Family Practice by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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CHAPTER 10
The next morning Mark and Allison woke up cheek to cheek in each other’s arms. Dawn had not yet arrived and the television was providing the only light in the room. The PBS international morning news show indicated that a number of Western European nations had issued an official condemnation of the U.S.
procedures in Viet Nam and were planning to petition the United Nations to do an independent study. When they turned to the news on the commercial channels, they merely heard that the prior day’s death count was 17,654 Viet Cong and “only” 227
Americans. In another story the Pentagon has requested the tapes of last night’s “Simon Grassley Show” to determine if any treasonous activity took place. PBS is putting future
“Grassley” shows on hold until the matter is cleared up.
Allison extricated herself from Mark’s arms, got up and shut the television, as the day’s first glimmer of light streamed through the open window allowing Mark a full view of his love. As he remained on the couch, she looked right at him, hands on hips and coyly said; “What do you want for breakfast, baby?”
He eyed her blond hair and replied; “You know.”
She walked to him and lovingly ran her fingers through his hair as he took his sweet time. When he was finally through and
covered with the morning dew, she took him by the hand and said;
“You still are a morning man, aren’t you? Can’t let you walk around like that,” and sweetly returned the favor.
Across the river, in Manhattan, two men on the make were having their second meeting. This one was taking place in an upscale bar, the participants taking advantage of the fact that most drunkards hold out at least until noon, before showing their propensities to the public. Consequently, the two, the bartender and the floor sweeper had the place to themselves.
Benito Vespucci was an early riser. After a quiet restful night, the 40 year old 6’0”, 200 pound, olive skinned Italian was very ready for business. His well-oiled, black, wavy hair was combed straight back from his tiny forehead and did not intrude on his well-cut black pinstriped Brooks Brothers suit.
He appeared sharp and formidable, as he wanted to appear. He sat at the bar nursing drinks with “Jimmy” Park. The Viet Namese born, US citizen, now residing in downtown Manhattan couldn’t be any more different. His 5’4”, 120 pound frame was encased in an ill-fitting red and white short sleeved shirt and starched black chino pants. His medium length, overly straight, dry, black hair looked as if it had barely survived the wind tunnel, some hanging on his broad yellow-brown forehead. His dark eyes topped an impassive face, as they blankly stared,
showing no emotion. What the few who knew him had in common was the belief that Jimmy wasn’t someone to be fucked around with.
The first 21 years of his life were spent in a desperately poor part of northern Viet Nam, replete with people who swallow rocks to alleviate the hunger pangs, women producing babies for sale to the highest bidder, the governance of whatever armed troops happened to be there at the moment, the worship of ANYTHING that produces money, a derided religion that emphasizes tolerance and the inconsequential nature of material things and perhaps, most likely, because, rumor had it, that he was very well connected.
He took the name “Jimmy” over his birth’s Nguyen, partially because it was easier to pronounce and partially because of his respect for the American attitude toward material life, evidenced by the two largest religions being the largest landholders in the country.
After they went through the customary greetings handled smilingly and effervescently by Benito and quietly and seemingly shyly by Jimmy, the latter got right to the point and said;
“Tell me why you requested another meeting so quickly.” He looked up at the bar clock and added; “I have other places to be.”
Benito said; “I appreciate your time and I’d like to start on a more pleasant note, before I tell you how we can both line our pockets.” He put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, which
initially was responded to by backing away with glaring eyes and then acquiesced to as Benito said; “Let’s take a table, away from big ears.”
Jimmy followed Benito to one with a window on Fifth Avenue, the farthest from the bar and the two sat. Jimmy said; “You don’t have to worry about my pockets.”
“I’m not worried about your pockets. But, everyone wants more, don’t they?”
Jimmy shrugged, aware of the truth of that statement, but said; “If you understood finance, you’d know that there’s a risk reward trade off. Right now I’ve got almost no risk.”
“How’s that?”
Jimmy again showed some discomfort before replying, but chose to get to the point, saying; “Callie’s got protection from the feds, the local police and the mob. What do you got?”
This time Benito pondered the reply. He could lie, but Jimmy probably had ways of finding out and that would kill any chance of doing business. So he said; “Assuming that the girls are compliant and no problem, I’ll give you 20% more per head and a bigger cut on the show. You’re probably getting 10% now.
I’ll make it twenty.”
Jimmy got a bit defensive and said; “The girls are more than compliant. They’re raised to do this. They consider it an
honorable profession. But, I still like things just the way they are.”
“You wouldn’t be here talking to me if that was 100% true.
What if Callie was put out of the picture?”
Jimmy looked askance and said; “You’re going to kill him?”
“No, but what if he was put away for a long time?”
“You got something on him?”
“Maybe.”
Jimmy wondered if Benito was just talking, but decided to pursue the “what if’s” a while more. If they didn’t prove true, five minutes wasted and if they did, he could start preparing for a plan B. He thought it very probable that the Feds liked their cut immensely and most likely would transfer their protection to a new operator and could override the locals if anything went wrong. Probably! He said; “Remember we’re just talking about possibilities, but you have to consider my position. If Callie is out of the picture, my risk goes up and I deserve to be compensated for it. I’d want 35% more per girl and 35% of the show.”
