HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout

by Bill Orton

  “Oh, I have a key,” said Gina, pointing to the wooden chair at the base of the stairwell.

  “I didn’t know it works,” said Larry.

  Gina motioned for Larry to sit on the exquisitely-crafted wooden chair as she bent over him and inserted a long skeleton key into the mechanism at the base of the chair, prompting a mechanical hum. Before Larry could get off of the chair, Gina gingerly sat on Larry’s lap.

  “Will it support two?” she asked.

  “Guess we will find out.” Larry toggled a metal lever next to the chair, and the apparatus slowly began to climb the stairwell. Gina wrapped one arm around Larry’s neck. As they climbed to the second level, a flaking, brown dry streak across the Plexiglas came into view. “Gina,” said Larry, prompting her to turn her head to directly face him. Larry leaned up, just as the two passed through the Plexiglas and kissed Gina on the lips. A dull, earthy scent lingered briefly as the chair continued its ascent, and, once past the Plexiglas, rounding the stairwell to the third level, Gina had both her hands on Larry’s head, the fingers of one hand dug deeply into his hair. They broke their kiss once the chair had reached the landing of the Scandinavian’s suite, with the sculpture of Venus calling out to be worshipped.

  “Come,” said Gina, taking Larry by the hand. “Let’s listen to the opera.”

  .

  Gina sat on Larry’s lap, her arm draped on his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest, as they sat upright, necking. Enrico Caruso’s voice filled the studio, as around them, invisible to them, were dozens of reflections of two people kissing.

  .

  “I approve,” said Emma van der Bix, standing in the doorway of the suite with Ralphie, as Gina and Larry sat on the sofa by the Victrola, kissing. The two quickly disengaged and awkwardly stood.

  “Please,” said Emma, motioning with her hand to the two, “don’t stop on my account.” Emma walked through the studio without casting a further glance at Gina and Larry. Ralphie turned, closed the door and his footsteps on the marble faded to silence, as had the music.

  Gina stood, flipped the disc, cranked the handle and set the needle onto the record. She sat down gingerly, looked at Larry, and, without a word, met his advancing lips. The two melted back into one another’s arms.

  .

  “Are we flying or driving?” I asked Larry, who seemed distracted, as we talked on the phone.

  “For what again?”

  “Omaha, Larry. Remember? Nebraska.”

  “I know where Omaha is,” said Larry. “On the Platte River.”

  “Lori?”

  “Oh, yeh, right! Car’s fine.”

  “Her folks and Dave want to go by plane, so there should be plenty of space in the Lincoln.”

  “That’s great, Lawrence,” said Larry, quickly. “Look, kind’a busy.”

  “What?” I said. “You’re never busy.”

  Larry hung up.

  .

  Larry and Gina sat together, eating breakfast on the balcony, their chairs close together. Emma, standing with Ralphie at the French doors leading to the kitchen, looked out to the two, who ate silently. Emma and Ralphie turned and walked off. The closing of the main doors could be heard in the distance, but neither Gina nor Larry gave any sign of having heard it.

  .

  Lori Lewis lay on her side, looking at a small, stuffed pumpkin. She dialed her cell.

  “Hey, hunny,” purred December’s voice, over the speaker.

  “Hi, pumpkin.”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow in Ralphie’s car, so you better get ready, cuz yer mine every night, baby,” said December.

  Lori smiled and continued looking at the pumpkin. A single tear fell to her pillow.

  “Baby? You dere?”

  .

  Emily Kashabara, wearing black and carrying a tote bag, lowered her foot off her long board and pushed, continuing her effortless gliding. Ahead, standing idly, were four male skateboarders. Emily dug the heel of her board into the sidewalk, stopping a few feet from the group.

  .

  “Hal-lowww,” came the voice from the door to the studio. Gina stood near the Victrola, changing the disc, as Larry crossed the room to open the door, through which entered Tres and Lena, with no camera in hand.

  “Hi hi,” said Lena, warmly, to Larry and Gina, who each smiled thinly.

  “What we’ve got is really great,” said von Sommerberg, “but it is not the story we came for. What is the best way for saying it?”

  “Emma doesn’t work,” said Lena.

