HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout

by Bill Orton

  “All of Larry’s friends have big chests, except Lori, who has big shoulders,” said Emma. “Aren’t you translating what comes out of her big chest?”

  “They won’t need a translator for whatever Ed has planned,” said Gina.

  “Excuse me,” came a female voice from the door, and Gina looked up. Emma kept her head aimed toward Gina. “Emma Mathilde! It’s Lena… Lena Martins… from Denmark.”

  Gina pointed to the chair next to her. “You have to sit here,” said Gina, in Swedish. “Emma was bitten by a poisonous spider and is coming out of paralysis. It is hard for her to turn her neck.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible!” shuddered Lena. “I hate spiders.” Lena sat. “I have someone with me also from Copenhagen, someone who has traveled just to meet you.”

  “It’s so dark,” said Emma. “Lena? Are you there?”

  “Oh, Emma! You simply must make it through. Damned spiders!”

  “Who do you have with you, Lena? It’s so dark. Is it that nice man with the big camera?”

  “Careful, Emma. Remember, spitting can spread the poison from the spider,” said Gina, turning to Lena. “Too much movement and it shakes up the blood, stirring the poison again,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Lena backed her chair up and looked as though she would vomit. “My God, this is horrible.”

  “Lena... you’ve come so far….”

  “Yes,” said Lena. “I have brought Lars Ålling, from the Royal Ballet.”

  A tall, thin blonde in a crisp suit stepped to the foot of the bed. Emma slowly moved her head as the sound of high Danish filled the studio. “I am an emissary from the Royal House. The Artistic Director and the Royal Chamberlain have authorized me to offer you a presentation.”

  “That does sound important,” said Emma, “but I am busy dying. Can it be next week?”

  “Damn spiders,” whispered Lena.

  .

  “And Lena and the dude didn’t want to stay?” asked Larry, sharing a slice of zucchini bread with Gina and Emma.

  “Young people these days,” said Emma. “Oh, we should send you for food more often. They must use a prison cookbook for the old people.”

  “The man from the Royal Ballet kept saying something about spiders in the room,” said Gina, peeling an orange that Larry brought.

  “Nobody likes spiders, I guess,” said Larry.

  Gina and Emma smiled.

  .

  My phone buzzed. “L V D B.” Oh, God. “Yeh, Larry, what?”

  “My grandmother’s doing fine,” said Larry “Cancel Copenhagen.”

  This felt like a good time to tell him I want out.

  “That’s good news, Larry,” I said. “I’ve got some news, too.”

  “Not now, Lawrence. I’ve got Lori on the other line.” Larry hung up.

  Damn.

  .

  “Bix, no matter how I do, I know that I’m not alone,” said Lori, over speaker, as Larry’s phone rest on the balcony table.

  “You’ve got ‘Team Lori,’ ” said Larry. “And you’ve got heart and discipline and all that.”

  “Strength, form and discipline,” said Lori. “Those’re the three.”

  “I’d rather have heart,” said Larry, looking across to Gina, who was sipping coffee and looking out to the bay. “Heart gives you strength.”

  “I love you, Bix.”

  .

  Anekee sat next to Ed, still tied spread-eagle on Larry’s bed, his boxers visibly tenting.

  “How it flies, the time,” said Anekee, putting down her fashion magazine. “I must return to my duty as a mommy, but don’t go anywhere.”

  Anekee stepped from the room, closing and locking the door behind her.

  .

  “Why didn’t she let you go to the Pike?” Gina asked.

  “She said it was a dirty, dangerous place, where sailors waited for pretty girls to take advantage of,” said Emma, sitting up in bed and not moving her head as she spoke.

  “Was it?”

  “Of course it was,” said Emma. “That’s why I kept begging for permission.”

  “And she never.”

  “I stopped begging and then later just asked if I could go on bike rides.”

  Gina laughed.

  “Where’s that grandson of mine? I’m hungry.”

  .

  Larry stood silently next to his father, who lay unmoving in his gurney.

  “Don’t know how he’s going to fare,” said a female voice behind Larry.

