Dodos

by Al Lamanda

  “Listen and if you don’t like it, walk away.”

  “I’m walking away right now,” Gavin said and reached for the door. “Here I go.”

  “You owe it to Patience to listen,” Ian said.

  Gavin paused with his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned around. “I owe it to my very pregnant wife to put myself in a position where I won’t see my newborn until college?” he said. “Because it’s Christmas Eve, I won’t smack you silly.”

  About to open the door, Gavin paused again when Ian said, “Your last score was months ago. What did you clear, eighty grand? Patience takes a leave of absence from the hospital next month. Babies cost money, Lee and a lot of it. What are you going to do, go back to driving a forklift at eleven bucks an hour?”

  Gavin turned around. His jaw was clenched so tightly, his neck swelled with a thick purple vein running down the left side. His eyes felt as if ice picks were jabbing them, they hurt so much. For a fleeting moment, he thought about setting fire to Ian’s Santa beard.

  “Now look, you’re tense,” Ian said. “And on Christmas Eve.”

  Gavin clenched his hands into massive, rock hard fists.

  “Now, now, take it easy,” Ian said. “Remember it’s Christmas.”

  Gavin sighed and his neck deflated like a balloon.

  “The client is rich and by that I mean he’s a trillionaire or something,” Ian said.

  “There’s no such word.”

  “Sure there is,” Ian said. “I just used it in a sentence.”

  “You could use grumbledunker in a sentence, it doesn’t make it a word,” Gavin said. “Now, get out of that stupid suit and…”

  “Ten grand each just to listen,” Ian said. “That’s what he agreed to pay us.”

  “Just to listen?”

  “Just to listen,” Ian said.

  “Cash?”

  “Up front on the barrel.”

  “When?”

  “Day after Christmas.”

  “Just to listen?”

  “I just said that, yes.”

  “Just to listen?”

  “Yes, yes and yes. Jeeze,” Ian said.

  “Okay,” Gavin said. “Just to listen.”

  “Once you hear it though, you’ll want it.”

  “What I want is ten grand,” Gavin said. “Now get out of that stupid…say, what were you up to, anyway?”

  “Oh, see, I was working at the Paramus Mall.”

  “As Santa?”

  “As gift wrap Santa.”

  “You got a job wrapping gifts?”

  “No, see, I cased the mall a few weeks ago,” Ian said. “They got these gift wrap booths for people who don’t want to wrap their own presents. I went back a few times and the closer to Christmas, the more desperate people got to buy and wrap their presents. People are so commercial. Anyway, so I thought why not go into business for myself and I did.”

  “Wrapping gifts for people dressed as Santa?” Gavin said.

  “Well, the Santa suit is a disguise,” Ian said. “I set up my own booth and nobody even questioned me. They all thought I worked there. Even mall security. Oh, that reminds me. They got a really nice mall cop there who filled in for me while I used the can. I should send him something, maybe a nice card.”

  A tight band of thorns was starting to form around the top of Gavin’s head. “Is there some end in sight to this story?” he said.

  “I’m coming to that,” Ian said. “Anyway, for five bucks, Santa will wrap your gift for you while you continue shopping. People were handing me stuff left and right.”

  “Which you wrapped?”

  “What? No, of course not,” Ian said. “I just loaded them into the van I rented until it was full and here I am. Blenders, electronics and digital cameras seemed to be really big this year.”

  “You stole people’s Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve?” Gavin said.

  “Jeeze, Lee, you don’t have to make it sound so dirty,” Ian said.

  “That bag of stuff you brought in,” Gavin said. “All stolen?”

  “Technically, they gave it to me,” Ian said. “I just didn’t give it back.”

  “How much stuff altogether?”

  “Maybe a hundred gifts, a few more,” Ian said. “I got a nice 42 inch HD TV for Muffie-Jo and for Patience I got a…”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “For you I got…”

  “That I definitely don’t want to know.” Gavin slumped to the bed and looked at Ian. “Your lack of compunction is amazing,” he said.

  “I am kind hearted, aren’t I,” Ian said.

  “Not compassion, com…oh, forget it,” Gavin said. “Come have some eggnog before dinner.”