Benito did some quick math in his head and wasn’t thrilled with the result. He said; “How about 40% more per girl, but the show is my business?”
“I’m not giving up the show. I like that steady cash flow.”
“Your numbers don’t leave a lot of leeway for me. Maybe, if....”
Jimmy cut him off; “’Maybe if’ is the right phase. The first ‘maybe if’ is if Callie is out of the picture. He’s not yet and may never be.” He stood up from the chair and said;
“There’s no point in discussing this any further now. You have my word that if something happens to Callie, you’ll be the first person I talk to. In the meantime, the best thing you could do is get friendly with the Feds.” He extended his right hand and Benito shook it. Jimmy walked out the door and soon disappeared in a Fifth Avenue now crowded by people on their way to work.
Benito sat there a few minutes, nursing his early morning scotch and water and thought about his options. If the plan already set in place didn’t work, no money lost. If it did, no money lost, again. Callie was making it easy for him, by allowing his desire for underage girls to put himself in jeopardy. If Connie was successful in getting the photos he could reward her for being a good slave and if she didn’t, he could punish her for being a bad one. Same action, either way. It was a bonanza to know sexually obsessed people. So, perversely, the only way he could lose was if Connie accomplished her task and then he made a bad deal with Jimmy. He realized that he already had some practice at doing that when the bartender presented him with the tab.
Mark and Allison had a soft un-businesslike morning playing records and listening to new songs on the radio. They were both big fans of Van Morrison and today were in the mood to play his
“Moondance” album over and over.
There wasn’t much need for conversation, as they knew each other so well that everything essential was already out in the open and could not compete with what they heard on the stereo system, anyway. The most memorable sounds they made in the morning were their giggles, when they accidentally bumped into each other, dancing in the small kitchen.
At 11AM Mark said; “I’m sorry to say this, but I really should check in at my office for a while today.”
She knew that was true, but wistfully said; “Why do we have to work?”
“Silly girl. Of course it’s so that the government can collect taxes and distribute it to their friends and call it the war effort.”
“I know that part. But, I mean us in particular. We should be a prince and a princess.”
“You are a princess.” He kissed her forehead and went into the bathroom to dress, returning quickly in his faded blue jeans, yellow Donovan T-shirt and a pale blue kerchief tied around his head. She smiled and waved two fingers at him and he
returned the gesture as he went for the door. He stopped to say; “What are you going to do all day?”
“I don't know. I might just stay here or maybe I’ll walk to the book store.” As he left she thought how nice it would be to stay here forever, as all the bad things happen out there.
She didn’t know he was having the same thoughts.
Mark walked through the early summer morning streets seeing the beginning of the day’s activities. Some people were on their way to work, some out to get their shopping done before the heat set in and some stood on lines, waiting for buses to New York City, the shore and points unknown. He was doing little other than watching out for possible unsavory things on the sidewalk, as his mind was with Allison. He wondered what things would be like now if he hadn’t been such a jerk in the past, particularly his seeming inability to keep his appetite under control. He knew this was the “Anything goes,” “If it feels good, do it” time of ultimate liberation, but, at least for the moment, he wished it was still the 50’s, thinking that the probable minimum of temptations would have allowed the two of them to have already settled into a calm, happy life. He never felt quite as well as he did with her and only her. He probably hurt himself more, when he made her unhappy. They were inseparable in the sense that he couldn’t do anything for her without simultaneously doing something for himself. He also
couldn’t hurt her without hurting himself. Maybe they were two parts of the same thing blown apart and destined to again become one. Someday.
His office door was open and Vicky must have heard him coming, as when he entered, she was leaning against her desk wearing tight short shorts and a tube top, when two tubes were necessary. When he saw her he smiled and said a simple, “Hi.”
Her voice went up a few octaves from its usual level and she said; “‘Hi’? Don’t you like what you see?” as she pretended to be adjusting her top.
Mark felt the old feeling, but also thought of Allison and said; “You look absolutely delectable, but an old girlfriend of mine moved back in.”
She laughed; “So, you worn out already?”
He said; “No, it’s not that,” putting his hand where it proved his attraction to her and then adding; “This one does something to me.”
Vicky fixed her top and sat in her chair, softly saying;
“This the special one?”
Mark made a little smile and simply said; “Yeah.” He moved toward his office, but was compelled to add; “No offense, you’re fantastic.”
She said; “None taken. I’ll see you again after you fuck it up.”
He knew how true that was and sat at his desk, eyeballing the ceiling, with nothing to do.”
Candy was also an early riser today, having made a date to meet her girlfriend, Nancy, at the pizzeria. She needed to talk to someone she considered sane and hoped that the early hour minimized the possibility of being followed by the creep.
When she got there, Nancy was already sitting in a booth holding a cup of coffee. Candy ordered one and joined her.
“Nancy, thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“No problem,” responded the short fifteen year-old, who wore a simple light pink blouse and a light brown “poodle skirt.” They were quite the odd-couple, Candy ensconced in her uniform tight pink “PEACE” T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Her long straight blond hair set off Nancy’s much shorter and stiffer red.