  “Is he gonna.... I mean, will he… live?” asked Larry, turning to see Dr. Bosch.

  “Honestly,” said the doctor, stepping next to Larry, “I can’t be sure. I don’t understand why he is not showing signs of improvement. A stroke and cardiac arrest are each major events, and your father is advanced in age, but... it’s as though he is giving up.”

  “How come he’s still in a wheelie bed?” asked Larry.

  “We’ve been moving him around a lot,” said the doctor. “He’s my only patient in this part of the hospital and I’ve got to get back to my rounds, but I will keep tracking his condition. I will call you if his situation takes a turn, good or bad.”

  The doctor left Larry again standing alone. Larry held Calvin’s limp hand. “Dad, I know you want Grandma to die before you, so you get her suite and the whole mansion, but right now, it sort’a looks like you’re the one who will check out early. That will mean she gets the whole house and when she is gone, I’ll get it. I’ll kick out Candy and all her kids… probably tear the whole place down… not really any good memories for me there… maybe just keep the studio, somehow.

  Calvin’s facial muscles twitched and again went flaccid.

  “I’ll probably donate the entire grounds to the city so they can turn it into a park.”

  Twitch.

  “I’ll tell them to name it after Grandma’s mom and dad,” said Larry, leaning in within inches of Calvin’s ear.

  “Or just the mom... Astrid Ullagård Park, with that little thingie over the ‘a’ so people know she wasn’t American. I’ll get a bunch of ballerinas from the Nutcracker to dance at the ribbon cutting.”

  The twitching continued.

  “I’ll tell the Mayor not to say anything about the Old Man or the family,” said Larry. “It’ll all be about the Scandinavian.”

  .

  “How good for you that Larry’s computer room is so comfortable,” said Anekee, checking the bonds on Ed’s wrists, and then unfastening the necktie that she had used to keep a balled-up pair of nylons in place, as a gag. “You are right, about having nothing for losing.” Anekee pulled up the single chair and sat alongside the bed, fully clothed. She gave Ed’s tent a squeeze. “How many times I have seen this bed, from Larry showing himself to me. He is the only man I can trust. None else are honest. He tells me how he wants me and does not hold back. The others are sweet and pretend they want only words.” Anekee moved the chair so sat close to Ed’s hips. She gazed at length at Ed’s pulsing tent. “Perhaps with the blood fully in, you are larger then Larry... but... no… I don’t think so. He is the real man.” Anekee slowly walked around the room. “Not very much here, is there? And Larry, now so wealthy, could have anything or anyone, but that is not what he seeks. You, on the other hand, pretend that my daughter’s smile is owed only for your wallet.”

  Anekee looked back to the bed, where Ed was following her every step. “No man is as worthy,” she said, wiping her forehead and then peeling off her top, leaving her standing in just a bra and clingy skirt. “California is certainly warm.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Or Hardly Workin’

  “Amazingly, the domain name isn’t taken,” said Ed, as he, Larry and Anekee sat in the sun on Emma’s balcony. Gina carried out a pitcher of orange juice. Ed stared openly at Anekee.

  .

  I looked at my phone. Larry’s fourth call on a Sunday morning. I gotta tell him today. I gotta get out of this thing.

  �
�Yeh, Larry. What?”

  “Come have breakfast with me and Gina and Ed and Anekee,” said Larry. “Can you? I need your advice.”

  “Look, Larry,” I started.

  “My grandma’s house, okay?”

  “Larry, really, look....”

  “If you can,” said Larry. “I know it’s Sunday, but, please….”

  .

  “Gina, this is my friend, Lawrence,” said Larry, introducing me to yet one more incredibly attractive woman, with flowing wavy brown hair and olive skin.

  “Oh, you were Lori’s husband?” said Gina, as I took at seat at the breakfast table.

  “I was,” I said.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” said Gina. “Pardon while I check on Emma.” I watched as she walked into the kitchen.

  “We have an idea that kind of ties a lot of things together,” said Larry, breaking my trance.

