by Guy Franks
After the game, most of the players scattered to the four winds to enjoy the extended All-Star break, some to catch up with their families, some to go fishing, and others just to chill out and mend their aches and pains. Shake and Rick, along with six Kingsmen, didn’t have that luxury. They had an All-Star Game to play.
Shake finished up his paperwork and took a shower and changed into some nice clothes. He was taking Lucy to the theatre to see The Taming of the Shrew. First he planned to take her to dinner and then they’d walk over to The Repertory Theatre to see the play at 8:00. Their relationship had been a little strained lately and this was his way of making it up to her.
The theatre was rather small and the performance was sold out but he had tickets in the third row, dead center. Shake and Lucy sat down in their seats and read the program. His brother Gilbert had told him about this production. It was set in the Wild West, in a Texas saloon, with Petruchio as a cowboy and Kate as a Calamity Jane-type character. Gil said it was fresh and clever and Shake was looking forward to it.
The house was full and everyone waited for the lights to go down. A man appeared on stage with a microphone and walked towards them. At first Shake thought that the show, for some reason, was going to be delayed or cancelled, and he was sure of it when the man introduced himself as the director. But unexpectedly, the director sat down on the edge of the stage, smiled at the audience, and took up his microphone.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said. He had the demeanor of a cool college professor, the one who finds it important to relate to all his students. “We’ll get things started in just a moment, but I wanted to take a few minutes to talk about The Taming of the Shrew and our good friend Will Shakespeare… Shakespeare was a product of his time. This play—The Taming of the Shrew—is a product of that time. It was a time when women were worse than second class citizens. If they were a daughter, their father ruled them with an iron hand. If a wife, their husband was their lord and master and they were no better than slaves. Today, in our enlightened twentieth century, we find such a state of affairs to be contemptible, even barbarous. But even a great playwright like Shakespeare was still a product of his time and you will find things in this play that may offend you. We’ve taken some liberties with the play and set it in the Wild West to give it a more American feel, yet, with all due apologies, it’s still burdened by the patriarchal tyranny of sixteenth century England. Some critics have pointed out that Shakespeare, in all his genius, should never have allowed—”
“Hold it there!” cried Shake as he rose from his seat. “Where the hell do you get off apologizing for Shakespeare?”
The startled director lowered his microphone and looked at Shake. There was a smattering of applause at his outburst and someone in the back said, “Here, here.” A woman in front of him turned around and told him to sit down but Shake remained standing.
“Let me finish,” said the director, trying to regain his composure.
“Let me speak,” countered Shake loudly. The same woman told him to sit down again, and she was joined by her partner who told him not only to sit down but to shut up as well. Shake looked down at the two of them and said,
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or else my heart concealing it will break.
Many in the audience recognized that as a line from the play and laughed. The two women turned back around and looked at the stage.
“No, go on,’ replied the director in a way to show the audience he was open to all opinions. “What is it you have to say?”
“It’s rather pretentious, don’t you think, to come out here and apologize for Shakespeare? He’s been doing quite well up to now. Let him speak for himself. Let his play speak for itself. We don’t need you to explain things to us like we’re school children, who need to be coddled and protected. Give us a little credit for being grown-ups and get out of the way of genius.”
The smattering of applause increased as the audience rallied behind this unexpected rebel. They welcomed his message; they were grown-ups and they didn’t need to be coddled. Seeing all this, the director stood up and politely bowed to the audience. “Fair enough,” he said curtly. “On with the play.”
Shake sat back down next to Lucy and glanced at her to check her reaction. She looked amused, and she bumped shoulders with him and said, “You’re a bad boy.”
The play ran its course and at the end Shake joined whole-heartedly in the two standing ovations. Gil had been right—it was fresh and clever—and he was glad he saw it. In the lobby he waited for Lucy to go to the restroom. A few folks came up to him and patted him on the back or shook his hand. One tall fellow yelled over the crowd, “Hey, Shake. Still arguing with umpires I see.”
Lucy came out and as they went to leave they ran into Dane and Delia.
“Hey, Coach,” said Dane. “This is my friend Delia.”
Shake introduced Lucy and shook hands with the two of them. Dane no longer looked like a monk. Sporting a v-neck sweater with a shirt and tie, his hair parted on the side, he looked quite the Ivy League gentleman. His girlfriend smiled coolly at his side. She had long blonde hair and the most beautiful, sad blue eyes. She wore a corsage as though they were on a prom date.
“I loved your speech there,” said Dane. “I don’t think he was expecting anyone to interrupt his spiel.”
“Couldn’t help myself.
“I totally agree with you. I’m just glad someone had the guts to get up and say so.”
“My dad was an English Lit professor. Specialized in Shakespeare. He would have rolled over in his grave if I hadn’t stood up… But what would you have done?” (To Lucy.) “Don’t know if I mentioned it but Dane here knows his Shakespeare. We’ve gone ‘round a few times.” (Back to Dane.) “If I hadn’t made a fool out of myself first, what would you have done?”