  “But everybody else,” said von Sommerberg, “is really great.”

  “Isn’t this supposed to be a story about family?” asked Gina.

  “That is what the original patron wanted,” said von Sommerberg. “What we have got and anything we shoot on the drive will finish the movie, and really it is now about Miss Lewis.”

  “She is a real hero,” said Lena, looking around. “Is not Emma Mathilde home?”

  “Oh, no,” said Larry. “It’s just me and Gina.”

  “May we wait to see her?” said von Sommerberg.

  “We would prefer not,” said Gina. “There is work that we can only do while Emma is out, and our time is limited... so off you go.” Gina made sweeping motions with her hands.

  The two filmmakers left. Larry closed the studio door behind them. Gina cranked the Victrola, causing her chest to wobble in her tight sweater. She stood near the edge of the couch and, when Larry had taken a seat, she gently sat on his lap, wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and they resumed kissing.

  .

  December Carrera adjusted the webcam, and then she rolled her desk chair backwards, holding up two paper plates, one over each breast, reading, “See u soon!” and “Soldier G!”

  .

  Ed typed a response to the image of Anekee van der Velden, in a tight pink top and white skirt. “Happy Bday Ane! Looks like a great party!”

  After several reloads, the FaceBook page showed four more messages, one from Anekee, reading, “wheres Larry?”

  Ed typed. “Don’t know. He knew the time for this,” typed Ed, submitting the reply. He then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans.

  .

  Emily Kashabara and the four young men looked down a steep bill, one of hundreds like it in San Pedro and the Palos Verdes peninsula. Emily reached into her tote bag and pulled out a helmet and pads.

  “Wuss,” said one of the skaters.

  “I make my living using my brain,” said Emily, strapping on the helmet. “I’d like to still have one when I get home tonight.”

  .

  “Why me?” asked Larry, when he and Gina broke for air.

  Gina, her fingers still dug into his hair, smiled gently. “What do you mean, silly? ‘Why you?’ ”

  “I mean, why not Ed, or someone else cool like that?”

  Gina leaned in and gently kissed Larry’s lips. “When I was small, all I wanted was to be at home with my parents, and then my dad and mom started fighting. It was off to my aunt’s. Then my grandparents. Finally, I had to spend a year living with a friend of my mother.” Gina kissed Larry’s cheek, and whispered into his ear. “A loved one cares about their family.” She sat up and looked into Larry’s eyes.

  “Obviously, you don’t care for your father, yet you still go to see him and you’ve told the doctors to be heroic if they need to save him.” She kissed him again. “The man I give myself to will be someone who cares… like you.”

  “Wait,” said Larry, shaking his head. “Give yourself to?”

  He slid back into the sofa, causing Gina to lose her balance, and topple onto his chest. Instinctively, his arms caught her, and – wrapped in his arms – she snuggled into his chest.

  .

  Emma entered the studio with Ralphie. They paused, on seeing Gina, on Larry’s lap, both asleep. Emma lifted the needle from the 78-rpm record and placed the apparatus in up position. “Cof-fee?” Emma asked Ralphie. He nodded and the two walked towards the kitch
en.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Stinkin’ Lincoln

  Ralphie looked at the ten suitcases of varying sizes, camera equipment, cloth totes and Larry’s two paper sacks, and then peered into the completely empty, cavernous trunk of the Continental. Inside the passenger cabin, Gina and Larry loaded soda cans into the two refrigerators. As Gina placed sandwiches, fruit, potato salad, yoghurt and other items into one unit, Larry opened the safe in the other, placed three bundles of hundred-dollar bills with the remaining bundle, closed the door and spun the dial. He then placed all of the sodas into the cooler, except for the loose cans in the bag, to which Larry added five loose, cold Cactus Coolers, and a warm six-pack of Fresca.

  The enormous lens of the Danish filmmakers’ camera flopped into the cabin, peering first to Gina and, a moment later, to Larry, each of whom vehemently waved the camera away.

  “Hello, my hunnies,” said December, climbing in to the cabin, smiling to Gina, and taking the seat directly across from the two. “This may get kind’a tight,” said December, as I climbed in and sat beside her. Tres and Lena climbed beside me, and Ed took the flip seat at the fixed window.