  “Models Talk dot com was still available,” said Larry. “But not anymore.”

  As Larry droned through a short speech about empowering beautiful women to have a place to show that their minds are as beautiful as their bodies, a blonde bombshell swished from the kitchen out onto the balcony. Her chest arrived first.

  “Lawrence, I’d like you to meet my friend from Italy,” Larry said, alone in standing as the blonde came to the table. “Anekee, this is my primary advisor, Lawrence. We went to school together. He is a banker.”

  “A real American capitalist pig?” said Anekee, in a thickly-accent voice. “Since you’re Larry’s friend, I will shake your hand, but watch out… I bite.”

  “Anekee will be the face of Models Talk dot com,” said Ed, leaning back in his chair.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I asked, first to Ed and then to Anekee. I found it very difficult to break my eyes from her. She may have been 25. Couldn’t have been much older, though she carried herself as someone who had seen quite a bit of the world and had grown weary of it.

  “She said, ‘be careful, I bite,’ ” said Gina, rejoining the group on the balcony and taking a seat next to Larry. Ed motioned with his hand to a spot near him, which Gina ignored.

  Anekee smiled. Gina smiled. Larry smiled. Ed did not smile.

  “I apologize,” I said, knowing I had missed something central to the conversation, as I looked from Anekee over to Gina. “What are we talking about?”

  “Models who chat, but not strip… for talking on the mind,” said Anekee. “Much sexier.”

  “Some people can only think of one thing,” said Gina, looking to Ed.

  “It will be provocative. Lurkers can do what they like, but I will debate and force them to think,” said Anekee, reaching for a basket of croissants, bread and crackers. She placed a croissant on her plate and passed the basket to Ed, who scooped several pieces of bread and crackers onto his plate and kept the basket moving.

  After I passed the bread basket to Gina, Ed handed me a platter of cheeses and vegetables.

  “Beautiful womens, for making the eyes hunger, but not stripping,” said Anekee. “Men pay for brains and also am getting the beauty.”

  “Like the statue in the foyer,” Gina laughed. “That could be your logo.”

  “Ewa can chat in Polish about the music industry, and Ane can write about… well, anything, really,” said Larry. “… and other models can join to make money by being smart. It isn’t a freak show or just about what you see. It’s about what’s inside.”

  “Lonely men pay for beautiful women with brains,” said Ed. “It’s surefire.”

  “Well, that may be what you’re advertising, but that’s not what the men will be…,” I said.

  “Who cares what they do in the privacy of their cave?” said Ed. “As long as they whip out the VISA or MasterCard.”

  “As a business model, it’d probably make money,” I said. “What’s the name again?”

  “Models Talk dot com,” said Larry.

  “Don’t you think that’s a problem?” I asked. “I mean, switch the ‘s’ to the second word, and what woman would want to be associated with that?”

  “Huh?” said Ed.

  “Oh,” said Gina.

  “The lurkers are stalking anyway,” said Anekee. “Maybe a hidden thrill to keep them paying.”

  “You’ll got technical needs, so we’ll be looking at either an IT vendor contract or hiring bodies. And unless these models are all in one location, you’ll need this to be self-administering,” I said, looking across the table to Anekee. “You’re in Italy, right?”

  “Milan,” replied Anekee.

  “Milan, California... system compatibility… yeh, there will be a lot to do and I doubt anyone here has the skills that will be needed, so this will have to be fleshed out before choosing whether to hire bodies or contract for the construction of the site.” I looked to Gina, as she placed cheese onto a slice of bread. How does Larry draw these incredibly beautiful women into his life?

  “I think I can find someone,” said Ed.

  “No,” said Larry. “I will find someone.”

  Gina smiled.

  .

  Ralphie held the door to the Lincoln open, as first Lori’s parents, then December, and, finally, Larry and Lori stepped out to the American Airlines terminal at Los Angeles International airport. “The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only,” intoned a voice over the terminal loudspeakers. “No parking.”

  “Let’s do it here,” said Lori, thanking Ralphie, as he set her duffel bag beside her, on the curb.

