SUMMATION (7 page)

           Marco looked at him suspiciously. Frankie wasn't
known as a tipper. "What, you win the lottery or something?"

           "Somethin' like that, I guess you could
say..." Caution flared up suddenly, popping out of some long forgotten
corner of his brain. "No, no. Nothing special. Just feeling good today. Skipped
out of work this afternoon. Too nice to spend it there."

           "Or here," the bartender mumbled, not
letting Frankie hear him.

           Marco scooped up the bills, casting a wary eye
at Frankie. "You didn't do anything stupid, did you? Rob a bank or
something?"

           Frankie laughed, though it was a little forced. "Of
course not. Can't I tip the bartender without somebody making a big deal of it?"

           Marco just kind of nodded, held up the glass he
had been polishing to the light, and satisfied, put it on the shelf. Picking up
another, he started polishing it as well as he walked back to the other end of
the bar. There were two girls down there that were vying for his attention.

           Not much of a choice there.

           Frankie was creepy on a normal day with his
surliness. This was even creepier.

           Frankie was at home here, back at his usual
hole, in fact, in the same seat he had been in last night when he tossed his
book. Curious, he leaned over the bar. Little more junk, reeked just a little
bit more, but there it was, peaking out. His log.

           What a stupid idea that had been. Good thing he'd
tossed it.

           Frankie grabbed another napkin off the counter
and reached for a pen. Not having one, he looked around, finally spotting one
near the register. He leaned over the bar, stretching, until he could just
reach it, and he grabbed it.

           Marco watched from the other end, curious. When
he saw Frankie start drawing on a napkin, Marco just shook his head, grabbed
another glass to polish, and tried to look interested in the conversation
between the two girls. They were cute, but oh so stupid.

           Just his type.

           Frankie began trying to sketch the box, and the
decorations on the sides that he could see. No artist he, it took several
tries, and several napkins before he thought he might have caught the essence
of the design. Finally satisfied, he folded it up and tucked it into his shirt
pocket.

           He took a couple of more drinks, picturing the
box in his head. He set his glass down, and pulled the sketch out of his
pocket. Unfolding it, he went over it one more time. He nodded to himself.
Yep,
that was about right
. He couldn't think of anything else to add. He again
folded it and returned it to his shirt pocket.

           He was still wondering - who wouldn't have -
about what was in the box. He tipped the bottle back, draining it. He looked at
the coins left on the bar, reached into his pocket and pulled a few more to set
beside them, waved at the bartender, and left.

           He was on his way home, perhaps a block away, thinking
he should have taken a leak before he left. He began looking around for a place
to go. Not many places between there and his house. At least not with a public
bathroom. Walking a little faster, he was just about to duck into an alley
between two buildings when one more place caught his eye.  

INTERNET CAFÉ

           They were open to the public. They'd have a
bathroom. He headed over, looking in the front window. An older place, past it's
prime. Originally, in the early computer days, many came in to access the very
limited internet services. Now, however, everyone had internet at home, on
their laptops, and even on their phones.

           Not Frankie, of course.

           He went over to the entrance. The door had more
writing on it, a little easier to read as he approached it. Name, hours, and so
on, plus one more.

NO PUBLIC RESTROOMS

          
Shit
.

          
He paused
at the door, thinking about it, then walked on in.

           "Hi. I need to use your restroom."

           He knew what the response would be.

           A girl was sitting on a stool behind the counter
by a computer. Didn't anyone just use a cash register anymore?

           "I'm sorry, sir, but we have no public
restrooms. Those are only for the customers."

           He made a move as if to undo his belt. "Not
a problem. I understand. Of course, I guess I'll just have to drop a load right
here. I'm sure you understand."

           She looked at him with the look that said
Yea,
right. Go for it
, but didn't actually say anything.

           Expecting her to call his bluff, he stepped it
up a bit, undoing his belt and unsnapping his pants. Just as he grabbed his
zipper, she blinked.

