HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout (30 page)

“Is that all you, Ed? Yer even bigger than
Sitko.”

.

“What happened to meeting your grandfather?”
asked December, as Sitko Bladich tied a line around one of four
pilings that stood erect, protruding from open water, where once
there had been docks and fishing boats. He offered his enormous
hand to December, who tentatively stood, putting her small hand in
his and stepping from the rowboat, onto the lowest of the four
pilings.

“My grandfather drove these piles,” said
Sitko. “And my father fished from these docks.”

“Dere’s no docks.” She sat as Sitko climbed
to the top piling, smiled to December, and dove into the water,
joining his six friends, who were swimming on their backs, circling
the pilings.

“They’re all around us,” yelled Sitko.
“Dance, Baby! Make ‘em see you on every boat.”

December stood a top the two tallest
pilings, like giant go-go boots, and slowly moved her teenaged body
in the moonlight, as Sitko and his friends swam on their backs,
circling the pilings.

“Sit-KO’s girl!” the friends chanted from
the water.

.

“Hello?” said Larry.

“Hey, Bix. You sound down,” said Lori. “You
okay?”

Larry looked out onto the wide panoramic
view of Las Vegas, aglow in neon. “I’m okay.”

“Look, hey, just wanted you to know that I
re-upped and they even gave me a promise that they’d either drop me
back in as an E6 or send me to officer school,” said Lori. “Officer
school. Get that. And if I make the London team, they’d allow me to
compete before reporting.”

“Wow,” said Larry, without enthusiasm. “That
sounds like everything you wanted.”

“It is, Larry.”

“Then you’re lucky. Guess we both are.”

“I just wanted you to know. I haven’t even
told my folks. You’re the first one. My best friend.”

“What about December?” asked Larry.

In the distance, Carole and December were
giggling. “My God, Ed, you
are
bigger than Sitko.”

“She’s a nice girl,” said Lori. “She’ll be
fine.”

“Did she tell you about Sitko?”

“How do you know about Sitko?” asked
Lori.

“She just... mentioned him,” said Larry,
looking down the strip of lights. Tears began to fall from each
eye.

“Bastard beat the hell out of her.”

“Me and Ed met him,” said Larry.

“You
met
him? Where the hell’d you
meet him? Was she with him?”

“No,” said Larry. “She was trying to get
away from him. I threw a soda can in his face.”

Lori laughed. “That great arm of yours,
Bixie.”

“Two, actually.”

“But where?”

“Oh, just some club. It’s kind of a blur
now.”

“And December was with you and Ed... at some
club,” said Lori. “And you guys didn’t call me?”

“Actually, it was just me and Ed, but
December was there,” said Larry. “Just a coincidence.”

“Okay, whatever,” said Lori, “she’s a big
girl.”

The giggling continued in the distance.

“I guess so, huh?” said Larry. “I’ll miss
you, in the army.”

“Could be worse,” said Lori, chuckling. “We
could be at war.”

There was silence on both ends of the
line.

“Joke,” said Lori.

“I know,” said Larry, freely and silently
weeping.

“Hey...,” said Lori, “hey, it’s okay. The
President’s winding the whole thing down. Iraq’s over and
Afghanistan’s almost done. It’s not my time, yet, Bix. Still got
plenty to do. But this’ll keep me on track. Bank some money. Get
back among the gainfully employed. And this is what I’m good at.
It’s okay, Bix.”

“I know,” said Larry, squeaking as one who
tries to hide tears does.

“Don’t tell December, okay?” said Lori.
“I’ll tell her when I see her, okay? Larry?”

Larry’s eyes were open, but the lights of
Las Vegas were a watery blur. “Okay.”

“Thanks, buddy. I love you, man.”

“I love you, too, Lori.”

Larry sat after hanging up and looked out on
the lights.

Carole put her hand on Larry’s shoulder, and
he looked up in surprise.

“Food’s here, Hun.”

December and Ed were scooping from platters,
pouring from pitchers and picking at their plates when Carole and
Larry entered the dining room.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” asked December,
biting into a slice of garlic toast.

Larry sat and looked onto the table, filled
with trays, platters, plates and carafes. “Everything’s fine. Lori
says you’re a big girl.”

“And Ed here is a big boy,” said December,
pouring champagne into a flute. “Champagne?”

“Where’s Ralphie?” asked Larry.

“Some old joint off the strip,” said Ed.
“Said to call whenever.”

.

