I
am still prossed up as Fats. I have been left to my own devices and
take a cab uptown to 116th
St. I need food so step into the diner and bump into Big Sal. I was
hoping for this. I have missed her charm and her body. She kisses me
full and long on the lips.
“Been a long time stranger.”
Has it been a long time? It is difficult to tell with time travel. I take her word for it.
“Things to do people to see, but I'm here now and in need of eggs. Then?” The question hangs in the air. I give her my eyebrow waggle and my irresistible impish grin.
*****************
Saul Brown is also pleased to see me. The room hasn't changed much a Chinese rug on the floor and a lick of pink paint. He looks even more prosperous with a new gold tooth. He is dressed for an evening at the opera, and I swear he is wearing Chanel perfume. But there is something wrong, then I spot them. Bullet holes. They run in a gentle curve from the floor to the ceiling.
“ I see you've spotted the redesign of the wall. We had a little trouble with The Man, nobody killed but it spoilt my décor. He is due a visit from us to the Stork Club. It is inevitable. I would prefer to negotiate, but The Man likes to play rough. Looks like we'll all be drafted soon, and could be dead anyway, so what the hell” He smiles showing off his new tooth. Not to my taste, but I think Fats likes it.
“Mind if I stick around, my crib is under siege from the bailiffs”
“Always welcome Fats, so long as Big Sall here is happy with a big lunk in her crib. Now I must see the Police Chief about his kickback. Sheesh talk about greed. My wife needs a new hat, the dog needs a horse doctor. Take take take. Just for a little hands off.”
He is cut off form his rant by a banging on the door. “That will be my escort.” Sall opens the door and a uniform and a bull stand there. “ So long wish me luck.”
The madame joins us and takes my hand. “ If I was a clairvoyant I would say you were in trouble.”
“You know me easy come easy go.”
“For six years?” Now she has me. This is 1941 and my last visit was 1935 by her reckoning. Now wonder Sal looked surprised to see me. I shrug. “The States is a big country, must have been in every hick town, playing broken pianos, for what seems like years.”
“Six”
“Well I'm back now, so lets have a show, the bush telegraph will soon fill the house, once they know I'm back.”
I sit at the piano and go into Fat's routine. Within hours the Madame has a smile on her face as all the girls are busy and the money rolls in.
************
During our six years apart Big Sal has lost all her puppy fat and grown into a beauty with a full figure. The old bed has gone replaced by a king size with Irish linen sheets. Perversely most of her clients are shorter than her barely reaching her breasts, she has cornered the market in rich Jews out for a bit of whatever they are starved of. It feels good to once again snuggle into her. The sheets, fresh from the Chinese Laundry on Mott Street, crackle with starch. Boy have I missed this. The future may have its advantages, but Big Sal in clean sheets is Fats idea of heaven. She rolls into me and whispers in my ear,
“You can take your hat off.” This is not an invitation to a bareback ride but for me to remove my Derby. She takes the offending bowler and sits astride, placing it firmly on her head. I hang on for fear that I might wake up in a cage in the 5th precinct, with Doil loading shells into his police special. Am I paranoid ?
“Been a long time stranger.”
Has it been a long time? It is difficult to tell with time travel. I take her word for it.
“Things to do people to see, but I'm here now and in need of eggs. Then?” The question hangs in the air. I give her my eyebrow waggle and my irresistible impish grin.
*****************
Saul Brown is also pleased to see me. The room hasn't changed much a Chinese rug on the floor and a lick of pink paint. He looks even more prosperous with a new gold tooth. He is dressed for an evening at the opera, and I swear he is wearing Chanel perfume. But there is something wrong, then I spot them. Bullet holes. They run in a gentle curve from the floor to the ceiling.
“ I see you've spotted the redesign of the wall. We had a little trouble with The Man, nobody killed but it spoilt my décor. He is due a visit from us to the Stork Club. It is inevitable. I would prefer to negotiate, but The Man likes to play rough. Looks like we'll all be drafted soon, and could be dead anyway, so what the hell” He smiles showing off his new tooth. Not to my taste, but I think Fats likes it.
“Mind if I stick around, my crib is under siege from the bailiffs”
“Always welcome Fats, so long as Big Sall here is happy with a big lunk in her crib. Now I must see the Police Chief about his kickback. Sheesh talk about greed. My wife needs a new hat, the dog needs a horse doctor. Take take take. Just for a little hands off.”
He is cut off form his rant by a banging on the door. “That will be my escort.” Sall opens the door and a uniform and a bull stand there. “ So long wish me luck.”
The madame joins us and takes my hand. “ If I was a clairvoyant I would say you were in trouble.”
“You know me easy come easy go.”
“For six years?” Now she has me. This is 1941 and my last visit was 1935 by her reckoning. Now wonder Sal looked surprised to see me. I shrug. “The States is a big country, must have been in every hick town, playing broken pianos, for what seems like years.”
“Six”
“Well I'm back now, so lets have a show, the bush telegraph will soon fill the house, once they know I'm back.”
I sit at the piano and go into Fat's routine. Within hours the Madame has a smile on her face as all the girls are busy and the money rolls in.
************
During our six years apart Big Sal has lost all her puppy fat and grown into a beauty with a full figure. The old bed has gone replaced by a king size with Irish linen sheets. Perversely most of her clients are shorter than her barely reaching her breasts, she has cornered the market in rich Jews out for a bit of whatever they are starved of. It feels good to once again snuggle into her. The sheets, fresh from the Chinese Laundry on Mott Street, crackle with starch. Boy have I missed this. The future may have its advantages, but Big Sal in clean sheets is Fats idea of heaven. She rolls into me and whispers in my ear,
“You can take your hat off.” This is not an invitation to a bareback ride but for me to remove my Derby. She takes the offending bowler and sits astride, placing it firmly on her head. I hang on for fear that I might wake up in a cage in the 5th precinct, with Doil loading shells into his police special. Am I paranoid ?
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