Smooth Call

by Ken Kelly

“He was an interesting guy,” said Rick as they drove the last few miles to North Las Vegas. “I noticed he was thoroughly checking you out while I was getting his Chevy where he wanted it.”

  “That’s the price you pay when you’re dating a girl with glamorous, runway model looks.”

  “You forgot ‘drop dead gorgeous’.”

  “I didn’t forget, I just didn’t want you to look over and drop dead while you’re driving.”

  “But seriously, it must be flattering to have men admiring you.”

  “Sure, sometimes it is. It depends on the situation. It was alright with George because we know him, slightly, and he seems like a nice guy, you were there and we were leaving soon. Also he was very low key, even respectful, so yeah it was fun.”

  “But...?”

  “But it’s not always like that. I was in a restaurant once with some of my friends and walked past a table with half a dozen drunken young suits. One of them made a comment and the rest tried to outdo him. It gave me the creeps but all I could do was keep walking. Later I saw one of them in the parking structure. There was no one else around, just him and me. He recognized me and started in again with the comments, only this time he starts walking toward me.

  “The guy tried to run after me but he was too drunk to catch me. I got in my car, pointed it at him and floored it. He just stood there like a deer in the headlights. I came to my senses and slammed on the breaks. Of course I didn’t stop right away, the car kept moving toward the guy. I think the squealing brakes might of jolted him from drunk to drunk aware because he dived out of the way, even though the car had already come to a stop six feet from him.

  “He dived into a parked motorcycle, hit the engine block head on and knocked himself out, or maybe he just passed out. I went over and made sure he was breathing and when I saw that he was I left.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “What for, so I could stand around while the cops took my statement about something I couldn’t prove? Besides when the suit woke up he might tell the cops I’d run the car straight at him and he had to dive to avoid getting hit. If the cops checked out the skid marks it would prove the guy’s story and I’d be the one leaving the scene in handcuffs.”

  “Good point.”

  “Anyway the moral of the story is sometimes it’s nice when men check you out and sometimes it’s anything but…hey, where are you going?”

  “This is the turn off.”

  Twenty minutes later, after finding the hotel and parking the truck, Gloria and Rick stood in line at the check in counter of the Four Queens Hotel. While they waited their turn they looked back at the casino behind them. The ceilings were lower than those of most of the casinos on the Strip, but they were high enough. There was a lot of gambling, people playing blackjack, roulette, craps and of course, slot machines. Most of them seemed to be having a good time.

  Without taking her eyes off the action Gloria said, “This place makes me feel like I’ve gone back in time.”

  “Excuse me,” called a pleasant voice behind them, “are you checking in?”

  “Yes,” said Rick as he and Gloria rolled their bags up to the desk. “My name is Rick Mills and this is Gloria Hesselgrave. We have reservations.”

  “Okay,” said the lady with the nice voice as she typed on the keyboard at warp speed. She looked to be about 30 and, Rick couldn’t help but notice, she had a lot of nice things going for her, not just her voice. “We have you registered for two days, is that correct?”

  “Yes, at least two days, maybe more.”

  “Could I see the credit card you used to make the reservation and a picture I.D.?”

  Rick showed her the visa card and his driver’s license which she looked at and returned.

  “Thank you Mr. Mills. We have you in room 726, here are your room keys. Do you need any help with your bags?”

  “No, thanks, we’re okay.”

  The elevator was just a few yards from the front desk and when they pushed the button the door open immediately. A couple of minutes later Rick unlocked the door to room 726 and held it open for Gloria who entered, walked to the center of the room, looked around and said, “Nice.”

  Rick liked staying in hotels because it meant he was somewhere else and doing something different. As long as their room temperature was alright, the television worked, sheets were clean and the bathroom had plenty of hot water, that’s all you needed.

  The room was laid out simply with the bathroom to the left when you entered the door. The closet on the right and next to the closet was space of a luggage rack, and then a long, high table with a flat screen television. After the flat screen was a writing table, with a telephone and a chair. The beds, two queen size, faced the television and were separated by a night stand, which had another phone and reading lamps, one for each bed.

  While Rick was taking this in Gloria swung her bag onto a luggage stand and started removing her clothes. She smiled at Rick as she ducked into the bathroom. “First dibs on the shower.”

  A few minutes later Rick heard the water go off and Gloria toweling herself dry. Then the bathroom door opened and she emerged with a bath towel wrapped around her. She walked past Rick and said, “It’s all yours.”

