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Title: Luck of the Roll ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ If someone had told me that I would seriously
consider attending the latest of the Capital area's
debutante parties with Mr James "Call Me Jimmy" Bond, I
would have immediately registered with a rehabilitation clinic for being
under the influence of some illicit drug.
I received some information only yesterday and
agreed to meet a contact at this evening's party, but I would
need a partner to help deflect any unwanted attention.
I could usually depend upon Byers being bold enough to accompany
me; he is accustomed to the more formal social settings and,
being the most presentable of the three, does not look out
of place in such situations.
Unfortunately, the Gunmen had decided that they needed to join the latest media freak show,
otherwise known as the California Recall Election, and might
be out of town for an indefinite period of time.
Actor has-beens, a stripper, The Terminator, and over one hundred of
the usual suspects in the culmination of an event that could
possibly raise the respectability level of the 2000
Presidential Election, though I'd wager not by much. That left only Jimmy.
With a little direction and some dressing tips, I could make this work for the
short amount of time to meet my contact.
I needed to make this work. Jimmy, however, needed some prodding.
"Hold on there, Yves. Why are you asking me out to this thing?" "The invitation is for two."
This was not a lie. The
invitation was for two, and I had gone to a lot of
trouble to have a forgery worked up at the last minute.
"I need an escort."
"Since when?" Jimmy snorted. "You just said that you did not have anything
to do this evening." "I've seen the way you've treated other guys
you've been with. I think you know what I'm talking about." Hanging around the Three Stooges was beginning to
break down some of that sweet naivete about him.
Hmmm. Well, yes, some men have been left incapacitated, some have been
incarcerated, and more than one has ended up dead.
I do see his point. I did promise Byers that I would keep an eye on him
while the others were out of town; however, I may not be
able to honor Frohike's request to keep him out of trouble.
Upon mention of free food and open bar, I obtained
a commitment to my invitation.
Knowing that there would be nothing in his wardrobe to complement the
evening's event, arrangements were made with a reputable
establishment to dress Jimmy from head to toe.
I picked him up at the front door.
I had a few items I wanted to review on the drive
over. "Any last-minute questions?" Jimmy had pulled down the visor on the passenger
side and was checking out his bow tie in the mirror.
"You're not going to leave me there alone, are you?
Before this evening is over, you might give me the brush." "Absolutely not," I replied, feigning
shock. "We're partners in this little escapade.
Why do you need to ask?" "At times you have a very unladylike way of
running out." Jimmy noisily flipped the visor back into place as
a punctuation point to his remark. True enough. I
have, at times, left Jimmy and the others to fend for themselves after completing a job, but if
they can not keep up with me, I hardly see where this is my
problem. However, a promise is a promise, at least until
weapons are involved.
I needed to be certain that he had some small talk
prepared. "How about some sports talk with the
gentlemen? Do you follow football?"
"Well, duh.
I played football for years." "No, not your football, world football.
Soccer. I'd imagine that quite a few of the parents in the crowd have
their children in area soccer leagues." "The guys pick up some of that stuff on the
early morning satellite feed.
Frohike was working on something having to do with some big-time soccer player being forced to
leave and work for another team." Conspiracy in the Manchester United / Real Madrid
deal. How original. Not
that the story into the ground for months.
"David Beckham, you mean?" "Yeah, him.
That's the same guy who's in that movie, Bend It Like Beckham, right?
Langly says it sounds like a title to a porno film." With Langly's juvenile tendencies, he would say
something like that. "You
should probably not mention Langly's little comment in your conversations." "Well, my football preseason is starting up.
The Redskins look good on paper, but man, did they stink last
night." "Good subject, the Washington Redskins.
You won't lack for conversation there.
I'd stay away from any tabloid minutiae.
Too controversial.
Discuss your blind football league, the boys you used to coach, but don't dwell on the
unpleasant facts about its demise." "What if they ask about what I'm doing
now?" I offer not too fantastic a tale.
"Tell them that you're involved with a new publishing venture.
Don't commit to a title. Should
they ask, you let it slip that it will focus on a fresh approach to the political and social
environment inside the Beltway.
That way, you won't be lying." "But the paper isn't new." "You know it and I know it, but if you
mention the real activity behind The Lone Gunman, people will stop
talking to you. If
you play your cards right, you could get lucky and pick up some tidbits for future stories." Jimmy was beside himself with excitement.
"So I'm workin' undercover." "Yes, Jimmy, you are undercover," I
reassured him and crossed my fingers for some luck of my own. I arrive at the destination and turn the keys over
to the valet. I
want to hurry inside as the outside air is still thick with humidity, but thankfully the rainstorms
have held off for the evening. Jimmy goes first through the little security
checkpoint that is now de rigueur at most large social functions
these days and reaches out his hand to me as I am waved
through. "Let's keep the party polite." A strange remark, even for him.
I loop my arm through his as we enter the ballroom.
"Time to mingle, Jimmy."
Jimmy turns to me and winks.
"Never get out of my sight." Some of the women have spotted our arrival and are
giving my escort a thorough inspection.
"Don't worry. Use
that charm of yours to your advantage," I whisper in his
ear. "Stick with me, baby, I'm the fellow you came
in with," he nearly sings as he leads me over towards the bar. He's babbling.
Now is not the time for him to become unraveled. "What
are you talking about?" "Me and Frohike watched this really cool
movie last week." I close my eyes in resignation.
Now it all makes sense. This
is all Frohike's fault.
Jimmy's using lines from a song in Guys and Dolls to imitate Marlon Brando for the
evening - a figurehead of coolness to one Melvin Frohike. If he refers to me as a doll in public, rental or
no, a punchbowl is going to be dumped over his head. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ |