Smooth Call

by Ken Kelly

They sat in silence for a minute and then Rick asked for the knife. Gloria passed it to him, her hand shaking slightly. Rick pulled a crumpled paper napkin from his pocket and wiped the blade clean. He put the knife on the table near the edge and a moment later moved his hand and knocked it to the floor. A waiter moved quickly to pick it up and told Rick he’d bring him a new one right away.

  “Wow,” said Rick, after a moment.

  “Yeah,” said Gloria.

  “You handled that pretty…decisively.”

  “ I suppose. I didn’t know what else to do. I hate people like that...bullies, creepy bastards. I’d rather be dead than be pushed around by people like him.”

  “Was that true what you said about the femoral artery?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I saw it on ‘NCIS’ or maybe ‘Law and Order’.”

  “Come on.”

  “It’s true.”

  “How do you know about tubular vessels, arteries and capillaries?”

  “I’m a nurse but I’ve never had to deal with anyone bleeding from severing a femoral artery. I know it does happen though, in real life and in ‘Law and Order’.”

  “You’re a nurse? I assumed you were a professional poker player.”

  “I do play a lot of poker but I don’t consider myself a professional.”

  “But you win money at it, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “A lot?”

  “Enough to make it worthwhile.”

  “Back to the femoral artery - what were the circumstances? In ‘Law and Order,’ not real life.

  Gloria leaned forward and said, “I don’t remember the circumstances Rick, it was a TV show. Now let me ask a question. Did anyone ever tell you that it can be exasperating being asked question after question?”

  “No, you’re the first.”

  “Seriously?” she said, her eyebrows lifting.

  “No, I’ve heard it before. After the first couple of hundred times I started to believe it might be true but it’s a hard habit to break.”

  She laughed, “Well you’re not in denial, that’s a start.”

  “Here’s a question on another subject.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did you talk to the casino when Salucci pulled his stunt?”

  “I talked to one of the floor men and he explained why there was nothing they could do. What he said made sense and besides it’s a moot point because this cool guy got the money back for me.”

  Rick smiled. “It worked out well for me too. This beautiful woman took me out for dinner which was great except that she had to cut the leg of a suspected assassin and we’ll have to pay for his drink.”

  “Oh well.”

  “Want to go out on Grand and look at the cars?”

  When the bill came Rick tried to take it, explaining that he’d charged Salucci an extra hundred because he was acting like a jerk. “Jerk tax” he called it. But Gloria insisted and paid the bill.

  “You can use that hundred for the second date, if you want,” she said.

  “Deal.”

  Out on Grand Avenue there were still plenty of classic cars. They walked up and down the street looking at the cars and keeping an eye out for Salucci. It was a natural thing to do but unnerving. When they came to a bar called O. Sullivan’s Gloria said, “You want to go in for a beer?”

  “Sure.”

  They walked in, found a table, and sat across from each other. Soon they each had a pint of Bass Ale in front of them. Gloria took a long pull at her beer. “I don’t mind telling you,” she said, “that shook me up. I’m still shook up, I can’t believe it.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty scary. Especially for Salucci, I’d imagine, thinking he might be dead in five minutes.”

  “I wasn’t really going to cut him a second time.”

  “He didn’t know that though. I think he thought you would and that’s why he didn’t struggle and why his face turned so white.”

  “Did it? That’s good.”

  “When we were walking out there I found myself looking over my shoulder for Salucci or his car...”

  “Me to, I...”

  “It’s natural when something like this happens. He might come after us but it won’t be tonight. He’ll want to get that cut looked at and change his clothes. And he won’t figure us to hang around once we’ve finished eating.”

  “But we are hanging around.”

  “Yes, but he won’t figure us to so he won’t be looking for us here. He won’t be looking for us at all, he’ll be taking care of the cut. That’s my theory anyway.”

  “Rick, I’m going to have another beer. If I drink too much will you take care of me?”

  “Sure, but how much is too much, on top of the wine at the restaurant and the beer you just had?”

  “One more pint ought to do it.”

  Another pint of “The World’s Finest Pale Ale,” and Rick concluded Gloria was a good judge of how much she could drink. When they left O. Sullivan’s she took his upper arm in both her hands and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “I think I drank too much,” she said.

  “I think you’re right.”