  When Rick finished his shower he came out with a towel around his waist and spotted Gloria on the far bed, lying on her side, naked except for the corner of a sheet covering her hip. She was leafing through a magazine that lay on the bed in front of her.

  “You look nice,” said Rick, “actually you look nicer than that.”

  “Thanks, nicer than nice is the look I was going for.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “I don’t know but it’s not any good,” said Gloria as she tossed it on the other bed. “Come here before you slip out of my seductive clutches.”

  A half an hour later when they were side by side on their backs, taking deep breaths, sweating and laughing and talking about sex and how fun it was, Rick turned and faced Gloria and told her she didn’t have to worry about him slipping out of her seductive clutches. He couldn’t escape, she was holding him to tight.

  She gave him a crafty look and said, “Good.”

  Fran didn’t have to work on the day Rick laid his lawyer rap on dear Dr. Randolph Finch, called Randy the Roster or, sometimes, Randy Dandy by the female staff. The day was centered around the morning showdown and when Rick pulling it off like a Butch and Sundance bank job, Fran had the rest of the day free. But she had no plan. She decided to go out to breakfast and think things over.

  Over a bowl of hot oatmeal with milk and brown sugar she realized the mornings excitement had taken its toll on her and she was tired. The house could use a clean, and she could use some exercise. She paid for the food, left an 18% tip, drove home and dropped on the bed. Ninety minutes later she woke up, made a pot of coffee and went to work.

  She stripped the sheets and pillowcases off her bed, threw them into the washer with some of her other laundry, and started the machine. She dusted her room with a feather duster, straightened up whatever needed straightening, and swept up the floor.

  The living room was the same drill without the bed. When she finished she looked over the kitchen and decided she’d spend 15 minutes max cleaning it. The dishwasher had clean dishes in it so she put them away and filled it with dirty dishes from the sink and counters. She wiped the table, which didn’t really need it, and then the stove top which did. Then she swept the floor. When she was done she checked her watch and was happy to see she’d beat the deadline by two and a half minutes.

  Then she went into the kitchen and made a large salad with spinach, onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and tuna. She popped a beer she’d taken from the fridge and swallowed a mouthful, rewarding herself for doing the housework and celebrating the mornings victory and the fact that she still had a job. She took the salad and beer into the living room and consumed them while flipping channels through various
programs, avoiding advertisements like drunks on a bus.

  When the salad was done she clicked off the screen, got her roller blades, helmet and pads from a closet in her room. She put on a blue, white and yellow bikini top, then a pair of short jean shorts and some low top tennis shoes. Then a long billed fisherman’s cap to keep the sun off her face, and a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in case she wanted to do something after. Tight shorts and a revealing top were fine while rollerblading on the beach but away from the beach you were a target for every male commentator between the ages of 16 and 60.

  Fran stood with her back to the full leant mirror that she kept in her bedroom. She turned her head toward the mirror and wiggled her butt in a circular motion as fast as she could. “And who could blame them,” she said to the mirror. Just kidding, she thought, sort of.

  She threw her gear in the trunk of the car and headed for the beach. As she drove she wondered if this should be a meet guys day or a not meet guys day. Probably a not meet guys day. She had a lot on her mind, the main thing being that the thing with Finch wouldn’t be over until they talked and worked things out. Maybe today wasn’t the best time to take a day off, but hey it was a scheduled day off. Finch would know that by checking the schedule so if she did show up to work he’d probably see that as a weakness.

  She should see the day off as a blessing. She worked hard and needed a day off, and this was it. Also Finch wouldn’t be able to cut a deal with her today so he’d have another day to think about all the hurt that she would put on him unless he could persuade, or even beg, her to make the deal, which, thanks to Rick, he saw as more important to himself then to Fran.

  Fran got in her car, drove to the 5 south, went down a few exits, got off and headed toward the beach. As she started keeping her eye out for a parking space someone pulled out right in front of her. She maneuvered into the spot before a motorcycle behind her had a chance to swoop in. The motorcyclist raised his middle finger as he drove by and Fran yelled a pleasantry which she knew he wouldn’t hear. Too much engine noise and he probably had headphones underneath his helmet pounding death metal into his pea brain.

  Forget it she thought, as she got her gear from the trunk. Stay positive. She’d just found a miracle parking place almost before she started looking, which was a rare as finding a winning lottery ticket on the street.