Larry and Ralphie sat in the long line of
nickel slots on the main floor of the Ponderosa, a club long past
its heyday and now host to seniors seeking cheap rooms and cheap
slots.

“Wanna do the dollar slots?” said Larry.
“I’ll front’cha.”

“Naw, I only do baby slots,” said Ralphie,
holding a coffee tin with several inches of coins. “Little
ventured, little lost, in the place where they plan on you losing.
They can have a few nickels. I’ll keep the dollars.”

A server, whose name badge was engraved
“Greg” but had Joey written in grease pen, approached. “Drinks,
gentlemen?” he said, lacking enthusiasm.

“Diet Coke,” said Larry.

“Gimme a club soda,” said Ralphie.

“Big spenders,” said Greg/Joey, walking
off.

“So why ain’t’chu with the hot women and
your friend?” asked Ralphie.

“I... kind’a just... didn’t feel like
partying.”

“Can get’ya inta’ trouble, that’s fer sure,”
said Ralphie.

“No,” said Larry. “Wasn’t even that.”
Greg/Joey delivered the sodas and Larry handed him a hundred.

“You honestly don’t have anything smaller?”
asked the server.

Larry looked to the server and then to
Ralphie. “Actually, no, I’m sorry, I don’t.” The server walked off
without a word.

“You must be new to the ‘having money’
thing?” said Ralphie.

‘‘W’ull, my family has it, but, not me, so,
yeh, I guess so.”

“Not a crime,” said Ralphie. “If yer a good
person, it won’t change you. It just depends on what’s inside.”

The server returned with the two soft drinks
and $92 in change. Larry gave a $7 tip. “Thanks,’ said
Greg/Joey.

Ralphie’s slot rang, and a 50-to-l hit paid
off two-and-a-half bucks, which Ralphie dutifully scooped into his
coffee can, “Well, that’s a mile I don’t have to drive.”

.

“You didn’t have to come down here with me,”
said Larry, as he and Carole rode the elevator. When the doors
opened, a sign reading “Pool,” pointed to the left.

“I like to swim,” said Carole, in an
all-black one-piece.

“I can’t believe there’s so many people,”
said Larry, as a crowd of 20-somethings stood near the pool bar,
some obviously staggering.

They’re not here to swim,” said Carole.
“They’re here because they look good.”

Larry dropped his shirt onto a lounger and
slipped out of the house slippers provided in the suite. “I’m going
to swim.”

“See ya in the water,” said Carole, laying
her towel on the lounger next to Larry’s and setting her bag
underneath. “I’m going to check what they have over there,
though….”

Larry swam for nearly an hour. When he
stepped out, Carole was gone. He dried himself off, slipped into
the house slippers, put on his shirt, and headed back to the
Emperor’s suite.

Opening the main doors, Larry heard silence.
“Hello?” said Larry.

Carole, in a robe, entered the foyer of the
suite. “Everyone’s asleep. It’s just you and me. I was going to
take a bath. Wanna join me?” Carole walked to Larry, and gently
guided one hand to the belt on her robe. As he held the terry
fabric belt, she slowly backed up, the loose knot holding the robe
together untying. The bathrobe fell open, showing Carol’s
nakedness.

“Oh, um...,” said Larry.

Carole drew close again and grasped each of
his hands, placing them onto her hips. “C’mon, Larry,” she said
softly. “It’s okay.” She backed slowly towards the open door of the
master bath, the sound of water rumbling from within.
“C’mon....”

Larry was pulled magnetically, stumblingly
forward.

Once inside the master bath, Carole dropped
her robe, showing a body still firm and gravity-defying. She
stepped closer to Larry and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and helped
him to pull it off, leaving him in just his trunks, “You can wear
those, but it
is
a bathtub...” She pulled the drawstring and
unfastened the Velcro. The still-wet trunks slid down mid-thigh
before bunching at the knees.

“Oh my God,” said Carole. “Larry….”

“It doesn’t work,” said Larry. “Never
has.”

Carole dropped to her knees and got within
inches of Larry’s enormous, flaccid penis. She stared at it
silently, wide-eyed. Suddenly, she stood up quickly and grabbed his
hand. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s get in.” She guided Larry up the
steps leading to the over-sized jacuzzi bathtub and climbed in
first, putting her momentarily again at eye level with Larry’s
penis. “My God.”

Larry slipped in to the bath, everything
below his chest disappearing below the churning, roiling water. “It
doesn’t.”

