hurt look.
“Who else would tell you these things, Sally?” Teddy said.
“That just goes to show you what a dumb fuck you are, Teddy. And you”—he shot a look at Jimmy—“had better shut the fuck up.”
“Yeah, Black Bart,” Teddy said.
Jimmy snuffed his smile, glowered at Teddy, and continued to clean his nails.
“What do you two bongos want?” Teddy said. “I’ve got things to do.”
Sally folded his hands in front of him and nodded his head slowly up and down. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Got it all tied up.”
Teddy raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in mock confusion.
“Here you are. College education. Smart boy. Bright boy. And look at you. A disgrace to your mother.”
“Get real. My mother’s a lush. She’s too busy trottin’ around Greece with her boyfriend to care what I do.”
“Shame on you, Teddy.”
“Get a life.” Teddy started to get up. Jimmy snapped out of his chair, caught Teddy by the shoulders, and pushed him back down. Teddy’s complexion reddened with indignation.
Sally put his face close to Teddy’s. “Sit there until I’m done with you.”
Teddy touched Sally’s spray on his cheek.
“Let’s not forget the order here. You’re the one who got yourself into this mess. I’m the one you came to for help.” Sally leaned over and jabbed a finger against Teddy’s chest. “And I helped you. We made a deal. Then what do you do? You don’t follow through. Now, I don’t call that very smart for a smart boy like you. Do you, Teddy?”
Teddy stared a hole through the desk.
“I said, do you, Teddy?”
“No.”
“No, that’s right. Very good, Teddy. Mr. College Educated from Big University and he still don’t know how things work.” Sally flicked his hand against the back of Teddy’s head.
Teddy mumbled, “MIT and Harvard.”
“What?”
“I got my B.S. from MIT and my MBA from Harvard.”
“That’s swell. Were you were a Boy Scout too and helped old ladies cross the street?”
“Those are top schools. You don’t realize…”
“I said it’s just swell, Teddy. Just swell. Now, give me my money.”
“I don’t have it right now.”
Silence.
“You don’t have it right now.”
“I don’t have it right now.
“Hear that, Jimmy? He says he don’t have it right now.”
Jimmy Easter balled his hand into a fist, admired it, then looked at Teddy, and raised a dark eyebrow.
“I gave you everything I had last week. But I get my commission check next Friday. I’ll give you that. That’ll be a start. I’m trying, Sally,” Teddy whined.
“There’s no merit badge for trying. And now you owe me five grand more. For interest and for being an asshole.”
Teddy rubbed one big palm inside the other. “I had the money, Sally. More than enough. But it got away from me.”
“You mean you put it up your nose and gave it to the tables out there.”
Teddy looked at Sally dolefully. “You’ll get it all on Friday. I promise.”
“You promise. What kind of a candy-ass are you, anyway? You promise, you promise. You promised me last week.”
Teddy’s voice went up. “I said I’ll get it for you next Friday.”
“You know, guys like you turn up all the time whacked out and left to rot in the canyon. Faces half-eaten by rats by the time anyone finds ‘em.”
Jimmy spoke. “Ever wonder what it would be like to have your balls in your mouth while you were bleeding to death?”
Teddy’s Sea Island cotton shirt grew deep circles under the armpits beneath his handmade suit jacket. He slumped further down in the chair.
“What am I going to do with you, Teddy?” Sally paced the room with his hands behind his back. “You got a girlfriend, Teddy?”
“No,” Teddy breathed.
“What’s that?”
“No,” Teddy said, louder. “I had a girlfriend. We broke up.”
“Dumped ya, huh?”
Teddy pulled the corners of his broad mouth down. His full cheeks were blotched red. His bottom lip rolled out. Perspiration shined through his sparse hair.
“Girls don’t like losers.” Sally shook his head. “You need to clean yourself up, Teddy. Find a nice girl. Get a nice life. Stop being a jerk.”
Sally paced and stroked his jaw. “Damn shame.” He sucked air between his teeth. He stopped pacing in front of Teddy. “Teddy, I don’t know why I feel sorry for you. I do business with a lot of scumbags. Everyone’s got a story. But you really tear me up.” He sighed. “But business is business, Teddy. You’re a businessman. You understand that.”
He put his face close to Teddy’s. “I got my reputation to think about. I got a boss to report to, too.” He took Teddy’s chin in his hand and squeezed. “Next Friday. I don’t care what you do or how you get it. And don’t make me come lookin’ for you.”
Jimmy Easter ran his tongue over his teeth.