Title: Luck of the Roll
Author: waterfall
E-Mail: waterfallingbc@yahoo.com
Rating: G
Category: Gen; Jimmy/Yves friendship; Yves POV
Spoilers: passing reference to some events in the TLG series
Summary: Trying to avoid snake eyes on an evening out.
Disclaimer: The characters presented in this story are the creative property of 1013 Productions, FOX Broadcasting, and News Corp and are used without their permission.
Notes: Written for the 13th Lyric Wheel - The Wheel of Fortune.  I was given the lyrics to "Luck Be A Lady" (written by Frank Loesser) from the musical "Guys and Dolls" by Elizabeth .  Wheel rules dictate that at least one line from the set of lyrics be used within the story.     

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

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 England

and work for another team."

 

Conspiracy in the Manchester United / Real Madrid deal.  How

original.  Not that the London papers haven't pounded that

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.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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