  Fran put on her helmet, wrist guards, elbow and knee pads and finally her roller blades. She tossed her tennis shoes into the trunk and skated toward the beach. It didn’t take long to reach the cement path that ran behind the houses closest to the beach. Once she did Fran didn’t hesitate.

  Staying to the right, just like when driving, she pulled into the traffic of roller bladders, bicyclists, and walkers, all enjoying the early afternoon sun that San Diego was blessed with 300 days a year. She headed north and picked up speed, passing a number of walkers, a few fellow roller bladders, and a leisurely bike or two. She was passed by some not so leisurely bicyclists, and a group of serious roller bladders, but it didn’t bother her, she was here to exercise and enjoy the day.

  As she skated by a bench she noticed a nice looking guy in a T-shirt and jeans, smoking a cigar, wasn’t that against the law? He smiled as she went by and she smiled back. Nice, Fran thought, and kept skating. She skated hard, 15 minutes up, and then started back, keeping the same pace, sweating now and breathing hard. When she got near the bench she saw the cute guy, looking the other way now, no cigar. Then a pebble jammed the wheels of her skate and she left the ground, flying swiftly through the air, waiting for the unhappy ending. She landed on her right shoulder and skidded a few feet, losing skin on the way.

  When she stopped moving Fran lay still for a moment. She looked up and saw people milling around, looking down at her, and she wanted to scream, I’m all right! But she knew she wasn’t. Her bones ached but seemed intact. Her right shoulder and the right side of her upper back felt like she’d been stung by 1000 killer bees from Africa or South America, whichever was worse. Then the guy from the bench was leaning over her.

  “Are you okay?” Without waiting for an answer he bent further so he could see her shoulder and back. “You’re bleeding from your right side. We should get you off the ground and over to the bench. I can pull you up by your left hand and help you over.”

  “Thanks,” said Fran and held out her hand.

  He took it and a woman behind Fran said she’d help to. The woman, plus sized but shapely, lifted her from under her arms, careful not to touch her abrasions, and the cute guy in the T-shirt and jeans held her hand, steadying her as she rolled to the bench.

  “Thank you,” said Fran and then grimaced as the wind blew on her back.

  “I’m parked right over there. I have a first aid kit in my car which I could have here in five minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll be here.”

  “I’ll stay with you until he gets back,” said the woman who’d helped her up. “That was quite a spill.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a helmet and pads everywhere except where I hit. I’ll need to start wearing shoulder pads, look like a female NFL wanna be.”

  A few minutes later the woman saw the rescuer coming back with the first aid kit. She almost wondered aloud if the incident would start something between the guy and the blonde roller bladder, but then thought better of it. The poor girl was cut up and hurting and probably didn’t want to hear speculations about her social and/or sex life from a complete stranger.

  Good to his word the guy was back in under five minutes but Fran wasn’t sure that was a good thing when he started to apply hydrogen peroxide to her shoulder and back.

  “Ohooo, that hurts!

  “Sorry but I have to get it clean so it doesn’t get infected. When I’m done with that I’ll tape some gauze on the worst parts and that should do it. What’s your name?”

  “My name is Fran. Ohooo, that hurts worse than the last time!”

  “I’m Bobby. Don’t worry, that’s it, no more hydrogen peroxide. I’ll tape the gauze on now, but it won’t hurt, at least not much.”

  “If it hurts at all I’m going to run out into the ocean and drown myself. I can’t stand any more pain.”

  “Okay, sit still and I’ll finish the job as painlessly as humanly possible.” He worked for a few minutes more before announcing he was done.

  “Nice job. The last part was painless, just like you said.”

  “In another life I might have been ‘Painless’ Parker.”

  “‘Painless’ Parker?”

  “He was a dentist/showman in the late 1800’s. My grandfather told us his father saw him do his show on a street corner in San Francisco. ‘Painless’ Parker’ would have a patient in his dental chair, tilted back so he could look into the guy’s mouth. After a good look he’d go out in the crowd, bug out his eyes and loudly proclaim, “It’s got to come out!”

  “Then he’d go back to the patient, produce and extraction tool and yank out the tooth. He’d bug his eyes out again and run out in the crowd to show them the tooth, and give them some dental-speak about why he’d had to perform this life saving procedure.”

  Fran laughed, “That’s entertainment.”

  “Want to go for a coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  The found a place that served coffee and didn’t mind Fran skating to a table. Bobby walked to the counter and walked to the table with the coffee.

  “Thanks Bobby,” said Fran when he set the coffee in front of her. “Maybe I can buy you a five course dinner one of these days.”