“Baby, we’re gonna
make
it work,”
said Carole, laughing nervously. She slid, close to Larry and
placed one hand on his thigh. “May I?”

Larry said nothing.

Carole’s hand wrapped around Larry’s limp
member. She began talking in short, panting breaths and making soft
moaning sounds, while her fingers explored Larry’s vast
flaccidness. “You’re bigger than most of the men I’ve had, hard.”
She kept her grip as they spoke.

“W’ull, like I say... doesn’t work,” said
Larry, sitting stiffly in the tub. “Never has.”

“Never?” said Carole. “As in,
never
?”

“Never has.”

Carole’s hand tightened its grip and then
began rhythmically squeezing and releasing. “So, does that mean…
you’re a.... Oh, Larry.”

“Well, uh, maybe… kind of, but…”

“Oh, Larry,” shivered Carole, suddenly
swinging her leg over his, so she straddled him, her hands on
either side of his arms, her face inches from his. “Can I kiss you,
Larry?”

A voice came from the doorway. Larry looked
up to the mirrors surrounding the bathtub to see December, wearing
a long tee-shirt, coming in to the bathroom. “Don’t mind me,
sweeties. Just gotta pee.”

Larry’s face began to flush. Carole’s
breasts floated in the water and rubbed across his chest. The flush
roared through the room, followed by December washing her
hands.

“No,” said Larry. “I don’t want this.”

“December!” yelled Carole, when December
turned to exit. Carole flipped off the jets and climbed off of
Larry. “He’s bigger then Ed!”

“No, stop!” cried Larry.

“Oh my God,” said December, standing over
the bathtub. “You got something to show, hunny.” December turned.
“Goodnight.”

Part Four – Chapter Nineteen

Spreading Capital with a Smile

“Welcome to Bucksters,” said the barista.
“What can I get started for you?”

“Hi,” said Larry van der Bix, smiling. “Sure
is a nice day out.” Larry stood still, smiling,

“Uh, sure is,” said the clerk. “What can I
get started for you?”

“Bright. Sunny,” said Larry, holding his
smile and placing his hand on the counter, leaning slightly
forward. “… Yeh….”

“Okay, Mister, you’re kind’a creeping me
out,” said the clerk. “Can I get something started....”

“Um,” said Larry, straightening. “Large
coffee.” Larry’s phone rang and he pulled it out and read “DNA 6”
on the screen. “Pardon me,” smiled Larry, “have to take a call.
Could be important.”

“Two dollars forty cents, Mister.”

“Um, I mean, hello, this is Larry.”

“Two forty, Mister….”

A tall redhead wearing a tie under his apron
approached the register. “Is there a problem?” he asked the
clerk.

“Just trying to get this creepy guy to pay
for his coffee.”

The redhead looked closely at Larry, who
held the phone to his ear, but said nothing. “I know you from
somewhere,” he said.

Larry raised an index finger and pivoted his
arm such that the motion might remind someone old of John Wayne.
“Ya’ know,” said Larry, again holding a smile, “actually, I’ve
stopped taking caffeine. I forgot. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” Larry
turned and quickly walked to the front door.

“It’s the Cheetos Man,” yelled a voice from
behind him. “Run away, coward!”

Larry ran the distance to the Lincoln,
climbed in quickly and looked at his phone, which still read DNA 6.
“Um, hey, hold on, please….” He tapped on the smoked glass.
“Ralphie, head to Lori’s. Skipping the coffee.”

Ralphie pulled into the Second Street
traffic, moving through the heavily congested retail strip.

“Sorry,” said Larry, into the phone. “Who
are you?”

“My name’s Dave,” said the voice on
speakerphone. “Someone said I should talk to you about a donation.
I have no idea who you are, but I’ll take your money. I give away
fixed-up bikes — and some new ones — to kids in Long Beach
90805.”

“I’m heading to 90805,” said Larry. “My
friend lives by Jordan high.”

“Isn’t that something,” said Dave. “My bike
program is in Houghton Park. I’m here. Why don’t you stop by?”

“You are
in
the park?”

“Just look for the building with all the
bikes in front.”

.

“You don’t look 75,” said Larry, to the man
in spandex cycling shorts and a tee-shirt emblazoned with
Peacebuilders 90805 across the chest. The two stood alone in the
bikeshop, where rims hung from hooks, frames rested against one
another along walls and tires of various sizes overflowed from
handmade cubby cabinets along one wall.