  “I’m not worried about Salucci anymore.”

  “That’s good.”

  “He might come later though.”

  “He might.”

  “What are we going to do if he comes later?”

  “I’ve got a couple of ideas. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s my truck, we have to cross the street.”

  Rick helped Gloria into the passenger side then went around and got behind the wheel. He drove over to Valley Parkway and down to City Center Drive, then up Grand to Gloria’s Prius. Gloria was leaning back in her seat, her eyes closed. “I’m going to hook up your car so I can drive you both home.” Gloria didn’t respond so Rick said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Yes, it’s a yes.”

  Rick got out of the truck and started the process. When he was just about done a policeman rolled up in his black and white. “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” said Rick. “A lady had a little too much to drink so called a towing service to get her home.”

  “Wise lady,” said the cop as he drove off.

  When the car was secure on the bed of the truck Rick climbed into the cab and pulled out. He looked over at Gloria, smiled and said, “Where to?”

  “I live in San Diego, can you take me there?”

  “Of course, where else would I take you?”

  “I don’t know. You could drop me off in the middle of the Mojave Deseret and make me walk back.” Gloria sighed and then started to cry softly.

  Rick gave Gloria a quick look and then brought his eyes back to the road. He said, “I don’t think that would work too well with the price of gas the way it is. I could pull over here, let you out, and then meet you at your house.”

  Gloria laughed. “Probably shouldn’t do that either. I probably should just let you drive me home.”

  “That sounds like the best choice.”

  “I’m so sorry Rick for causing all this trouble. For getting involved with Salucci, for letting him follow me to the restaurant, for getting him pissed off this afternoon.”

  “Gloria, come on. You’re not a special agent who’s trained to detect someone shadowing you. It could have just as easily been me and I know I wouldn’t have noticed. And remember, he’s the one who got things started by cheeting you out of that pot. Then I got him for $600 which I didn’t have to do, so maybe I’m second at fault behind him. I don’t see where you’re responsible for all that much.”

  “I cut through his clothes and skin in the restaurant and threatened his life.”

  Rick raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, well, there is that.”

  Once Gloria gave him her address Rick punched it into the GPS and thirt
y five minutes later they were in front of her house. He touched her shoulder, shook her lightly, and said, “We’re here.”

  She woke up, yawned, and looked around like she was in a new place. Finally everything came together. “We’re here,” she said.

  Rick smiled then looked behind him. There was plenty of room to drop the Prius and he wondered if he should do it right away.

  “I’m going to make a tea or a hot chocolate or something. You want one?”

  “Sure. I’ll come up as soon as I drop your car.”

  “Come on,” she said, and waved him in. “You can do that later.”

  Gloria took Rick’s arm, like she had before, and led him up the cement path to the house. She opened the front door, reached in to turn on the lights, and guided Rick into the room. “Nice,” he said as he looked around. The house had a good sized living room and dining room. The kitchen, right off the dining room, was good sized as well and had a dining room table with six chairs. The ceiling and all the walls were an off white and the carpet a light brown.

  “You want to see the rest?”

  “Sure,” said Rick, wanting to be polite. He didn’t always want to tour people’s houses but always tried to look interested. Then he thought maybe Gloria didn’t especially enjoy showing her house but was just being polite. He knew it wasn’t impolite to not offer to show your house, at least he thought so. It’s probably alright either way. So what was he worried about? Let her show you the house.

  The tour was quick, two and a half bathrooms, four bedrooms - hers, her roommate’s and a guest room and an office/workout room with a pull out couch for visitors.

  Just then there was a screech outside that made Rick cringe. Gloria pulled back the shade and looked out the window. “It’s Fran my roommate. Don’t say anything about me cutting Salucci, alright?”

  Rick mimed pulling a zipper across his lips just as Fran made her entrance. “Hi Gloria,” she said with a glance at Rick.”

  She’s a looker, Rick thought. Tall, about 5’10’, with a worked out body, her muscles strong but subtle – she wasn’t a bulk builder. She had a pretty face and thick long blonde hair that fell from a pony tail on the top of her head.

  “Rick, I’d like you to meet my roommate, Fran. Fran this is my friend Rick Mills.”

  “Nice to meet you too Fran.”

  “Nice to meet you to,” said Fran. She looked in Rick’s eyes and it made him feel she meant it. “Gloria, what is your car doing on the back of a tow truck?”

