by Michael Dunn
“I woke up on the beach. I think I drank way too much while beach bar hopping and fell asleep a long way from here.”
“Me too,” John said but provided no further details.
A waiter arrived and handed Steven a menu. John ordered more coffee and Steven ordered one egg and toast with coffee. Then the waiter left.
“Have you seen the clown prince of plastic surgery?”
John shook his head. “No, I haven’t been up to the room yet.”
“Oh,” Steven said.
The waiter came back and poured a cup of coffee for both John and Steven. They sipped it. Both were too tired to talk, so they waited until Steven’s breakfast arrived in comfortable silence.
“The coffee is different in Italy,” Steven said, as he dug into this egg and toast.
“Yes, it’s better.”
*
Steven ate quickly, and John waited for him to finish. They paid their bill and headed up to the room together, mostly silent.
John used his keycard to open the door and saw Dan’s cell phone on the couch still attached to the charger, which John thought was weird. He walked down the hall of their shared apartment and peeked in the master bedroom. The apartment, while luxurious, was not large enough to hide for long. It would have been unusual for Dan to go anywhere outside the hotel apartment without his cell phone.
John picked it up and saw that it was fully charged. It was curious, but not troubling, and he was now too tired to care about Dan’s whereabouts. While John searched for Dan, Steven rushed into the bathroom and to shower. John shook his head and headed to his room. He was asleep within five minutes. He did not give a damn what silly adventure Dan was on. He would deal with it when he woke up.
Chapter Nine: Kidnapped
The Italians rode silently in the car, but Dan did not. When he was not humming the theme to The Godfather, he would switch to the opening song to “The Sopranos.” When he grew tired of that, he talked.
“Thank you for this tour of Italy. Tour of Italy. That is what I get when I eat at Olive Garden, however, I can’t eat all in one sitting so there are always leftovers, or it can be three quick meals for another time. Sometimes I would get two orders of their Tour of Italy. One to eat there and the other I would eat during the week. In medical school, I did not have much free time, let alone time to eat well, and because I was either studying or on my feet at the hospital, I needed the extra calories to keep me going. Some of my classmates ate Ramen noodles with Cheese Whiz and Taco Bell sauce all the time, because it was cheap and easy to make, but I had no idea how the hell they did it.
“Ugh. I think my metabolism would have crashed and I would have collapsed at the hospital. God that would have been embarrassing. I mean, if you need to collapse, there is no better place to do it. Am I right? Where are we going? As much as I love seeing the Southern Italian countryside from the windows of a speeding car, you guys never answered that question.
“I’m guessing you will not kill me right away otherwise you would have whacked me in the penthouse and blamed the hooker, which is ironic, because most of the time, it’s the hooker who gets killed by the angry, remorseful john. Here it would have been backward. When this ordeal is over, could you, like, send her back to my place? I mean, yes, she is a hooker and in league with you people and she tried to shake me down for a lot of undeserved money, but she was outstanding in bed. Well, I guess she would have to be if she is a professional at it. Am I right?
“Maybe you could give me her number; because, you know, there might be some night here when I don’t score, but I really have to bust a nut, and she could be delivered, y’know, kind of like the Domino’s Pizza of sex. Having her number would be nice. Although I promise to hide my valuables and not to have interracial-midget-clown-gang-bang porn playing in the background. I don’t know why, but it really freaked her out.
“Also, can you guys turn the heat up a little? I am wearing only my SpongeBob bathrobe, and my frank and beans are feeling a wee bit nipply, if you know what I mean.
“How are you guys wearing suits in this heat? Is it like a uniform for gangsters, to let everyone know you are gangsters and you work for other gangsters? They rarely do that in Miami. You guys should have, like, the gold plated name tags like other service workers wear if that is your uniform for this job. My job requires me to wear a white coat with my name embroidered on it along with several plastic badges that tell everyone I’m a doctor.”
A formerly silent member of the aging goon squad screamed something in Italian and leaned over toward Dan, ready to slap him, but the other two men held him back. The other two yelled at him in Italian and motioned for him to calm down.
“Is the heat getting to him too?” Dan asked.
After calming the other aging thug down, Sergio explained, after he wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief, “You talk too much, you know that?”
“Oh, yeah, people have told me that, like, a million times. Every teacher who has taught me since pre-school has said the same thing. They wrote on all of my report cards: ‘Dan is a great student and is in the head of the class, but he likes to talk a lot.’ It’s just that I blurt out anything and everything that comes to my mind and I usually think of funny things to say, which was why I wanted to be a stand-up comic for years, y’know, since I was a little kid. I created my own routines, and I practiced them in the basement and in my bathroom at home in front of the mirror. However, my Grandma thought it would be unseemly to have a stand-up comic for a grandson, so she forced me to become a doctor.
“Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being a doctor and I am great at it; but sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had been a stand-up comic… or an astronaut… or a rodeo clown, a sexy rodeo clown. There I go with the clowns again. Maybe that’s where I got this weird fetish and…”
Sergio interrupted, “Perhaps it is best that we don’t have to know so much about you. Perhaps you could just enjoy the ride in silence.”
