“Please let him know it is his son.”
“His son?” she said. “Okay, one moment please while I put you through.”
“Hello. Henderson here.”
“Hello, Dad.”
“Blake, is that you?”
“Yeah, old man, it’s me. Did the receptionist tell you your son was on the line?”
“Yeah, she sure did.”
“And you answered knowing that you don’t have a son.”
“Yes, I did,” Charlie said proudly. “I made a promise to your momma that if ever you needed me, I was to treat you like you were mine. So, I knew when she said my son was on the phone, he was.”
Blake was overwhelmed. This man had been instructed by his mother to be there when he needed him and without hesitation, he was.
Before Blake could regain his composure, Charlie spoke again. “Well, son, are you ready for our trip? After our conversation this morning, I decided I was going to take me a long vacation and go fishing. I have more than three months coming and with these new policies coming down the pike, if I don’t take my days, I might lose them. So I decided to go deep-water fishing and I was going to take you along for the ride. My vacation starts tomorrow and I can’t wait. Why don’t you come over to my place tonight and we can work out the plans? Plus, I have some things I want to show you.”
“I can’t tonight, Charlie,” Blake replied. “Tomorrow would be better.”
“Okay, son.”
With so much on his mind, Basil needed to think. Teddy’s theory was riveting — despite the fact that there were a few holes in her analysis. As he reached the hotel to pick up his things, he knew he had to clear his head.
“How did you enjoy your stay, Dr. Rhodes?” the young frecklefaced clerk asked as she looked up his bill.
“It was fine, thanks.”
“Okay, here is your receipt and you’re all ready to go. And if you need a taxi, you can find one right outside the door.”
Not a bad idea; a ride could help clear my mind.
Basil instructed the cabdriver just to drive. He had consumed too much information and in an odd sort of a way, he felt intoxicated and in need of a space where he could think. Since Chicago was experiencing a warm and early summer, the weather was absolutely beautiful and he thought driving would calm his spirit. Because for the first time, he was torn.
His conversation with Teddy had further confirmed his suspicions that the government was involved in an AIDS cover-up. However, this new information had taken Basil to another place — one where murder appeared to be the norm. He knew that if he got involved, he too could become a casualty. The only question he had was whether he was willing to put himself in harm’s way. Without his help, it would be difficult for Teddy to prove her theory, let alone support it with the necessary scientific evidence. He also had to face the fact that Teddy’s theory contradicted the theory that had always been espoused by the dissident movement that poverty, not HIV, was the origin of AIDS.
While the cabdriver weaved in and out of Chicago traffic, he never once asked any questions of his passenger. It was as if he knew without asking that the man in his backseat was a man with a heavy burden. As he stared into his rearview mirror, he could see Basil was consumed by thought and completely unaware of his surroundings, even while trusting that his driver would lead him to a place of peace and solitude. After a while, the driver turned off the meter and his availability sign and simply passed by waving pedestrians willing to pay for his services. Like his passenger, he had become melancholy and entrenched in the quietness that consumed the cab’s chamber. Two men of two very distinct backgrounds shared a space, companions brought together by a premature summer.
Basil stared out the open backseat side window and found himself unable to keep his eyes open as the unobstructed airstream gently touched his face. So he lay back in his seat as if he were sleeping and willingly surrendered to the power of his soothing opponent. Still not concerned with where his driver was going, Basil continued to dwell on his conversation with Teddy and the fact that she had evidence that proved the disease had been manufactured and released by an organization tied to murder.
Since he himself had felt the wrath of the United States government, Basil had known there had to be something to his theory. But he had never fathomed that the disease was a biological weapon deliber-ately produced and distributed. However, to Teddy, the conspiracy went even deeper. She believed the release of the weapon had created an unintended consequence, one that led to the rise of a super-minority — her own community. The whole story sounded preposterous, but at the same time, it was conceivable.
As he thought more about Teddy’s “super-minority” supposition, he started to believe she might be onto something, even if it did border on the ridiculous. There had always been cities with large gay populations, like San Francisco and New York, and Chicago had its Boys town, but he had to admit, Teddy was right about one thing: before the advent of AIDS, the gay community had not had permission to be gay publicly. But, once they took ownership of the disease … .
Before Basil could finish his thought, he realized the cab he had picked up on State Street in front of the hotel was now about to exit north Lake Shore Drive and head into Evanston, a beautiful city on the border of Chicago. Despite not being concerned about where his cab ride would lead him, it was obvious to Basil that the driver knew where he was going. And even though the driver had said nothing the entire trip, he had turned off the cab’s meter — something Basil found to be odd, but not odd enough to break the stillness the two men shared. Since the driver had left Basil to his thoughts, Basil decided to do the same. Besides, questioning the driver might interrupt the journey, something Basil was just not ready to do. Wherever the driver was going, Basil wanted to go too.
The driver continued north into Wilmette, where the famous Baha’i Temple was a mainstay. As the cab approached the temple, Basil thought about how magnificently it was perched, like an eagle’s nest high in a tree. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture Wilmette had to offer and not too far away was Ravinia, Highland Park’s musical haven, known for its summer series of outdoor concerts and performances of everyone from acclaimed singer Nancy Wilson to harpist Andreas Vollenweider to the renowned Chicago Symphony Orchestra.