  “I was just giving her a ride home,” said Rick.

  “Well that’s one way to do it.”

  Rick laughed. “I should get going,” he said.

  Gloria came with him while he dropped the car and then gave him a hug. “Here’s some gas money,” she said and handed him a twenty and a five.

  Rick thought about refusing the money but he figured Gloria wasn’t going to have that. Might as well save his breath and get some gas.

  When Salucci left the restaurant he drove up Grand to the Palomar Hospital. He pulled up a ramp to the emergency room, drove past it and into the parking structure. It was free parking, thank God. Salucci hated to pay for parking. At least once a year he took a group of people to a Chargers game and paid a bundle for tickets. He’d spend at least $100 for beers and hotdogs but wait, first he had to pay too park. Teen-aged mall crawlers could spend all day at the mall and buy nothing. When they left they’d drive away in daddy’s car right out to the freeway without having to wait for the arm that goes up only after you pay. But go to a sporting event you’re going to pay to park. If you don’t like it, go to the mall. It pissed Frank off, no end.

  He parked and took the elevator to the emergency room. The blood had run down his leg but you couldn’t see much because of his dark slacks. The white cloth napkin was a totally different story; bright red blood was in abundance. Salucci looked around and to his surprise the room was relatively unpopulated. He limped up to the desk where a nurse, who looked to be about 40, sat behind a grey gun metal desk. One look at her and Salucci knew she wasn’t someone you’d want to try to put one over on.

  She stood up and looked at Salucci’s leg. “How did that happen?”

  That’s when Salucci realized he didn’t have a story. “I got cut,” he managed.

  Salucci sensed that the nurse was going to catch him in a lie if he didn’t think of something. The nurse squinted ever so slightly. “I can see that you’re cut but I want to know how you got cut.”

  Salucci was in a spot that the truth would get him of, but if he told how the girl cut him the nurse would inform the police and the police would investigate, and he didn’t want that.

  “It’s kind of embarrassing,” he said, trying to win a little sympathy. “I was at my sister’s house for a family dinner and was showing my nephew the correct way to carve a stake from a limb. He’s a Boy Scout and everyone in his troop was supposed to make a lean to. I don’t know what kind of wood the limb was but it was difficult to whittle. I really had to push hard and the knife slipped off the wood and cut my leg.”

  Frank gave the nurse the most sincere look he could muster and thought, that was my best shot babe, believe it or do what you have to do. The nurse must have believed it because she gave him a form to fill out. He showed his insurance card, sat in the waiting room fifteen minutes, and then got called back to see the doctor, a young guy in a lab coat and red tie. The doctor had him take off his pants and looked at the wound. “It’s not too deep,” he said, “and it looks like its stopped bleeding. I’ll clean it up, stitch it, and you’ll be out of here.”

  The doctor left and fifteen minutes later returned rolling a metal tray with the tools he’d need for the job. “This is going to sting a little,” the doctor said right before cleaning the wound.

  Sting a little? It stings like hell, Salucci thought. The doctor gave him a shot for pain and disappeared again. When he returned he put a dozen stitches and a bandage across the cut and told Salucci he was good to go.

  “When do I have to return to have the stitches taken out?”

  “You don’t, they’ll dissolve by themselves.”

  Salucci shook his head and said, “What do you think of that?” Then he walked tenderly to the elevator which took him up to his car. He gingerly got in and headed home. On the way he thought about what he was going to do to Rick the tow truck driver and his girlie-girl, girl friend.

  A week after Gloria cut Salucci at Joe’s Garden Cuisine Rick and two of his longtime friends were having a few beers together in a place just outside the gas lamp district . Rick Mills, Carl “Fast Eddie” Felson, and Jerry Hays had been friends since grade school and tried to get together every few weeks or so. Hays was teasing Felson about his nick-name which came from the movie “The Hustler” where Paul Newman played a small time pool hustler named Fast Eddie Felson.

  “Hey Jerry, give it a rest will you? That movie was made at least twenty years before I was born. I can’t help it if I have the same last name as some fictional character of the 1960’s.”

  “Come on Carl, you have to admit that ‘Fast Eddie’ is a pretty cool handle.”