The counterman brought over Candy’s cup. She said “Thanks”
and turned to her friend, intending to start off lightly. She said; “So, what have you been doing with yourself?”
Nancy said; “Not much. I’ve been down the shore with my folks a few times...... Been doing some reading and watching my baby brother.”
“How old is he now?”
“Six. Old enough to get into everything and young enough not to clean up after himself...... Boys can be difficult. I always had to put back things where I got them.”
Candy thought she heard an entrée into her favorite topic and excitedly said; “Tell me about it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You know this guy I’ve told you about....”
“Mr. California?”
“Yeah, you know what he wanted me to do?”
“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
Unfazed, Candy said; “He wanted me to have sex with him while some creep was watching us.”
“Get out of here.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not. The whole thing freaked me out and then he got the nerve to get mad about it.”
“Nancy’s eyebrows rose; “I don't want to do an I told you so, but.....”
“But, sometimes he’s so sweet.”
“When your clothes are off?”
Candy didn’t have a response, so Nancy added; “And he’s still married?”
Candy dejectedly said; “Yeah.”
“Divorce proceeding started?”
“No, there are business complications.”
“You know, I hate to say this, but it sounds like the old story my mother warned me about. These guys will say anything before they get what they want and then the promises are forgotten.”
“I’m starting to agree with you. But, I never got these warnings from my mother. She just wants everybody to be what they feel like being. My damn sister, too. Are we the ones out of step?”
“That’s a good question. It seems like now, yes.”
“You believe all the stories you hear?”
“No, but I suppose some of them are true.”
Candy said; “How about the one about Donna Ferguson? Five guys took her to some ranch in Hunterdon County and after they all played, they watched her get equestrian training with two stallions. Then they played again.”
“She does have a gigantic mouth.”
“Seriously.”
Nancy said; “Seriously you know I’m not interested in that sort of thing. I’d like to be with someone, but it’s got to be someone I care about and who cares about me. I’m old fashioned; sex isn’t the only thing.”
“With me either, at least it didn’t start that way. I’d like to kick Callie right in his big ass. He doesn’t call me very often anymore and when he does, it’s for.... you know.”
“Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you’ll find someone closer to your age.”
“Are they any different?”
“There must be some.”
“Know any?”
Nancy laughed and said; “No.”
“Maybe I’ll become a nun.”
“Well, I tell you one thing. If Callie shows up with some friends and wants to take you to a horse farm, run like hell.”
Candy laughingly said; “Or become Catherine the Great.”
Nancy deadpanned; “Yeah, just double check the ropes.”
Candy said; “Hey, Nancy. Do you mind if I spend the day with you. Maybe the two of us can control your baby brother. I really don’t want to go home and see the freak show.”
Connie and Warren were having a leisurely late morning as she sat on a chair reading a magazine and he was in his favorite place. She said; “I’ve got a surprise for you today, baby.”
He didn’t look up from his low perch and she added; “I’ve made a contact with two swinging couples and they’re coming over here in about half an hour.”
Sensing that the session might end quickly, Warren focused his attention on the prime location and mumbled; “What are they like?”
She put down the magazine and watched him do his thing, saying; “They’re supposed to be very nice. A black couple and a white couple. Tend to be dominant. You can be with the two women and you can watch me with the two guys.”
They massaged each other until the doorbell rang. They both were there to open it and two grinning couples looked down at them and stepped in.
Connie did as she was told by the two men and Warren did likewise with the two women. They were ecstatic, seeming to have a slight preference for the dark morsels. They watched each other savoring the goodies presented. The sight was enough to prompt each other on to new lows.
Shari took a brief look through the keyhole and was aroused when she saw her parents begging for more. She took a walk outside, looking for some guys, while Connie and Warren spent the rest of the day paying passionate homage. When the dominant foursome had their fill, they commanded Connie and Warren to service the other’s body, while they watched and verbally urged them on with derisive observations.
Before they left Connie and Warren begged for more and arrangements were made for future meetings. When they were
again alone, Connie asked Warren; “Why makes you get off on this stuff?”
He shrugged his leg heavy shoulders, looked up, smiled and said; “I don't know. I can’t explain it. Maybe my mother didn’t cuddle me enough, if you believe in that kind of shit.”
He went back to work. She said; “Stupid question. Why? Why anything? Do your own thing, baby. I love it.
Mark walked back home wanting to see Allison. When he got there, the apartment was empty and he panicked. He hadn’t been gone all that long, but there was no sign of her. He looked around for some evidence that she intended to come back and then she walked through the door.
With wide desperate eyes he said; “Where have you been?”
She smiled, seeing his state of mind and answered; “I went to the bookstore, as I said I might. Look what I got.” She put her bag down on the kitchen counter and pulled out a soft covered book titled; “Funkytowns, USA.” She said, “Let’s take a look at this. Maybe it’s time to get out of this decaying hell hole.
Mark put his arms around her waist and held her closely, cheek to cheek, his mind having gone from desperation to exhilaration in the space of ten seconds.