  Ian dropped the red pants, revealing slacks underneath and a thick roll of cash fell out of a red pants pocket.

  “What’s that?” Gavin said.

  “The money I earned for wrapping presents,” Ian said.

  “Which you didn’t wrap and stole.”

  Ian picked up the roll and stuck it in his pants pocket. “I love Christmas,” he said, cheerfully. “It’s such a happy time.”

  When Gavin and Ian returned to the living room, Joba was at the bay window. He turned to look at them. “Well, it appears that we’re all spending the night together. That snow is just too much to drive home in.”

  Gavin and Ian exchanged glances.

  Joseph went dashing across the room to Muffie-Jo. “You can have my bed, Aunt Margaret,” he said, sounding a great deal like his father.

  “How nice, Joey,” Prudence said. “But, we have two finished bedrooms in the basement for guests.”

  Hours later, after turkey with trimmings, pie, cake and ice cream were consumed, a very stuffed Gavin, Patience, Ian and Muffie-Jo retired to the sanctity of the basement.

  “Muffie-Jo, you’ll have to sleep with me,” Patience said.

  “Aw, come on,” Gavin said. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Our baby doesn’t know that,” Patience said. “All it knows is it has a behemoth that kicks like a mule and yells Ian in his sleep for a father. If you can swear you won’t kick and choke your pillow in your sleep, you can sleep in the bed with me.”

  Fuming, Gavin looked at Ian. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, hey, wait,” Ian said. “I can’t sleep with…”

  Muffie-Jo kissed Ian on the tip of his nose. “It will be like boy scouts,” she said and looked at Gavin. “Camping out with a big angry boy scout who might choke you in your sleep.”

  “Night boys,” Patience said and she and Muffie-Jo entered a bedroom and closed the door.

  Ian and Gavin entered the second bedroom. The bed was twin size and Gavin knew it was going to be a rough night.

  “You scream my name and choke your pillow?” Ian said “How come?”

  Gavin tossed his shoes off. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Where have you been sleeping at home?”

  “The sofa the last month,” Gavin said.

  “You’re not gonna choke me in my sleep, are you?” Ian said.

  “I’ll do my best,” Gavin said.

  “What?”

  “Not to.”

  Sleeping or making the attempt to sleep proved more difficult that Gavin originally thought. For one thing, Ian snored and not like regular people, but intermittently and for varying lengths of time. He’d snore for three or four minutes, then stop for ten before starting up again for five. In between, he’d mumble something about somebody named Megan Fox before rolling over to snore again with the occasional nose whistle tossed in jus for the hell of it.

  Finally, after several long hours, Gavin started to drift off when he heard a noise from the street. The noise sounded very much like footsteps in the snow. Gavin pushed the glow button on his watch. Footsteps in the snow at two in the morning.

  The window was even with the ground as most basement windows are and this one faced the street. Gavin got out of bed and peered out the window. The wind had died dow
n and the snow was gently falling now and from the light of the streetlamp Gavin spotted the shadow of a lone figure.

  The lone figure carried what appeared very much like a crowbar as he approached Ian’s rented van.

  Gavin turned away from the window. “Ian!”

  In the bed, Ian rolled over.

  “Ian, get up,” Gavin said and shook Ian.

  Ian snorted, wheezed, rolled over and mumbled something about Megan Fox’s tattoos.

  “For Christ sake,” Gavin said, grabbed his shoes and coat.

  Up the stairs, through the living room to the front door. It was unlocked. Gavin opened it and quietly stepped out into the snow where Joba’s footprints led directly to Ian’s rented van.

  Where Joba was trying to bend the thick hasp lock off the back door of the van with the crowbar. “Come on, come on,” Joba whispered.

  “Sure, where we going?” Gavin said as he came up behind Joba.

  “Jeeze Louise,” Joba said as he jumped back, turned and looked at Gavin.

  Gavin took the crowbar from Joba. “That’s called breaking and entering, isn’t it?” Gavin said. “Maybe I should call 911, huh?”

  “We both know this van is full of stolen merchandise,” Joba said.