“Perhaps, but probably not. See, I also become talkative when I get nervous or scared, especially during a kidnapping, because this could be the last car ride. You guys persuaded me to accompany you at gunpoint and the fact that you haven’t told me why you kidnapped me makes me extra, extra nervous and the only way I know how to release this nervous energy is to talk, talk, talk, talk, and talk some more. Luckily, my stink guard has not let loose yet. Woo-wee, you do not want to be in a closed car with me when one of those stinkers lets loose. I guess it’s called Fear Farting or something like that. I haven’t really had that since…”
The gangster who resembled Sollozzo from The Godfather screamed again in Italian to Sergio. Sergio did his best to calm his comrade.
To Dan, Sergio suggested, “For the sake of your life and our sanity perhaps you should be silent for the rest of the ride.”
“How much farther is it?”
“Not much farther.”
“Are we almost there yet? I’m hungry because you pulled me out of my apartment before I had breakfast or another round of way-too-expensive sex. I also have to use the bathroom, because you guys wouldn’t let me go before we left. Then again, I didn’t have to go then and…”
The sweaty, almost-elderly gangster, who looked like Michael Corleone’s first kill, lunged for Dan with his hands out to choke Dan, but his two friends held him back and pushed him back in his seat. His friends screamed at him in Italian, and their faces contorted in hateful sneers and turned bright red yelling at old thug number 2, the one who resembled “The Turk” from The Godfather. The other, now formerly silent one, thug number 3, was screaming so fiercely at Sergio that the vein in his forehead throbbed and his face reddened.
“Wow,” Dan said. “If you are experiencing swelling, a change of vision, dizziness, a severe headache, or anything else, besides a minor headache, you should consult a doctor.” Then he whistled ‘The Godfather theme’ again while peering out the window.
*
After what
must have felt like months to the older gentlemen, they had arrived at the gated compound belonging to the Sabella family; armed guards surrounded the compound. The limousine driver checked in and drove up to the imposing house on the hill. The car stopped and the sweaty, over-dressed thugs stepped out and ushered out their American guest firmly placing at the bottom of the steps.
“Wow, swell digs,” Dan said seeing the sprawling house on the hill. Dan placed the edge of his left hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. “Could you have gotten me some sunglasses? I have blue eyes and the sun is blinding me right now.”
At the top of the front steps, a short, pale-faced man with expensively coiffed black hair, who was in his mid-thirties and dressed in an expensive and well-tailored suit met the new arrivals. Thugs 2 and 3 grunted a greeting to the young man at the steps and kept on walking up the steps and into the house after greeting an obese old man sitting in a chair lording over everything.
Sergio stopped at the top of the steps and shouted to the younger man in Italian for a couple minutes, gesticulating towards Dan often. The younger, pale-faced man said nothing, only nodding to whatever the older thug was saying.
The younger man said something to Sergio in Italian, and Sergio walked past him to greet the even more elderly man seated on the porch. The fat man motioned for Sergio to sit down next to him.
“Good afternoon,” the younger, pale-faced man in the suit said to Dan. “It’s okay. You can come up now.”
Dan ascended the steps and a cool breeze pushed up flapping up Dan’s robe as if it was a cape. The onlookers received an eyeful of Dan Carter’s full-frontal nudity. He pushed his robe down and feigned embarrassment.
“Wow, I felt just like Marilyn Monroe for a second there,” Dan said, and then imitated the dead sex symbol. “Happy birthday, Mr. President. Happy birthday to you.”
The younger man, who looked the same age as Dan, extended his hand to him. “Hello, I’m Roberto Romano,” he said.
He spoke with an American twang, but he had been here long enough that an Italian accent was creeping into his normal speaking voice. “But you can call me Tex.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why should I call you,‘Tex?’”
“Because that’s my nickname.”
“Tex, huh? Where are you from?”
Tex stared at Dan as though the kidnapped doctor had just said the dumbest thing.
“Texas.”
“Oh, I would guess either Nebraska or Ohio.”
Tex sighed. “You must be Dr. Dan Carter.”
“In the flesh and probably more flesh that you wanted to see.”
Tex laughed nervously and they stopped shaking hands.
“Looks like you dressed for the occasion.”
“They didn’t tell me there was a dress code or even clothing optional or anything.”
“They are not a talkative bunch.”
“I felt it was my responsibility to do the talking for all three of them.”
“So, I’ve heard.”
“What else do you know about me?”
“Perhaps we should bring you inside and get you some clothes.”
“Ooh, could I get a pinstripe suit and white tie on a white shirt thing going? I want to blend in with my surroundings.”
Tex forced a smile and said, “Come along. Follow me.”
Tex took a couple steps toward the front door then stopped and spoke rapid Italian to the fat man on the porch. The fat man and Sergio answered. Tex nodded and then he ushered Dan inside to a front room.
“Are Michael and Kay home today, or is it Tony and Carmella these days?”
“You’re a funny guy,” Romano said, in a fake, business-like tone.
“Your friends did not think so.”
“I admit it was a mistake sending those guys.”