  “Sure, one of these days, if you want to.”

  “Least I could do for a guy who swooped in like a super hero with a first aid kit. Most super heroes I know don’t carry a first aid kit – the best they can do is pick you up and fly you to the hospital.”

  “You’ve got a good sense of humor Fran, especially for a girl who just took a painful spill.”

  “It’s not as bad since you stop
ped pouring hydrogen peroxide on me, which,” Fran looked at Bobby and held up her hand, ”I know you did to help me, for which I’m truly appreciative. Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Ah, sure, I think.”

  “Why do you go by Bobby instead of Robert or Bob?”

  “I’ll definitely answer the question but before I do can you tell me why you asked?”

  “Okay. I have a cousin named Daniel and when he was a kid everyone called him Danny, sometimes Danny Boy. When he was 12 years old he went around at a family get together and told all the relatives that he no longer wanted to be called Danny, he was Dan now.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Yes, people started calling him Dan although I think he had to remind them once in awhile.”

  Bobby looked at Fran for a long minute before saying, “Well, I have a similar tail. At the same age I did the same thing, at my aunts wedding. It was a good place for it, everyone was there. The men, all wearing suits or tuxedos, told me, ‘sure kid, no problem,’ and forgot about it before the groom took off the bride’s garter.

  “The women said, ‘sure honey,’ patted my head, and have never called me anything but Bobby from that day to this. One great aunt pinched my cheeks and said, ‘Bobby is such a beautiful name, why would you change it?’ A few of my cousins would call me Bob and then say, ‘or is it Robert the Bruce?’ For a short time they called me ‘the Bruce’ but got tired of it and reverted to Bobby.

  “So then I had to make a decision, spend the next ten, twenty or thirty years correcting everyone who called me Bobby, or forget my quest and go with the flow, which is what I decided to do. I embraced the Bobby.”

  “Are you happy with the decision?”

  “Absolutely. It made life a lot easier. And I like the name now. Did you know there are a lot of famous Bobbies?”

  “No.”

  “Oh yes, there is Bobby Kennedy, Bobby Fisher, Bobby Thomson……”

  “Who’s that? Bobby Thomson?”

  “He was a baseball player who hit a 3 run home run against the Brooklyn Dodgers in a National League playoff game that won the 1951 pennant for the New York Giants. They called it ‘The Shot Heard ‘Round the World.’ The Giants announcer kept shouting over and over, ‘The Giants won the pennant. The Giants won the pennant.’ They still play him yelling that on the radio from time to time, usually in a medley of great sports moments.

  “Alright, Bobby Darin, actor, musician, he wrote and preformed ‘Mack the Knife’, one of the biggest selling hits ever.”

  “I know that song, it’s about…..actually I never could figure out exactly what it was about. Was Mack the knife itself or the name of the assassin who used a knife on his victims?”

  “I don’t know. I could never figure it out either.”

  “In any case it’s a catchy song but pretty grim.”

  “It is a pretty grim subject, but it was only one song of many. He wrote and sang a lot of other songs like ‘Splish Splash,’ ‘Dream Lover,’ and ‘Beyond the Sea.’ Made a lot of movies as well and preformed in all the biggest and best night clubs of his day.“

  Fran was quiet for a minute, then smiled and said, “You sure know your Bobbies.”

  “Have to. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to defend the Bobby coat of arms.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

  “Don’t worry, I actually get a kick out of it. Let me knock off a couple more Bobbies while I’m on a roll: Bobby Rydell, Bobby Burns the English poet, Bobby Hatfield, one of the Righteous Brothers and Bobby Bonds, professional baseball player, 3 time all-star and 3 time Golden Glove winner, father of Barry Bonds who holds the career record of most home runs in baseball and the unofficial record of injecting more steroids into his body then anyone in the history of the game.”

  Fran said, “Can I restock your first aid kit.”

  “Alright, my mother would love you for that.”

  “She’s a big fan of first aid kits?”

  “Huge. She gave all of her kids a first aid kit when they bought their first car. Then she’d check to see we still had them before our birthdays. If we did she’d buy us a birthday present, if not she’d buy us a new first aid kit.”

  At 8:30 pm Fran, back home for the evening, was about to call Gloria when the phone rang. Fran looked at the number but didn’t recognize it. She picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello Fran, this Randy Finch.”

  “How is it that you have my number?”

  “You gave it to me, a long time ago.”

  “When we’re through talking, please get rid of it.”

  “Of course, I will.”