  December threw herself into Lori and held tight, as Lori wrapped her arms around her. December leaned her head up and Lori gave her a gentle kiss. “Good luck, Baby.”

  “It’s just training, Dee,” said Lori. “Yer coming to Nebraska for the Nationals, right?”

  December pulled Lori into a long, deep kiss. “You better believe it, Soldier Girl.”

  Lori turned to her dad, who stepped up, smiled, and hugged his daughter. “Good luck, Sweetheart. Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” said Lori, hugging her father, who held her in his arms and then stepped back, alongside his wife, who then threw herself into her daughter’s arms.

  “We are so proud of you,” said the mother. “… So proud of you…. No matter how you do.”

  “I know, Mom,” said Lori.

  Larry slowly stepped up and Lori reached her arms out and pulled him into her embrace.

  “Thank you, Bix, for making this possible,” said Lori.

  “That part was easy,” said Larry, tearing up. “This is the hard part.”

  “You’re gonna see me in a month,” she said, as his tears fell onto her broad shoulders.

  “Hey!” yelled December, from alongside the Lincoln.

  Larry and Lori looked up from their embrace, as Ralphie and December unrolled a professionally-printed banner, reading, “TEAM LORI LEWIS. GO SOLDIER GIRL!”

  Lori laughed and wiped away tears.

  “We gotta have something you can see when we’re in the stands,” said December.

  .

  Anekee and Larry sat on either side of the toddler, who was closely examining the plastic train before her. The child looked up to her mother and then to Larry, reaching to touch his nose before returning to the train.

  “Nine years we’ve known each other and finally we can spend an evening together,” said Larry, smiling to the child, who peered up occasionally.

  “The Ed one, he will steal from you and cheat,” said Anekee. “Just to warn.”

  “I know. I’m firing him,” said Larry, watching the child move the train along the wood floor towards her mom. He held his hand flat to the floor and the child used his arm as a rail bridge, the train climbing up to the elbow before she let go and let the toy tumble to the floor, as she giggled.

  Larry, his eyes on the child, smiled, and the two repeated the action.

  “Is he useful?” asked Anekee, gently stroking her daughter’s hair.

 
“He knows a lot about investing and it’d be nice to keep him, but I don’t like him anymore.”

  “She grows tired,” said Anekee. “My friend takes over soon and we can spend time alone,” said Anekee, laying on her side, propped up on an elbow. “We have much to compare during her nap.”

  .

  Gina held her arm for Emma – sitting up on the edge of her bed – to grip, and the two slowly walked to the kitchen table, where they sat together.

  “Brød?” asked Gina.

  “Nej,” said Emma.

  “Larry is a nice grandson,” said Gina.

  “My grandson is odd.”

  “He loves you more than anyone in the world.”

  “His heart is full for me; empty for my son.”

  “Are you sure, no food?”

  “No, I was just wondering if I had forgotten how to walk, yet.”

  .

  Larry leaned in close to his father’s ear, whispering. “Lots of little girls, in pink ballet outfits.... They’ll be standing with the Mayor, as he cuts the ribbon….”

  Calvin’s jaw moved slightly.

  “… with big Chamber of Commerce scissors….”

  .

  “She’s asleep,” said Anekee, taking Larry by the hand. “Come.” Anekee guided Larry to his computer room, with its single wooden chair, twin bed and plain wooden desk on which sat Larry’s ancient desktop PC and webcam. Anekee closed and locked the door.

  .

  Lori, her duffel bag on her shoulder, followed a woman in her 30s and in a yellow windbreaker into a long dormitory hallway, before arriving at room 211.

  “Dining hall is 6, 10, 4 and 8, with two hours for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” said the woman in the windbreaker. “All the meal and training schedules are in a packet in your room on the table. Curfew… yeh, for you, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  “Which is dinner? Four or eight?”

  “Eat early, eat late, it’s up to you,” said the woman. “Curfew is eleven. Blood testing is random and universal, so watch your substances. Welcome to the Olympic Training Center.”