  “All y’all comfortable?” asked Ralphie, bending in to the cabin. With no words spoken above the slight grunts and a grumble, Ralphie turned, raised the screen, and drove.

  “Save my seat, Boss Man,” December told me, hop-‘n-scooting across, to wind up next to Gina. “I’ll be over here if you need me.”

  .

  “I’m thinking Vegas would be a good spot to camp for the night,” said Ed, as Ralphie pulled in to a brightly-lit Chevron station, each island glowing. “Rooms a’ plenty.... All you can eat buffets…. Swimming pools… movie stars… cheap liquor.”

  “Not gonna lose an entire day just to stay in Las Vegas,” said Larry. “I want Ralphie to make Grand Junction.”

  “Where is Grand Junction?” asked Lena.

  “Colorado,” I said.

  “Is that close to Las Vegas?” asked Tres.

  “A couple of states over,” Larry said.

  “Two thousand kilometer,” said Gina. “Maybe 1800.”

  “Two thousand!” exclaimed Tres von Sommerberg, as Lena, holding a snapshot camera, captured video of the reaction.

  Ralphie opened the cabin door. “You have a moment of convenience, before the next stretch,” he said, holding the door for everyone, except Larry and Gina, who stayed in the car, after Ralphie closed the door and cleaned the windows.

  .

  Tres von Sommerberg and Lena Martins stood in the cabin, in the sunroof, red light glowing atop the camera on Lena’s shoulder, as two pair of wide eyes and a giant lens took in the panorama, the light and energy, the blurring of time. The desert air whipped Lena’s blonde hair as she photographed the Lincoln slowly making its way up the Vegas strip.

  .

  “Welcome to Caesar’s,” said a tall blonde behind the main counter.

  Larry slid his VISA card and the clerk’s face brightened. “Mr. van der Bix. Welcome back. You’re eligible for a number of discounts.”

  December stepped forward.

  .

  “Tres and I will be shooting,” said Lena, as we all stood near the main elevators. Several bellhops held luggage caddies. “No need to worry about us tonight.” A bellhop, with one caddie, followed the pair.

  As the elevator opened, me, Ed, and December followed a bellhop in. As we waited for the elevator to close, I looked at Larry and Gina, waiting with the second bellhop, their caddy holding three pieces of luggage and several paper sacks.

  .

  “There is something I do have to tell you,” said Larry, as the elevator climbed to the penthouse. The bellhop stood rigid and silent, as Gina reached down to hold Larry’s hand.

  “Tell me tonight,” said Gina. “Over dinner.”

  “Uh,” said Larry, “it’s, um, well, I don’t know if I’d call it dinner conversation.”

  Gina, still holding Larry’s hand, stepped closer, so she was face-to-face with Larry. She leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. “We can have dinner in our room.”

  “W’ull,” said Larry, looking down, “just that, um, it doesn’t work, is all, you know.”

  Gina, speaking more quietly than before, told Larry, “Let’s wait until we’re alone in the room.”

  The elevator door opened and Larry spilled out, with Gina quickly following him. The bellhop maintained a polite distance, with the baggage caddy, until all three arrived at the end of the wide, wood-paneled hallway.

  “Sir. Madame,” intoned the bellhop. “The Emperor’s Suite.”

  Gina pushed open a pair of wide, double doors, gesturing with her hand for Larry to follow. Gina walked slowly into the room that Larry had been in, with Ed, December and Carole. The bellhop raised the lights.

  As Gina slowly walked through the suite, she whispered “wow,” several times.

  Larry reached into his pocket, pulling up several crumpled, hundred-dollar bills and a handful of gold coins. He dropped a stack of coins into the bellhop’s open hand and said thanks. When Gina returned to the main foyer, she and Larry were alone. She walked directly to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him wetly.

  Larry fidgeted like a knitting octopus during the kiss, saying “I don’t get hard, Gina,” almost immediately after their lips parted.

  “Please, Larry, while we are alone kissing, put your hands on my body,” said Gina. “As I give myself to you, I want to feel you receiving my gift.”

