******************
Well here we are again. Veronica's full of lead, Doil has me handcuffed to the desk, for my own protection, and the Universe is still to end. My life as Fats is full of danger. Fat's himself is lucky he is in suspended animation, memory filled with relevant facts without the nasty bits. Doil is worried. As the hombre on the ground, he has the responsibility of delivering the program, but all that happens is that their best operative keeps getting shot. Now the GIA are involved, and are not too happy that I have slipped their clutches. Being chained to the desk for my own protection is a bit of a charade too. Protecting from who? The Man is still out cold in Bellevue and his soldiers are either locked up or dead. Doil takes a phone call and says a lot of aHa's and mMm's. He replaces the receiver and says to me.
“Sorry Fats, but you can't go home. Not as Joe anyways. The big cheeses in the think tank suspect that the Fish Fry's have not been at the right venue, and want you to stick around to play other blocks.”
This is not such bad news for me as I don't have much to return to on Mars. Brian my faithful servant is making a fortune, in scrap and keeping my regular hooker in trinkets. It is much more fun here. Shootings, sex and music. Whats not to like?
Doil uncuffs me and hands me my hat, which has two bullet holes in it. In and out.
I feel suddenly cold. An inch lower and it would have been goodbye Charlie. Doil opens the door for me.
“We'll let you know.” he says.
******************
Doil hasn't let me know. I spend my time between the cat house and the Diner. Big Sal and I have become an item. She turns the occasional trick to keep her hand in, you can take the John out of the Cat but you can't take the Cat out of the Johns pocket. I meet up with the Musos in Town to talk the talk, and most of it is about who is with what band and how well they are paid. How many shows a day. And where to woodshed at night. I have only played one Fish Fry since V was shot, a private affair down the Bowery, with no incident. Non of the usual interruptions. No shootings, no Doil, and no money.
I am in the diner eating ham and eggs.
Prez, says. 'You know what's a gasser.' We all shake our heads, Prez has wisdom and we all learn from him.
'Jive talk for the law is the man you dig.' We nod our heads. 'Now that is the moniker that the big cheese down at the Stork Club hangs himself on. The Man. Makes me think he has a way into the laws pocket.' We non again. 'Or else he's from Hicksville. Now ain't that kopasetic?'
We chew this fact over. Pez is deep. I am trying to raise a band to go out to Montauk, I had a call from Elsa van de Bilt, saying she has a bash planned for the weekend and needs entertainment. I have so far Prez and his bro. The Hawk and Roy Eldridge, Slam Stewart. I am short a bone maybe a git box and an alto. I'd love to get Hodges but he's captured. Plenty of time anyhow some one will turn up by Friday. Meanwhile my eggs are stagnating.
****************
We take the train from Pen and change at Jamaica. The sun is shining and we are loaded. A couple of limo's transport us to the van de Bilt Mansion, and we are given rooms over the stables. Nice rooms with showers and hospitality. The van de Bilt's know how to treat a Negro. Alice van de Bilt gives us a visit. Her milk white skin contrasting the difference between us and them. She is nice and easy with us. The party is in her honour, an 18th birthday present from her mother. We are asked over to the big house for drinks. The boys dressed in their DJ's look the business but never the equal. The van de B's are dressed in casuals fresh from tennis in the grounds. Tom Brown passes the drinks around, and whispers to me that he has something different stashed in his quarters if we want to indulge. As muso's we are not averse to a little smoke before the set, and we make our excuses and leave the upper classes to their cocktails. Although born in Woodville Mississippi Prez settled in Kansas City where Tom Brown originates. They get into a huddle and talk about the Jim Crow Laws, and the clarinet. The afternoon is warm with a cool breeze coming off the bay. A nice day for a stroll across lawns you could play pool on. I find a bench overlooking the rollers and smoke a cheroot. A pair of manicured hands cover my eyes, soft as chamois and smelling of Chanel.
'Guess who?'
It could only be Veronica. 'Wow they patched you up quickly this time. You are out before I could visit.'
'No time to waste the end of the Universe is nigh.'
'One thing I haven't asked as yet is when exactly this event is due to happen. Next week, next year, next whenever, and if its next year who's year is it? An Illuastian week is 20,000 Earth years so a year can be a long time.'
Veronica sighs. 'Not allowed to say, but take it from me it is urgent.'
I change the subject as this one is going nowhere. 'Who do you like me best as Joe Coolz or Fats?' Either way I win I think.
'Alan Ladd'
'Alan Ladd, I've never been Alan Ladd.'
'So be him.'
***************
The gig is held in the ballroom of the house. All stucco and cherubs. Yuck. Much too schmaltzy for me. The Vande V's and their friends dig us though. With pee breaks of half an hour or so we play until dawn. The aftermath looks like a whirl wind has swept through it. Bottles upturned into coolers, shoes and underwear strewn about, and the tell tale streaks of white powder on the glass tables. We start to pack away our instruments when Mrs Van de V walk's over looking like she has just stepped out of Macey's beauty parlour.
'Don't be in such a hurry boys we would like you to stay awhile. Leave the instruments there they will be safe.'
Prez enlightens her to the fact that we don't trust no one with the horns. They are like an extension of our minds and need to be with us. Lee Young, Lester's bro, packs his cymbals into their cases and his sticks into their pouch, to emphasise his point.
'No offence Misses but I sleep with my sticks.'
She laughs. 'That must be some threesome.'
She turns away.
'I'll leave Tom to see you out.'
I am wondering what has happened to Veronica. Her sudden appearance was not a shock, she has that ability just to turn up, but always with a purpose. This time she has not shown her hand. I leave the boys with Tom, and go wandering. The ballroom is vast and at one end are floor to ceiling French Doors leading onto a marble patio with Venus de Milo copies on plinths. Leaning against one is Veronica smoking a Balkan Sobrani cigaret in a short holder.
'What kept you?'
'So what's with the Houdini act. Now you see me now you don't?'
'It's very tricky being me. So many women want to look like me. Babs The Mans broad for one. Not a bad copy, but lacking in the brains department. Or she wouldn't be with him.'
'Am I still supposed to be Alan Ladd? A bit difficult prossed up as Fats Waller.'
Gloria gives me a don't be so stupid look, and blows a plume of sweet smelling smoke into the air.
'The boys in the back room up at IGBI H.Q. Need some reference points to see how near we are, you are to play a Fish Fry on every street in NY then they can pin point where to concentrate your appearances.'
Fats's bright demeanour gets pinpricked. I as fats am not happy with this turn of events. There are over 215 streets in New York, if I play a Fish Fry a day that's a lot of fish.
'You may get lucky and hit the right note early on, so better get started. We will set up the addresses, all you have to do is turn up and play.'
'Will you get it every time?'
'Ever heard of robo copies? They are expendable.'
She gives me a peck on the cheek. 'Don't worry about me Honey, I can look after myself.'
*************
Of course I have heard of Robo copies, which is why I am back on Mars. With my scrap wealth I can afford several. Not everyone can order a Robo copy, but with my IGBI get out of Jail free card I apparently can. It's strange to see 5 Fats Wallers sitting on a bench. Only one at once will be used I don't want to flood New York with Waller Doppelgängers. I know what you are thinking. 'How will Doil and the IGBI take this?' Well the IGBI being what they are, all seeing, all knowing, all interfering, have probably given their blessing, as the transaction went smoothly, but I expect a call from them is imminent.
No comments:
Post a Comment