  “You think so?” Carl waited a few long seconds and then started his tale. “I’ve got a cousin, who’s married to a Canadian girl and lives in Vancouver. Like a few others I could name,” Carl looked at Jerry who managed to keep a straight face, “he likes to call me ‘Fast Eddie,’ which is odd seeing his name is also Felson.

  “I was up there a couple of summers ago and we were in some bar having a few beers. Of course he’s calling me ‘Fast Eddie’ like he always did, and there are plenty of drunk Canuks around, some of them probably not all that friendly toward American’s. There were four guys at a table near us who kept looking our way. Three of them were about our age, and one looked to be in his fifties, old enough to be familiar with the ‘The Hustler.’

  “When my cousin got up to use the can the t
hree young guys come up, called me ‘Fast Eddie’ and told me they were going to take me outside and break my thumbs just like in the movie – a life imitates art situation.”

  Carl knew how to get a lot of mileage out of a good story so he paused and let the silence build suspense. Finally Jerry said, “So what happened? Did they break your thumbs?”

  Carl held up his hands, moved his thumbs rapidly, and said, “No. Two of the guys pulled me up and started walking me toward the door. The third guy was leading the way, walking right in front of me. I’d just bought a pair of cowboy boots, the kind that come to a point, and I kicked the guy in front hard right between the legs, a direct hit. He howled, grabbed his nuts and fell forward into a fetal position, eyes closed, crying and moaning, taking deep breaths.”

  “One of the other guys went to help the fallen comrade and the third guy let go of my arm and just stood there like he didn’t know what to do. My cousin came out of the john so I told the guy that he was a badass and warned him that the four of them should make themselves scarce. It wasn’t really necessary though, I could tell that there was no fight left in them.”

  “Is your cousin really a badass?” said Rick.

  “No, not really, but they didn’t know that. And after what happened to their home boy they didn’t want to find out. But something really good came out of the incident – you know what it was?”

  “Tell us,” said Jerry.

  “From that day on my cousin calls me Carl, no more Fast Eddie which is appropriate since I’m not that fast at anything and I don’t have anything in common with Fast Eddie Felson, except a last name. I don’t even play pool.”

  They ordered another beer and talked some more. When Rick was half finished with his beer he said, “I’ve got to go, I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Practicing law?”

  “Driving a tow truck. I’ve graduated from law school but I haven’t taken the bar.”

  “When are you going to take it?” said Carl.

  “End of July. If I pass I’ll be a lawyer and might even get a job.”

  “You’re a smart guy,” said Jerry. “You’ll pass.”

  “I hope so, but it’s a tough test. It took Jerry Brown two tries, and Pete Wilson four.”

  “How about Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Governator? He defeated Wilson, right?” said Jerry.

  Carl rubbed his chin like he was deep in thought. “As I recall he took it once but failed. At the time he said, ‘I’ll be back,’ but then he became Governor, and when that was over it was back to the movies.”

  “I’m sure it was something like that. Hey, I’ll catch you guys later.”

  Carl and Jerry raised their glasses. “Yo,” they said as Rick walked out.

  When he exited the bar Rick noticed a guy leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Another man, thirty yards down the street, pushed off a parked car and walked toward him. At about ten yards the guy heading his way said, in a surprisingly polite and pleasant voice, “Excuse me, do you have the time?”

  Rick kept walking, looked at his watch, and said, “Ten forty five.”

  The man, who was a little taller and heavier than Rick, could see he had no intention of stopping so he stepped in front of him and pushed hard against his shoulders. They timed it perfectly and as soon as Rick went back the man behind him wrapped his arms around him, pinning Rick’s arms to his sides. His partner, who was wearing padded, fingerless gloves, went to work.

  The first punch hit Rick in the right eye. The guy was not only polite, thought Rick, he could punch. Rick knew if he was going to yell now was the time, before his mouth began taking hits. He let out a blood curdling cry for help and took a couple of punches while he waited to see if anyone had heard. Right before the forth punch Carl, Jerry and a bartender came flying out of the bar. Jerry had brought a bar stool and the bartender was carrying the thick end of a sawed off pool cue.