  Finch sounded polite, that has to be a good sign. There was something else thought Fran. Finch had also lost his cocky ‘I’m the coolest guy in town’ tone that he used with everybody but his bosses. Rick must have put the fear of God into the bastard.

  “So what is it Finch?”

  “I just want to apologize for the little misunderstanding we’ve had over the last few months.”

  “Little misunderstanding, is that how you see it? My lawyer has another name for it – he calls it sexual harassment.

  “Could we not talk about lawyers at this point?”

  “Why not? When you go to court you need a lawyer. You’re going to need one but I doubt you’ll be able find a barracuda like mine.”

  “Maybe we won’t need to go to court.”

  “How are we going to do that? It seems unavoidable to me.”

  Finch did most of the rest of the talking. He said what he’d do. He said what he’d refrain from doing. He said he’d apologize to whoever he needed to. He said he do whatever he could to make things right.

  When he was done Fran said, “I’ll talk to my lawyer,” and hung up.

  Then she called Gloria.

  “Hi Fran.”

  “Hi Gloria, how are you?”

  “Great, what’s happening? Finch talk to you yet?”

  “I just got off the phone with him.”

  “Really? How did it go?”

  I’d say it went pretty well.”

  “Wow. So what happened?”

  “I can tell you but I had an idea. What if I tell Rick first and then he tells you? That way he’ll hear it first and hopefully I won’t miss anything.”

  “How about if I put it on speaker?”

  “Good, but I have something else to tell you first.”

  “Go for it.”

  “I went roller bladding this afternoon which was great until I fell and scrapped my shoulder and back like carrots on a grater.”

  “Ohhhh, sounds painful.”

  “It was but this guy helped me out. He had a first aid kit in his car so he cleaned the wound and bandaged it up.”

  “That’s good. So is he a nice guy, or just a good first aid responder?”

  “He acts like a nice guy. Took me out for coffee then we hung around the beach until about 6:30 when he asked if I’d like to go out to dinner. We went to the Vera Cruz Fish House and had a great dinner and then he dropped me off at my car without trying to get me to bring him home.”

  “Sounds like a nice guy.”

  “Yeah, I think he is.” Fran waited a few seconds and then said, “I wanted to ask you something but if you don’t like the idea just say so, I won’t feel bad.”

  “Okay.”

  “I was wondering if Bobby, that’s the guy’s name, and I could come out to Vegas and hang out with you guys for the weekend?”

  “That’d be fun.”

  “I think so to.”

  “Have you asked him if he wants to come?”

  “Not yet, I wanted to check with you first, but I know he’s free this weekend.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask Rick and get back to you within 30 minutes.”

  Rick thought Fran was a live wire and she’d be a lot of fun. Even if her date turned out to be a dud, Fran would proba
bly make up for it. “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  Gloria called Fran and said, “Rick’s cool with it, thinks it will be fun.”

  “Great, I’ll call Bobby and see if he can make it.”

  “If you want to stay where we are you can book the Four Queens on line. We’re in 824. Also we’re going to see The Peep Show tomorrow at eight, at the Planet Hollywood and Sunday at 9 am we’re flying by helicopter to the Grand Canyon. Both of these are booked under Rick Mills, so if you book tickets you can ask for seats next to him for the Peep Show and the same helicopter to the Grand Canyon. But don’t feel like you have to come with us, I’m just telling you what we’re doing in case you want to come.”

  “I get it. I’ll find out if Bobby can come and go from there. What are your seat numbers for the Peep Show?”

  Gloria looked them up and told her, then gave her the name of the helicopter company. “In case you want to go.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know as soon as I get a decision from Bobby. Hey put it on speaker so I can give him the scoop on Finch.”

  “Okay, Rick,” Gloria called. “Fran wants to talk to you.”

  Rick came to the phone, “Hello my beautiful fiancé.”

  “I can’t wait until we’re married so you’ll quit calling me that.”

  “Sorry, sorry. So what did Finch have to say?”

  Fran gave him the run down on her conversation with Finch.

  “It sounds good,” said Rick, “sounds like he’d like to see the whole thing go away.”

  “That was the message I got to. I told him I’d talk to my lawyer and get back to him.”

  “Maybe we could talk it over when you come out here and we could have it settled by Monday.”

  “That would be great. And thanks so much for helping me with this. What would I have done without you?”

  “I don’t know but I’m glad I could help. After all if you can’t help you fiancé, who can you help?”

  * * *

  Chapter 9