I cannot believe I just gave my panties to The Geek
-Sixteen Candles
Mary held onto her fury all day, wearing her mood on her
face and in her gestures. The
daytime regulars focused conversation away from her, making sure to ask for
drinks politely and with casual deference. They tipped well, but not so well as to draw attention. They hoped she’d be back to normal
tomorrow. By late afternoon, the
evening regulars had gathered around.
John Farebrother was there, sipping an Old Style. Mike, the passionate Black Hawks fan,
sat arguing with his friend, Grant, about something inconsequential. Wally Cadwallader, who’d had an
after-work Ooh La La related errand
near The March, had stopped in for a martini. He was discussing men’s skin care with Gilbert, a computer
technician. It was a typical after
work crowd and Mary couldn’t stand the sight of a one of them.
When Caleb came into work, he headed behind the bar,
prepared to switch for the night shift.
He paused, cash drawer in hand, and took a good look at his daughter,
who was furiously polishing an already gleaming cocktail shaker. “Mary,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“Fucking FRED!” she exploded. “His fucking bookie came in today and I gave him all my
money to save Fred from getting beat up.”
All conversation around the bar stopped. All the patrons tuned into the much
more interesting conversation happening behind he bar.
Caleb set his drawer on the back bar and walked Mary to the
opposite end, away from the regulars.
Only Teddy sat there, and he wasn’t interested in their
conversation. Caleb put his hands
on Mary’s arms and looked her in the eyes in such a way that she wouldn’t be
able to look away.
“What happened,” he said, calmly. And Mary told him the story, tears pooling in her eyes.
At the end, Caleb was angry. “Why didn’t you call me,” he said. “Jesus Christ, anything could have happened You should have
called me!”
“I couldn’t,” said Mary, shaking her head “He told me not to pick up the phone.
But he wasn’t interested in me.
Only Fred.”
“Mary” said Caleb, moving to embrace her, “Mary, shit. Are you ok?. Do you know his name, I want to find
him and make sure he stays the hell away from here.”
“He will,” said Mary, bitterly. “I asked him if he was coming back and he gave me some
bullshit line about honor among bookies. But why would he want to come
here? I told Fred not to bother
coming around anymore. At least
not while I was here.”
“Still,” said Caleb.
“We need to get your money back.”
“It’s not the fucking money, Dad,” said Mary. “Well, it's not just the money. It’s the whole engaging in criminal
activity while actively planning for a career in the U.S. Attorney’s office. If
it comes out I could be screwed.” She paused and leaned into her father a little
more.
“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s not that big of a deal.
What do you think?“
“Well, baby,” said Caleb. “You never know. But if it ever does come up, I’ll tell
them it was me. We look alike.
People will buy it. How much money
was it? I’m going to give that
back to you and then let Fred owe me.”
“Dad,” she said.
“You know I don’t take money from you.”
“You’re not,” he said.
“Fred is. Besides, Mary,
I’m your father. I want to help
you. And if you can’t count on
your Dad to pay off your bookie, what in the hell is the world coming to?”
Mary laughed out loud and felt better. Caleb tightened his arms around her,
and Mary relaxed into the hug, accepting the embrace, the offer and the
comfort.
The bar regulars strained their ears from the cool side of
the bar trying to figure out what was going on. It sounded very exciting! Bookies and the boss’s son!
“That Fred,” said Wally Cadwallader. “He is as shameless as his father.”
“Mr. Bulstrode,” said Farebrother, sarcastically feigning
shock. “Why he is a captain of
industry! A fine, upstanding member of society! A godly man!”
“Whatever,” said Mike.
“Mary could do better than that rich shit anyway.”
“Fred’s not a bad guy,” said Farebrother. “But, you’re
right, Mary could probably do better.”
“I wonder how much money he was into the bookie for,” said
Gilbert. “I bet it was a lot.”
“Seems pretty shitty for some rich boy like Fred Bulstrode
to be taking money from a hard working girl like Mary,” said Mike.
“Oh, he’s not that bad,” said Wally. “He’s just careless. I think the boy
has a good heart. I regret my earlier harshness.”
A fevered debate broke out regarding the general character
of Fred Bulstrode. Everyone had an
opinion that they were eager to share.
Their argument grew louder and more heated until Caleb walked toward
them, at which point a rather guilty silence descended.
“Can it, you guys,” said Caleb. “It’s not your business. Another gin martini, Wally?”
“Please,” he said. “Only, Caleb, the proper term for a gin
martini is martini. It’s a vodka martini that gets the
qualifier. Honestly, what is
happening with the world? ‘Gin
martini’ indeed. How’s Mary?
Shall I go give her a shoulder to cry
on?”
“Leave her be,” said Caleb. “She likes it better that way.”
“Caleb, can you put on the Bulls game,” said
Farebrother. “And get me another
Old Style.”
“We’re watching hockey!” objected Mike loudly.
“Mike,” said Farebrother. “The goddamn hockey game doesn’t start for an hour. Do you mind if we just check in with
the best basketball team in America for a bit before we watch the Hawks lose?”
“Basketball is a stupid game,” said Mike.
Caleb headed off to fetch the Old Style, grateful for the
shift in conversation. But he knew it wouldn’t last. The Mary and Fred gossip would prevail until the next
scandal broke. He just hoped it
would break soon.