           "Okay, okay. It's over there." She
flipped her thumb to the side, pointing the direction. As he passed, her thumb
went in and a finger went up. She thought he hadn't seen, but of course, he
had. Didn't matter.

           Quickly shutting the bathroom door, he finished
unzipping and took a leak. A good, long one. Enough to clear his bladder, and
even, it seemed, his mind, as an idea flashed across it. It actually surprised
him, as he just wasn't the kind of guy to come up with good ideas. Not really,
he had to admit to himself. Not intelligent ideas, anyway.

           But this one was different.

           He shook it off, rinsed his hands and dried
them, then tucked in his shirt to try and look a little more presentable. He'd
have to be a little different person on the way out than he was on the way in
to pull this off. He tried running his hands through his hair to straighten it
some, but it did not help. He tried smiling into the mirror, and quickly
stopped.

           That was just a little too weird. This would
have to do.

           He was no tech wizard. In fact, he didn't even
own a computer or have an e-mail account. If it wasn't on TV or dancing on a
pole, he didn't watch it. What he did know was that kids hung out here, kids
that knew a lot more about this than he did. Kids that probably wouldn't mind
showing off what they could do if he slipped them a few bucks.

           He came out, trying not to look like the same
asshole that went in. The way she looked at him, it didn't look like he was
succeeding
. Oh well, might as well give it a shot
.

           "Uh, Miss, uh, I just wanted to, well,
apologize for that a minute ago. I shouldn't have done that." He put on
his best apologetic look, without much confidence.

           She still looked unconvinced, but some of the
edge might be off. "Well, okay, mister. I'm just not supposed to let
anyone in here."                                                       

           "Oh, no, no. I understand. My fault. I
should have made it clearer why I was here."

           Now she looked puzzled.

           "I was looking for some help to get some
information on the internet. I don't know much about it, but I thought I might
be able to pay some kid to help me out with it. If that's alright."

           Her attitude changed completely with that.

           "Oh, in that case, you're a
customer
.
That's completely different. Of course you can use the bathroom. Anytime you
want." She blushed
.  What a stupid thing to say - anytime you want
.
She looked across the room, spotting some boys near the windows. "Anyway,
I think I know someone who could help you. Just a sec." She turned away,
but turned back towards him almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I almost
forgot. If you don't have a computer, you need to pay for some time on one of
ours." She pointed up at the sign with the rates. "That okay? You can
get as little as one hour."

           He read the sign, and slipped his hand into his
pocket to check. First paying some kid, then renting a computer - he hoped
there was enough there. Felt like it. "Sure, no problem."

           She smiled and pulled out a clipboard. "If
you could just fill out the top part for me -" she saw him pulling cash
out - "Just the name and address since you're paying cash."

           He took the clipboard and started to write, then
stopped. Maybe giving out my name and address isn't so smart, he thought. Quick
decision made, he continued filling it in, using both a fake name and address. He
saw her go over to a couple of guys near the window. The two guys talked a
moment, then nodded to the girl. The one sitting at the keyboard and the girl
came back up to him.

           "All done? Great. Mister, uh," she
looked at the clipboard, "
Manelli
? Okay. This is Tony. He's real
good at this stuff, and he said he'd be willing to let you hire him. I'll let
you guys work it out." She nodded at Tony and returned to her post.

           "Okay, Tony. What would you charge me to
show me some stuff on the internet? I paid for an hour of time for a computer."

           "Well, I'm thinking a twenty should cover
it," Tony replied. "That okay?"

           Frank nodded okay. What else could he do? He
pulled out his wallet, grabbed the twenty in front and handed it to him.  Then
he realized he may have nodded a little too quickly.

           "And my friend here, of course," added
Tony. "He'll be helping us, since we're here together.

           Frank checked his wallet again, finding only a
couple of fives and a couple singles. He counted out twelve, plus his initial
twenty. Thirty two. Turning red, he dug into his other pocket, and found two
more, plus a little change.

           "Uh, I wasn't really expecting to do this
today, so I didn't bring a bunch of cash. This is all I have with me. Maybe I
could, umm..." He knew he was being milked, but he couldn't back out now.