  “But… it doesn’t…,” said Larry, as Gina pulled him by the hand to the window overlooking the Strip. She looked out the window, her back to Larry. She turned her head, and pulled him forward, so his hands slid over her belly and hips and up to her breasts. His hands filled. Gina turned so the two could look at one another. She put her hands onto Larry’s. His palms traveled her body, and when his fingers found their work, she put her hands onto the window frame.

  “Sex can wait, Larry,” said Gina. “I am giving myself to you, and you will give yourself to me. This is a gift we give to each other. And a gift we each receive. It’s not sex. It’s something larger.”

  Their fingers intertwined.

  .

  A knock at the door interrupted Larry and Gina’s necking. Larry walked to the foyer and opened the door. Tres, his camera’s red light glowing, silently entered the suite. Larry walked back to the sofa next to the Victrola.

  Lena followed Tres in, carrying two cases of equipment. Larry and Gina sat next to one another on the sofa, waiting….

  “Las Vegas is really something,” said Lena, setting the equipment cases onto the wood floor. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Lena, taking long, deep breaths. “We don’t mean… to interrupt…. Tres!”

  Von Sommerberg appeared a moment later. “It’s really something, this suite.”

  “Yes, well, we have not filmed the pool,” said Lena.

  “Ah,” said the director.

  A knock sent Lena to the front door, and she returned with Ed, in a suit, and December, in a gown.

  “Pardon the interruption,” said Ed.

  “We’re gonna meet Lawrence downstairs for a show,” said December. “Wanna come?”

  Larry and Gina said no from the couch.

  “Yeh,” said Ed. “Can see you’re both busy.”

  Gina and Larry sat, motionless.

  “Well,” said December, “do what’cha want. You’ll find us at da tables, later.”

  “Sure you don’t wanna come, baby,” said Ed, to Gina.

  “Busy,” said Gina, slipping her hand into Larry’s.

  “Bye, hunnies,” said December, pulling Ed by the arm. “C’mon, Ed, let’s go.”

  “The pool? Or a show?” Lena asked Tres, as they followed Ed and December.

  “Thanks…, bye…, don’t come again,” said Larry, limply waving.

  “Where were we?” said Gina, leaning into Larry, on the couch. “Oh, yes,” she said, rolling so her body w
as atop Larry’s. She climbed to where they could easily kiss at length. He wrapped his arms around her.

  .

  Larry said thanks as he put a stack of gold coins into the palm of the room service attendant. He pulled the room service cart into the foyer, closed the door and wheeled the meal into the dining room, where Gina had laid out a twin table setting, lit candles and stood, waiting, next to her chair. Larry crossed to her, looked briefly into her eyes, smiled, as did she, before he felt her arm brush into him as she took her seat. He helped her slide the chair slightly forward and she turned and grasped his forearm as he turned. Gina ran her fingers up Larry’s arm, and she appeared surprised when her touch revealed long, toned, wire-like biceps. “Oh,” she said, as her fingers slowly traveled up and down the bicep, and the gentle tapering into non-assuming tanned, toned forearms.

  Larry transferred items from the cart to the table, as Gina sat waiting. Once emptied, Larry rolled the cart away, sat at his chair, smiled to Gina as he placed his napkin on his thigh and reached for his cutlery.

  “May I say, ‘Grace?’ ” asked Gina.

  Larry looked at her for a moment. “Um, uh... sure.” He took his hands away from the table, folding them on his lap.

  “Oh, glorious and merciful God,” said Gina, head bowed, hands resting on the table, palms up. “Larry...” she whispered. “Your hands.” Larry quietly reached his hands across and rested each atop Gina’s. “Thank you, God, that you have blessed us with this beautiful meal, for so many among us are hungry. And you give us the gift of one another, when so many among us are alone. There is so much misfortune, Lord, and so many who long for togetherness. Thank you, God, that this meal shall give us strength. We are grateful, Lord, for these precious gifts.” Gina looked to Larry, as she spoke. “And please bless this man, Lord, for he is a good soul, loyal to family, generous and kind.” She again lowered her head. “And bless the friends we travel with, some confused, some troubled, but each good in their heart. In Your name, precious Lord, we ask this, amen.”