Inside the house, Tex stopped and spoke with two servants, motioning to Dan. The servants giggled. They nodded and left. In the front room, which resembled a hotel lobby, Tex sat down in a comfortable but antique chair and motioned for Dan to sit across from him.
Tex said, “I really should get started. You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.”
“Yes, but first, I could really use a potty break. It was a long ride, and I left without warning.”
“Yes, of course. Down that hall, first door on the left.”
“Gratzi… and I just used all the Italian I know.”
Tex laughed and Dan headed to the bathroom.
Dan sang, “Are You Lonesome Tonight,” loudly in an Elvis twang while he urinated. Tex closed his eyes and shook his head.
Dan washed his hands and returned to where Tex was sitting.
“You know, I got to admit. You don’t look like a ‘Tex.’”
“Oh, no?” Tex asked.
Dan shook his head and said, “Maybe Harry Potter’s older brother or Tobey Maguire’s stand-in, but not a Tex.”
Tex chuckled and asked, “Were you expecting an old, fat guy in a flannel shirt, a sheepskin vest, boots, new blue jeans, and a white, 10-gallon hat?”
“All the things that illustrate the myth of the American cowboy created by Hollywood, yes I was.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Tex chuckled.
“Don’t be. I don’t always have to win at stereotype bingo, although this morning has filled my stereotype bingo card with its fair share of markers.”
“Much like the stereotype of the American cowboy was a fallacy, a romantic concoction created by early filmmakers and ad-men, so are the stereotypes of the Italian… underworld,” Tex chuckled.
“I don’t know about that. A couple stereotypes abducted me earlier today as if I were a farmer and they were aliens who were into anal probes.”
“Yes, well, there are stereotypes for a reason,” Tex sighed.
“After this, can I take a shower? I still have a musky smell somewhere between sweat and overpriced whore. Also, if you are planning to cut off one of my ears, please make it the left one, like Vincent Van Gogh’s.”
“What? Cut off your ear? I don’t get it. Why would we…?”
“I’ll break it down for you — I’m an American from a rich family, partying in Italy, then kidnapped by Italian gangsters. True, my name is not ‘Getty’ and I’m twice as old as that boy was, and…”
“Let me stop you right there. We did not kidnap you nor are we looking for a ransom from your family. Your skill set is what we want.”
“To create a magical comedy show for children?” Dan gasped in awe. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Thank you, I am so honored. I admit, there was a good reason to ban me from performing magic ever again in Florida, after that… unpleasantness. I can assure you I have taken the ring of fire and knife throwing out of the act.”
“It’s your plastic surgery skills.”
“Oh,” Dan said, dejected. “And if I say ‘no’?”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Wow, a lot of insinuations in that sentence.”
Tex forced a smile. “Are you good a plastic surgeon?”
“I think so, but I am so new to plastic surgery, I still have plastic on me.”
Tex laughed.
Dan smiled and said, “See, that’s what I like about you. You get my jokes. Those old guys, they…”
“Have little sense of humor. They had no idea what you were talking about when they were in your suite, which is why they brought you here. They needed someone who understood the complex idiomatic nature of the American English language.”
“Someone went to college.”
The servants brought tea and espresso and placed it onto the coffee table between them.
Tex poured himself an espresso, as did Dan. The servants returned and handed Dan some clothes.
“Thank you,” Dan said, and the servant nodded and walked away. “Wow, free espresso, a ride in the country in a stretch limo, free Italian clothes, and an over-priced hooker, what more could a g
uy want?”
Tex chuckled and set this cup and saucer down on the coffee table.
“We would like you to perform surgery on someone.”
“When?”
“Today, after your shower.”
“Can’t. Way too booked today and I’m on vacation.”
Tex cleared his throat. Not many people told him, ‘no.’
Dan explained, “Perhaps if you just gave it to me straight about why I am part of this extortion and kidnapping scheme, I could be more… accepting of your situation.”
“You’re right. Since you are a plastic surgeon, we are going to ask you to perform a rhinoplasty and a boob job.”
“Italians have banned plastic surgeons?”
“There quite a few, but the local ones are too expensive.”
“Have you heard how much plastic surgery costs in America? People go bankrupt because of health care costs.”
“I AM an American, and yes, I know how much health care costs at home.”
“A nose job? Why? Does Connie Corleone need a bit shaved off her huge honker before the wedding and you can’t take the risk of Italian surgeons gabbing about it?”
“Yes, it is something like that.”
“What about an anesthesiologist?”
“We have one lined up.”
“But not a surgeon?”
“Nope.”
“I thought the mob had doctors. I watch a lot of movies and TV.”
“Our plastic surgeon is no longer with us.”
“He made Meadow’s boobs too lopsided, so you had him whacked?”
“No, he died by his own hand. Autoerotic asphyxiation. If he was still alive, we would not have bothered you.”
“Wow, a gasper, as I live and breathe! If I perform this surgery successfully, am I allowed to… go free?”
“Yes, you can return to your bacchanal vacation. We have no reason to keep you.”
His answer made Dan bristle, but he let it go for the moment. Dan took a sip of his espresso. “So, when does this shindig begin?”
“After your requested shower. Shower quickly. We are running behind schedule.”