Basil didn’t know exactly where the driver was headed, but he was grateful for the unexpected treasure of the trip. Just as Basil settled back into silence after appreciating the scenery, the driver suddenly came to a stop and then turned to face him.
“Sir,” the driver said with a slight accent, “I hope you don’t mind if we stop here for a while? I’m under a lot of pressure at home and this was the only place I knew where to go. I come here often just to think and by the time I’m ready to go home, whatever is bothering me no longer seems important. When you got in the cab and asked me just to drive, I could tell that you too had a lot on your mind and you would probably benefit from the ride as much as me.”
Basil could appreciate what the driver was saying. He certainly did have a lot on his mind and the ride had been just the peace he needed.
“You’re right,” Basil said. He opened the cab door and climbed out. He leaned against the cab, lit a cigarette and inhaled a funnel of smoke before releasing it through his nostrils. “I do have a lot on my mind and this drive did more for me than you know. But I do have one question for you. Why did you turn off your meter? Round trip, this is an expensive excursion.”
“Sometimes it’s not about money,” the driver said as he too climbed out of the cab and joined his passenger. “It’s about companionship. You and I were at the same place when I stopped to pick you up. And when you said ‘just drive,’ my prayer was answered. I was feeling so low that I had thought about just giving up and I had asked God for help. When you got in the cab, I knew you were the blessing for which I had been looking. In essence, the drive gave me clarity and showed me that God was still listening to me.”
“I se
e,” Basil said. “So you got the clarity you were seeking? Your god answered your prayer?”
“Yes, He did. God shared with me that regardless of what I’m going through or what I think I’m going through, He does not give me any more than I can handle. I just have to stay prayerful and faithful.”
Basil wondered whether the driver’s clarity was his too. During the entire ride, he had been questioning whether he would stop what he’d been doing and work with Teddy. He knew it would be dangerous, so he hadn’t wanted to rush into a decision until he was sure.
“Well, friend, I am glad you received some clarity,” Basil replied. “And I’m also glad I had the opportunity to go on this journey with you.”
“Are you saying you are ready to head back, sir?”
“Yes,” Basil replied, as he flicked the butt of his cigarette and watched it land in the approaching darkness. “This has been a very enjoyable trip and I look forward to the drive back.”
“Okay. Where to next?”
“I live in the Clydesdale Building,” Basil replied. “And take your time. It’s a beautiful night.”
By the time they reached Lake Shore and Roosevelt Road, Basil was hungry; it was getting late and he realized he had not eaten all day. He asked the driver if he would join him for dinner. The driver agreed and they stopped where they could pick up a Maxwell Street Polish. It had been awhile since Basil had had a meal with someone who wasn’t part of the dissident movement and he realized he missed the friendships he’d once had.
“You know, friend,” Basil said, “we’ve been in each other’s company for at least three hours and I don’t even know your name.”
“You’re right. My name is David Sumner. And you are?”
“My name is Dr… . I mean Basil … Basil Rhodes.”
“Dr. Basil Rhodes!”
“Why, yes,” Basil said, now a bit suspicious. “How do you know me?”
“I don’t really,” the cabbie said. “I know your work.”
“That will be twelve dollars and forty-nine cents. What are you drinking?”
“Two Pepsi’s and keep the change,” Basil said as he picked up the bag with two Polish and fries.
The men walked to a nearby bench. David Sumner said, “Before you went ‘rogue’ as one article said, you were one of Chicago’s most influential players. Now, when a cabdriver is not driving, you’re usu-ally just sitting somewhere passing time and for me, passing time means reading. I read everything, especially material my passengers leave in my cab. And since I spend a lot of time taking passengers to and from the airport and downtown hotels, a lot of material is left in my cab. I knew you looked familiar; I just couldn’t place where I’d seen you before. But now I know. I was at the Canterbury Hotel the other night listening to you explain your theory.”
“Oh, really?” Basil said, as he took a bite of his Polish. “You were there? But why?”
“No reason, really,” the cabbie said after swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “The night was slow and once I saw all the people going inside, I decided to check it out, and that’s when I heard you speak.”
Not knowing what to think or how to respond, Basil took his time with his meal. He didn’t feel apprehensive, despite the fact that, under any other circumstances, he might have been. But there was something about David’s demeanor that suggested he was in good company.
“Well, what do you think?” Basil asked.
“I really don’t know enough about the subject matter to comment,” the cabbie replied. “But I did enjoy your presentation and I really enjoyed the question and answer session.”
The discussion ended there and the two men simply enjoyed the beautiful Chicago evening and their meal. In a strange sort of way, a friendship was developing that did not need anything further from them. The two men had bonded on their drive up Lake Shore and back and the little formalities just didn’t seem important. David had found a reason to go on at least for one more night and Basil had not had to eat alone again, something that had become all too common.
Once done with their meal, David dropped Basil off at the Clydesdale Building and Basil gave him a crisp one hundred dollar bill to show his appreciation.
