Outlaw - Part Five

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

I stepped inside Marv’s little after noon. The place was as deserted as ever. The first booth on the left from the entrance hosted Frankie and Steve, two old timers who used to have lunch every day in here, except on Sundays. They smoked tobacco rolled up in newspaper sheets and it smelled awful enough to have them banned in any other decent joint. Marv wasn’t the discriminating type though; their money was as good as anybody’s.

Three places after Frankie and Steve’s was my favorite booth. It was the perfect place to sit in during the summer, when the tree outside the window would offer a nice, cooling shade. It was also the perfect booth during the winter, located close to the fireplace, but not close enough to make you sweat. Also, looking out the window, I usually had a perfect view of the hotdog stand right across the street. Arnie and I had our signal; I would simply raise my hand and he’d have a dog ready for me: one finger for ketchup only, two fingers for ketchup and mustard. I never had only mustard.

Today though, an old woman was sitting in my booth. A bunch of cards were laid out on the table in front of her. Was she reading her future or just playing Solitaire? I understood little of both and I wouldn’t intrude. No, today I would settle for a seat at the bar. Marv was washing some glasses behind the counter when I hopped on one of the bar stools and asked him how it was going.

“You know, goin…” He kept his eyes down, as if the task at hand was requiring his utmost concentration. But then again, Marv had always been a grumpy old tomcat. “What can I do you for, Ulysses?”

I asked for a burger and a beer. Sure, I had been planning to clean up my act and quit the booze, but the meat wasn’t going to wash itself down and water lead to rust.

“Comin right up”.

He disappeared into a room behind the bar and came back some minutes later with a burger on a plate and a draft of cold beer. I had just put out another cigarette; its smoke rose up in circles and spirals and I watched it for a few seconds, fascinated.

“Here, this one’s on me” he said and I could feel awkwardness creeping up into his voice. I could explain this one too; the man just wasn’t too big on doing favors. I looked at him through the fading smoke and asked him if business was doing better.

“What, a man gotta win the goddam lottery to do something nice for a feller?” he said. He threw me a quick glance over the black rims of his spectacles before returning to his dirty glasses. “But… yeah, business is somewhat better. And… today’s my birthday.”

I swallowed a bite without chewing and leaned over the bar to tap him on the shoulder. I congratulated him and told him his age was starting to show; I could see some liver spots on his bald head.

“Bite me, Ulysses” he said, throwing me another quick look over the frames. I told him I didn’t go down that way and he chuckled. I asked him if age made a leopard change its spots. There was a pause.

“As a matter o’ fact, I guess it kinda does” And there it was, that awkwardness in his voice. Or maybe it was shame this time. “The bar’s startin to be too much for me to handle. I had to… branch out a lil’ bit. A silent partner.”

I considered it for a few moments, chewing with care and choosing my words more so. I told him that sometimes, circumstances asked of us to get in bed with the Devil.

“I know. I’m afraid that’s what I’m about to do and I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

I asked him if he had ever considered giving up the place. He stopped fiddling around the sink, wiped his hands on a dirty cloth and pushed the spectacles up his nose with one finger. His face was still but his blue eyes seemed to burn inside their orbits. I could see white strands of hair in his grey beard; way more than I thought he actually had. I had known him for a long time; he wasn’t that old but he looked well over sixty. He looked me dead in the eye.

“This is all I got, sonny. The only way I’m leaving this place is if they carry my body out on a stretcher.”

He had guts. Marv was an old timer and people like him had a stubborn way of doing things.

I finished the rest of my hamburger in silence and then asked for another beer. We exchanged a few words and I was careful not to touch the subject again. He played along.

Rain drops started knocking on the windows while I was finishing my beer; they came down hard at first, then harder still. I dropped a nasty swearing – it was almost time to meet Maria. My car had been in the shop for the past two weeks and I’d had no money to get it out. I had been doing a lot of walking, since cabs were an expensive service in The City and the public transportation was a disgrace. The plan was to sort out Serena’s mess, get paid, and go back behind the wheel of my beloved Birdie.

“What’s the matter?” Marv asked. He had finished washing his glasses and was now scribbling in a notebook. Probably doing the inventory. I told him about the meeting I had and the means of transportation I didn’t have.

“Listen, how bout I call you a cab. I know a guy who’ll help you on your errand – I’ll put in a good word and you can pay him when you get your finances sorted out. It’s better you get this case done asap, get yourself a nice paycheck before bills start piling up. Take it from me, your old man Marv knows what he’s talking about.” I thought I felt a touch of nostalgia and regret in his voice.

I opened my mouth to complain and realized he was right. I needed the help. The words rearranged themselves and rolled off my tongue: I told him to go ahead and do it while I was hitting the head.

The car was parked out front and honking by the time I got back. Boy, was I lucky. Walking around on this weather was tricky business. I went to shake Marv’s hand but he took a step back, blabbing about germs and stuff. I wished him a happy birthday once more and turned around to leave. The old lady occupying my booth was dealing another hand, focusing on the rain outside and not seeing that she was throwing the cards off the table. Steve and Frankie were cracking up at their table; I passed them on my way out and overheard Frankie asking:

“Ok, ok, how bout this one? Why did the chicken cross the road twice?”

The door slammed shut behind me and I couldn’t hear the answer, only Steve’s roaring laughter. I got into my cab and gave my chauffeur Maria’s address. It was time to get to work.