           Tony reached out and grabbed the rest of the
cash, leaving Frank with the change. "That's okay. This'll do it. Grab a
chair and follow me."

           Tony sat back down in front of the computer. Frankie
spotted an empty chair under a little café table occupied by a dark-haired girl
engrossed in her own laptop. He grabbed the back of the chair.

           "Miss, mind if I take this chair?"

           No response.

           He noticed she had earphones in. He wondered how
she managed to watch one computer while listening to something else. He waved a
hand at her, catching her attention. She stopped, obviously irritated, and
pulled one earphone out.

           "Yes?"

           "Just asking if I could have this chair."

           She looked at him as if he were from another
planet, then just flipped her hand in a
whatever
gesture, replacing her
earphone, again focusing on her own computer.

           He grabbed the chair, pulling it carefully away
from the table, but still managed to bump the table leg, shaking the table,
further annoying the girl. She didn't bother looking up at him- she just shook
her head disgustedly as if he were not even there.

           Frankie was used to this response. He got it all
the time.

           He carefully lifted the chair above the heads of
the surrounding people, following the boy to a computer near the front window
of the café. Not sure where to put his chair, he finally set it down to the boy's
right; his buddy was already sitting to his left, using his own computer. Some
kind of game was on both screens. It didn't make any sense to Frankie.
If
you're both playing the same game, why do you need two computers?

           "Okay, mister. What would you like to do?"

           "Well, I need to find, uh..." He
paused. He'd better think about this for just a minute. He knew he shouldn't
give too much away. He probably should have thought about this a bit first, but
quick thinking had never been his strong suit. He was going to have to make it
up as he went along, something that had never worked very well for Frankie.

           Even he knew that.

           "Well, a friend of mine was fixing up an
old house, and he found this box, and wanted to know if there was any
information on it. It looks - "he fished the sketch from his pocket,
unfolding it and putting it on the table, "- kinda like this."

           Tony leaned sideways for a better look. His
buddy couldn't see, so he got up and stood behind and between the two of them.

           "How big is it?" asked Tony's friend.

"About three feet long, roughly two feet deep, and
maybe a foot or so high. These," he pointed to the markings around the
periphery of the box, "are some kind of old locks. It looks like they go
all around." He remembered he hadn't been able to see the back sides to
know for sure.

           "Looks like? You saw it, right? I mean,
they either go around or they don't, right?"

Frankie squirmed a little, hoping they wouldn't notice.

           No, quick thinking was not his strong suit.

           "Oh, yea, of course, they go all around. I
just meant that from my drawing, you might not know they went all around."
Damn, that sounded stupid.

           The boys looked at each other, then at the
drawing and Frankie, then back at each other.

           "Ooookay then. So they go all around. That's
a lot of locks. Seems a bit excessive, if you ask me." Tony turned the
paper more toward him. "I wonder why."

           This time it was Frankie that had the answer. Or
at least
an
answer. Somehow, it had just popped into his head, but it
made sense.

           "You know, I was thinking about that. I
know that if several electricians are working on a job, they lock the fuse box
off so no one can accidentally turn the power back on. If there is more than
one electrician, each of them put their own lock on, and all of them have to be
off before you can turn the power back on.

           Maybe several people had keys, and they all had
to be there to open it."

           Tony nodded. "Makes sense to me. Only other
thing would be decorative - you obviously don't need that many. But your idea
makes a lot more sense."

           Frankie was pleased, though he tried not to show
it. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said he had a good idea. In
fact, thinking about it, he couldn't remember anyone
ever
saying that to
him.

           Tony continued. "What's this on the box?"
holding it up and turning it so both his buddy and Frankie could see it.

           "Over here, that's some kind of ribbon. I
think it was yellow, or orange. Not sure. It's pretty old. The marks here, and
here, and over here, I'm not sure what they are. Some are on the ribbons, some
were broken, some you could see where they had been, but they're not there anymore.
They're kind of thick"