  “Say it is,” Gavin said. “You got a warrant to search it? I’ve been arrested enough times to know that without a warrant, it just gets tossed. Besides, what do you want to do, put your wife’s brother in jail on Christmas? Think about it.”

  Joba glared at Gavin for a moment. “Oh, Dammit,” he said.

  “Exactly,” Gavin said. “What say we call a truce and enjoy Christmas?”

  Joba nodded.

  Gavin and Joba walked to the front door of the house where the closed door was now locked. Standing in a foot of snow with more snow falling on them, Gavin looked at Joba.

  “I don’t suppose you brought your key?” Gavin said.

  “Oh, Dammit,” Joba said.

  TWO

  Wearing a dark blue Pea coat and wool hat, Gavin’s mood was foul as he walked from his Upper West Side apartment to the Broadway Pub, which wasn’t on Broadway, but

  Amsterdam Avenue. For one thing, he was on his way to meet Ian and that alone was enough to dampen even the brightest spirit. For another thing, just one day removed from Christmas, the city was still decorated with holiday fare, but the good will presented by the general public was now back to its normal gloomy, miserable self. Christmas music spilled out onto the streets from stores and restaurants proclaiming it the hap, hap, happiest time of the year while bankers threw old women to the ground to snare a cab.

  So when Gavin entered the Broadway Pub, his mood wasn’t just foul but downright miserable, made immediately worse by the cheeriness tossed his way by the pub’s owner, a little man with a disgustingly cheerful nature named Garko.

  Not two seconds was Gavin in a seat at the bar and Garko was smiling in front of him. “And a merry day after to you,” Garko said as he filled a glass with tap beer and set it on a coaster.

  Gavin set a twenty on the bar. “Thanks.”

  “Shall I assume the brother-in-law will be joining you shortly?” Garko said.

  “No telling with Ian,” Gavin said and glanced at his watch. At three minutes to four, Ian had three minutes to arrive on time. “But, I’ll take a booth by the window just in case.”

  Twenty-seven minutes later, wearing a full-length wool coat with leather gloves, Ian strolled through the door. He paused as he removed gloves and looked around, then spotted Gavin in the booth by the window.

  “Boy oh boy, it’s cold out there,” Ian said as he removed the coat and slid into the booth opposite Gavin.

  “You’re late,” Gavin said.

  “Actually, I’m early,” Ian said as he removed the cashmere scarf from around his neck. “I told the client five o’clock.”

  “You told me four,” Gavin said.

  “Did I?”

  “You did.”

  “Well, it’s five.”

  Garko appeared at the booth. “Beer” he said, sounding chipper.

  “Ya know, I think I’ll have a hot tardy in keeping with the spirit of things,” Ian said, equally as chipper.

  “Excellent,” Garko said and looked at Gavin’s money on the table. “I assume you’re…”

  “Go away,” Gavin said.

  Garko dashed back to the bar.

  Ian shook his head.

  “What?” Gavin said.

  “He’s always such a cheery little guy and you act like he’s something you stepped in,” Ian said.

  “You want to cheer me up,” Gavin said. “Pick up the tab.”

  “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean anything by that,” Ian said. “I was just saying.”

  Gavin took a sip of his beer, which was warm by now. “Is he going to show?”

  “He’ll show,” Ian said. “He’s crazy.”

  Gavin glared at Ian.

  “I mean crazy in a good way,” Ian said. “Like crazy like a fox, like that.”

  Gavin took another sip of his beer just as Garko arrived with Ian’s hot tardy. “One hot tamale for the gentleman,” Garko said and scooped up ten dollars of Gavin’s money.

  “Keep the change,” Ian said.

  “None was forthcoming,” Garko said and dashed back to the bar.

  Ian took a small sip from his mug. “Say, this is really good. You should try one.”

  “Never mind that, tell me about the client,” Gavin said.

  Ian took another sip from his mug, set the mug down and snapped, “Well, jeeze, don’t hold it against him.”

  Gavin squinted at Ian.

  “I mean, after all, who among us is without quirks, right?”

  Gavin glared at Ian.

  “Certainly not us, right?” Ian said.

  Gavin squinted and glared at Ian.

  “Okay, jeeze, you don’t give a guy any room,” Ian said.