  Seeing the situation change the assailants released Rick and ran. Carl grabbed the shortened pool cue from the bartender’s hand and threw it at the fleeing men. The cue traveled end over end like a tomahawk and hit the puncher in his upper back causing him to veer into a parking meter and crash to the ground. It appeared that he and his partner didn’t have a no-man-left-behind policy because the cigarette smoker kept running and never looked back. Carl ran over and picked up the pool cue. He stood over the downed assailant and told him to stay where he was.

  Jerry and the bartender helped Rick up, and the bartender picked up the stool. He called out to Carl, “Bring back that cue when you’re done and make sure it’s clean.”

  “You got it Boss,” said Carl, his eyes never leaving the man stretched out on the sidewalk.

  Jerry helped Rick walk to where the puncher laid on his back looking up.

  “Who are you working for?” asked Rick. “Who wanted me beat up?”

  The puncher looked up at the three men and decided there were more good reasons to talk than not to, but first he’d test their resolve. “I’ve got nothing to say. I’m taking the fifth.”

  “The fifth amendment is for the courtroom not for the street. If you don’t want to talk we can’t make you but my friend here can go to work on your legs and ribs with his pool cue. You up to that?” said Rick, with a nod toward Carl.

  “Absolutely,” said Carl as he tapped the cue on the palm of his hand.

  “Alright, “said the puncher, holding his hands up to let Carl know he wasn’t going to need the pool cue. The guy who paid us was tall, about 6’ 3,” dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a light suit, no tie. He didn’t give his name, which is not unusual in this type of work. But he was driving a blue Cadillac with vanity plates that read COOLCAD.”

  “Frank Salucci,” said Rick, to no one in particular.

  “Whose Frank Salucci?” said Jerry.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Can I get up?”

  “Yeah, go ahead, but don’t go anywhere or…”

  “Don’t worry, I got the picture.”

  When the puncher was up, he said, “Something else you’ll want to know is that the guy, Salucci or whatever his name is, wanted us to beat up a girl named Gloria. I told him we didn’t do girls but he probably hired someone else to do it.”

  “Thanks,” said Rick. “Tell me, why are you volunteering this information?”

  “I don’t like to see girls hurt. It might be too late but maybe you can do something for her. I didn’t like the guy and his Cadillac. He struck me as a pompous, probably dangerous, jerk. And I’d appreciate it if you let me walk without calling the cops.”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. What do you guys think?”

  “It’s your call,” said Jerry. “He wasn’t pounding on our heads.”

  “Okay dude, off you go. You get a free pass this time.”

  “Thanks man, I owe you one,” he said as he fished a scrap of paper and a pen out of his pocket, wrote his name and phone number, and handed it to Rick.

  “If there’s ever anything I can help you with give me a call. Any type of work at all, not just mashing people. I appreciate that you’re not calling the cops, most people would.”

  Rick looked at the scrap of paper. “All right Earl Riely, I call if I need you. What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m an actor, in a manner of speaking. I’ve had enough work so I could join the Screen Actors Guild and pay dues. I collected a little unemployment after I worked in a couple of commercials and a TV show. I can do handyman work, yard work, car maintenance.”

  “By the way, how did you know who you were supposed to work over?”

  “The Caddy man showed us a picture.”

  Rick scratched his head, “How did he get a picture of me? I was never around him for very long.”

  “Maybe he got one with his phone. Maybe he lifted it off Facebook. Maybe he hired someone to take a long range shot. There are a lot of ways to get a picture these days. And if yo
u’re wondering how we knew where you were, he told us that too.”

  Rick and Earl took off in different directions and Carl and Jerry went back into the bar where their beers waited. When they were seated Jerry said, “That was quite a throw with the sawed off pool cue.”

  “Lucky shot.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe ‘Fast Eddie’ is not such an inappropriate moniker after all.”

  Carl did his deep thought routine. Finally he said, “You could be right, Jerry, you could be right.”

  Jerry laughed and then Carl started laughing. They laughed until it was hard to stop.

  Rick called Gloria from the tow truck.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Gloria, it’s me Rick. Sorry to call so late.”

  “That’s alright, what’s up?”

  Rick explained what happened and what Earl had said about Salucci’s plans for Gloria.

  “Well first off, are you alright?”

  “Yeah, my boys rescued me before any real damage occurred.”

  “That’s good, and we’ll be on the lookout.”

  “You might want to have your phone set to speed dial 911.”

  “I will. Thanks for the heads up.”

  * * *

  Chapter 4