Chapter 101

I take a walk by the East river, and watch the gulls fight over some fried chicken. After an hour I've had enough of fresh air and head back to 116^th St. Saul and the madame are in deep condensation so I sit at the piano and play some blues. There is a familiar figure in the corner but it takes me while to place him, until he speaks. It's Saul's father Tom. He doesn't know me from Adam as he last met me as myself pretending to be a Limey from Liverpool. We played some hot jazz together, with him on the Licorice stick. He asks if he can sit in on it. I wave him over and we play Barrel House Blues. Saul looks over in annoyance and asks us to keep it down as can't think with all that racket. Tom gives him the finger and starts up Lime House Blues in Bb. I just play the chords until its my turn to vamp it up. By now some Johns have happened along and joined in. Soon we have a full band complete with a snare drum and washboard. Saul sees he is beaten and hands round a bottle of hooch. Now we are on our way. The Madame sees dollar signs and calls the girls down. Even though it is November, the party can't fit into the room, and takes up much of the pavement. Steam mixes with the cigar smoke as the jivers shake their moves. It can't last without the cops involvement. They try to break it up, but are outnumbered and call for reinforcements. Soon the street is blocked off by black and whites and people are hanging out of the windows to see the fun. Doil arrives with Getz and forces his way into the parlour. Getz slams the piano lid down missing my fingers by inches. Tom takes exception to this and punches Getz in the face. First blood to the whorehouse. Getz draws his gun and pistol whips Tom to the floor. Now Saul is mad, but Doil restrains him. An uneasy peace follows.
“We'll just take Fats.” says Doil, fitting the cuffs.
“Why me?” I think.
**************
“Why you? Because you can't stay out of trouble. I gave you licence to be Fats and enjoy it. But it seems that you as Fats is a combination that ignites the night.”
The room is the same. The same scarred and stained desk. The same smell of stale bodies and over brewed coffee. The same cage in the corner, with its door agape waiting for occupation. The chair I sit on is too small and my ass cheeks hang over the edges. It is uncomfortable and I want to stand. But Doil is no mood to allow it as it may be a sign of aggression, so I suffer.
“ I think you should go back to Mars until we decide what to do with you. I am thinking that the Coolz, Fats combo is what is not working. I shall report to the geeks and see if you should be relieved of your position as an IGBI agent, and get the real Fats to do it.”
I am shocked I've haven't done anything they haven't asked for. What they want is a chance moment. And chance being what it is the moment could take a thousand years. I may never see Veronica again and that would upset Brian. Every cloud etc.