  Gavin sighed loudly, then said, “Let’s start from the beginning and from beginning, I mean how you got wind of this crazy like a fox client.”

  “Oh, see, what happened is he…”

  “No,” Gavin said. “How did he find you? You said at Christmas you took a call from Johnny Peru. Go from there.”

  “Oh, well, see, he found Johnny Peru actually and Johnny Peru found me,” Ian said. “He left a call back number and I met him for the prelim and here we are.”

  “If he’s willing to fork over twenty grand just for a meeting, he must want something pretty bad,” Gavin said. “I don’t suppose you know what?”

  “I’d rather he explained it to you when he gets here,” Ian said. “I don’t want to prejudice your opinion of him anymore than it already is.”

  “I’m not…”

  “There he is,” Ian whispered. “If he’s wearing a dress, ignore it.”

  “What?”

  Waldo Wallace spotted Ian at the booth, dusted the snow off his fine Scottish made coat and swaggered over to the booth.

  “Mr. Nelson,” Wallace said. “I must say, I had the quite the time finding this place. When you said the Broadway Pub, you failed to mention it was on

  Amsterdam Avenue.” Gavin gave Wallace a quick once over. Bare ankles peeked out under his coat.

  “Did I?” Ian said. “Well, see I…”

  “I’m Waldo Wallace,” Waldo said to Gavin. “You are?”

  “This idiot’s partner,” Gavin said.

  With his coat on, Waldo sat next to Ian. Immediately, Garko was at the booth.

  “What will it be?” Garko said to Waldo.

  “A tall glass of your finest imported single blend scotch from an unopened bottle,” Waldo said.

  “Excellent,” Garko said. “Room temperature?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you gents?” Garko said to Ian and Gavin.

  “I’ll have another of these tardys,” Ian said. “And fill my friend’s glass.”

  With a dash, Garko was gone.

  “So, gents,
where shall we begin?” Waldo said.

  “With a cab ride and twenty thousand dollars,” Gavin said.

  “Yes, the money we agreed upon, but a cab ride?”

  “Where are you staying?” Gavin said.

  “The Marriott in Times Square.”

  “They have a revolving bar on the 15th floor,” Gavin said.

  “I love that place,” Ian said. “The view.”

  “We’ll meet you there in one hour,” Gavin said.

  Garko returned with a tray and set the drinks down. He eyed Gavin. “Tab?”

  “Go away,” Gavin said.

  In a flash, Garko was behind the bar.

  “I must admit that I’m a bit perplexed by your behavior,” Waldo said, picked up his glass and downed eight ounces of pure Scotch as if drinking tap water.

  “Me, too,” Ian said and took a massive sip from his hot tardy, which burned his mouth and lips.

  “Think of it as a test,” Gavin said. “If you’re for real, we’ll all enjoy a quiet drink in a fine bar and we’ll have much to talk about. If you’re not for real and say the cops just happen to be in that fine bar, then my friend and I are out enjoying a quiet drink, we don’t know you and at some later date you will have your face removed by a very large and angry man named Jack.”

  “That’s how these things work,” Ian said, sipping Gavin’s cold beer to sooth his burnt lips and tongue.

  “Cops and robbers, I love it,” Waldo said and stood up. “See you in one hour.”

  “We love it, too,” Ian said. “The robbers part, not the cops.”

  With a nod, Waldo walked to the door and out.

  “Well, there goes an easy twenty grand,” Ian said.

  “If he’s for real, he’ll fork it over,” Gavin said.

  “Say,” Ian said. “Isn’t that Johnny Peru walking in?”

  “Since I invited him to join us, I’d say it is,” Gavin said.

  Tall, thin, with a long gray ponytail, Johnny Peru opened his coat as he walked to the booth. “Been a while, Lee,” Peru said as he sat next to Ian.

  Immediately, Garko was at the booth. “A newcomer,” he said of Peru. “And what shall it be?”

  “Gimme a shot of rye, a shot of bourbon, a shot of Scotch and a black coffee,” Peru said.

  “An adventurous man,” Garko said as dashed off to the bar.

  “So how’s the car repair business these days?” Gavin said.