“Hey, man, what’s this for?” David asked, perplexed.
“It’s for you,” Basil replied with a warm grin while grabbing his suitcase. “You have allowed me to consume your entire evening and by my calculations, you would have made at least this amount if you’d have had paying customers.”
“I don’t need this,” David replied, as if insulted by the gesture. “I enjoyed the evening just as much as you. After all, you saved my life, so take it back.”
“No can do, friend,” Basil said. He climbed out of the cab, shut the door and headed toward the doorman standing in front of the revolving glass entrance to his building.
“Wait, Basil!”
Basil stopped walking, then turned and headed back toward his new friend.
“If you won’t take the money back, at least take my cell number,” David said. “Anytime you need a ride somewhere or just want to take a drive, call me.”
“Will do and thank you.” Basil grabbed David’s card before turning back toward his home. It had been a long day and he was ready to turn in for the evening.
After her meeting with Basil, Teddy was also emotionally drained. However, she was still excited about the possibility of seeing Lauren again and watching her band play at the Roulette Klub, one of Chicago’s hottest venues. This was her opportunity to make amends for not staying in touch with Lauren and more specifically, apologize for not being there when she needed her. And now, whether Teddy wanted to admit it, she needed Lauren as Lauren had once needed her.
Teddy arrived at the Roulette Klub before the first act, her excitement and anticipation already starting to show. Outside the club, a crowd gathered. Expecting to stand in line like everyone else, instead she was ushered in by the bouncer. As at most urban night clubs, the one with the power was the bouncer at the door. He had the official guest list, and his own list. Teddy knew the game: she was the fresh new face on the scene. And she was alone! Based on the bouncer’s approval, she would now have access to everything, including the club’s VIP lounge.
As she entered the door, she gave the bouncer a kiss on the cheek to show her appreciation, a small gesture that could have tremendous benefits. Once inside, she was impressed. From the outside, one would think that when you walked through the metal doors, you would be in a dump. But, in this case, the place was a hidden jewel, nothing but opulent.
The Roulette Klub was located in the warehouse district off Maxwell Street. It was a trilevel oasis with nine full-service bars, including a private one in the VIP section. Its décor was contemporary chic. Each level was soundproof and had its own dance floor, sound system, DJ station, lighting system and ceiling-to-floor flat screen monitors. Plush sofas, chairs, and sectionals were positioned throughout, including in the hallways and the lobby areas located around the elevators.
And the bathrooms were flawless! They looked as if one of the HGTV design stars had decorated them. The floors were of the finest Italian tile and the sinks were all custom-built. Silk paper adorned the walls. There were six bathrooms on each floor, three for women and three for men. Unlike most other clubs — where the women stood in line waiting to use the facilities — here there were no lines. Each restroom had its own hostess and anything you wanted or needed was available. If your shoes needed to be shined, you had access. If you lost a button and needed it sewn back on your jacket, it was done. Part of the club’s marketing strategy was to make you feel as if you owned the club, so whatever you wanted was at your beck and call. The hostesses were there to accommodate your needs as if they were your own personal assistants.
The first floor was designed for live music. It could hold five hundred people, easily and based on the “wall of fame,” this club had hosted talent the likes of Snoop, Sting, Joss Stone, Meshell N’degeocello, Amy Winehouse, J
ill Scott, Black Eyed Peas, Pink, Roy Ayers, and Michael Franks. You name it, it was evident that whatever genre you were interested in, you could find it at the Roulette.
As Teddy waited for the show to begin, she couldn’t help but notice a familiar face in the crowd. Lauren! Standing not even twenty feet in front of her was the girl who had played hard to get. There she was, laughing without a care in the world. Lauren’s laughter was as contagious as her personality. And Teddy could see that the small entourage surrounding her had been bitten by the bug. Still taken by Lauren’s charm and good looks, Teddy found herself saying out loud what she was privately thinking. Unaware someone had overheard the unintended compliment, she was surprised when the waitress replied, “I know, right? I’ll let her know she has an admirer.”
As the crowd started to thicken, Teddy noticed another face, someone who, no matter what, looked out of place and who seemed as fixated on her as she was on him. Everywhere she moved, he was not too far behind. If this was who she thought it was, then she would have to wait to reconnect with Lauren. Anything she did tonight could place Lauren in danger and that was something she definitely did not want to do. Teddy turned to get away from the man’s staring gaze, but was stopped by the waitress.
“Hey! Hey, you! Where are you going? I’ve been looking all over for you. I delivered your message and Lauren said that if you want to meet her, stick around after the set. She also gave me this note to give to you.”
Without stopping to read the note, Teddy told the waitress to tell Lauren maybe another time. Then she headed into the crowd and up to the VIP lounge, a place where she knew she could read the note without raising any suspicions, while at the same time, watch the man who seemed to be following her. Then she would slip away unnoticed.
When Teddy opened the note, it read:
My Dearest Winifred Theodora,
I knew you would grow up to be as beautiful as a diamond buried deep. I spotted you as soon as you walked through the door. Let’s meet after the show.
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