“Hmm, let me think about that,” replied Dane while rubbing his chin in thought. “I probably would have let it go, but sat there all steamed-up inside for the rest of the night.”
“You said your last name is Hamilton?” interrupted Lucy. “You live around here?”
“During the season, but I grew up in Ithaca, New York.”
“Went to Cornel,” added Shake.
“Is that where your family is?” asked Lucy.
“Yes, well just my mom. My dad passed away when I was ten.”
“Oh, sorry to bring up sad memories.”
“That’s okay.”
There was a moment of awkward silence that Shake quickly filled: “Lucy owns The Mermaid Tavern and we’re going over there now. If the two of you aren’t doing anything, come by.”
Shake noticed Delia with the beautiful, sad blue eyes tug gently at Dane’s coat.
“No, we got to go,” said Dane with a self-conscious smile.
They said their goodbyes and Shake and Lucy walked out into the night air. It was still warm outside. They walked together the two blocks back to the car. Lucy was quiet most of the way.
“Is he a nephew of yours?” she asked.
“A what? Nephew? No,” he answered with a surprised chuckle. “Why?”
“No reason. Just curious.”
Shake found the question odd, but as he walked a little further he got the connection. “He’s a second baseman. So was I,” he said. “We all look alike.”
Luis Santiago pulled the necklace out of his pocket and admired it. It was worth a hundred dollars he was going to get from Phil for it—but it was worth even more than that. It kept his rep as the team’s Casanova intact, and that was worth more to Luis than the hundred bucks. And it hadn’t been easy getting his hands on it. All it took was the seduction of a hotel house maid (a cute Latina and probably an illegal), then stealing her master card-key, pulling the fire-alarm, and slipping quickly into Gwen’s room as she rushed out. Luck played its part: he figured she took her necklace off w
hen she slept and he was right. He found it on the nightstand next to the bed, pocketed it, and got out of there fast. All in all, he had to admire his own ingenuity.
Luis knocked on the door to Phil Cappadona’s apartment. Phil let him in where he found Chuck Davis on the couch watching TV. Luis and Phil were scheduled to leave the next morning for the All-Star Game.
“He’s here to pay up,” said Phil cheerfully.
“Or collect,” said Chuck.
Luis didn’t answer and walked into the living room like a matador walking into the bullring. He eased gracefully down into a chair, ignoring the two of them.
“Well?” asked Phil. “Time’s up. Did you get it?… Well, did you?”
“Don’t tell us you got it,” said Chuck hopefully.
Luis regarded them aloofly and then looked away at something more important.
“He’s not going to tell us,” added Chuck.
“That’s cause he didn’t get it,” claimed Phil with smirk. “He didn’t nail her. Despite all his plots and schemes, he struck out. He’s here to pay up. Am I right or am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong?”
There was a large wooden spool that once held telephone cable that acted as Phil’s coffee table. Now Luis stood up and held his closed fist over the table. He let slip the necklace but caught it in time so it dangled enticingly over the table before he let it drop.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Phil as he grabbed up the prize. “You did it!”
“Why would you doubt me?” replied Luis returning Phil’s earlier smirk.
“Dammit, Tiago,” said Chuck. “I was hoping you wouldn’t do it—but you did. Not good… It’s not good. Basset will find out about this?”
“She’s not going to tell him.”
“Wait,” said Phil. “How do I know this is her necklace and you didn’t just go out and buy one just like it?”
“Open it up and read the inscription.”
Phil opened the locket and read the inscription out loud: “To my beloved Gwen. Corinthians 13: 4-8.” He looked at Luis with renewed awe. “Holy shit. You did it!” he repeated.
“How do you know she’s not going to tell him?” asked Chuck. “They were engaged and now what? Is she going with you now? In that case she’ll have to break it off and tell him.”
“She won’t say a thing. Trust me. It was a one night stand and I told her that. She’s not going to break off her engagement.”
“You better hope not,” said Chuck. “And how is she going to explain the missing locket?”
“She lost it. Someone stole it. That’s her problem.”
“You’re a cold-hearted bastard, bro,” replied Chuck shaking his head sadly. “I could never do that to a woman.”
“No doubt, Davis. You gotta be willing to do whatever it takes, which is why me and Cap are going to the All-Star Game and you’re staying home.”
“Eat my shorts.”
“Time to pay up,” Luis said to Phil. “I’ll take fives and tens, or twenties if you have ’em.”
Phil got up and went into his room and came back with a wad of cash. He counted out five twenties and handed them to Luis.
“And the necklace,” said Luis.
“Wha—no way,” protested Phil. “I paid good money for that. It’s mine now.”
“Hand it over,” replied Luis, suddenly stone-faced.
“No way, bro. It’s mine now.”
“What do you want it for? Give it back… Look, I took it off the nightstand when she was in the bathroom and I’d like to give it back to her.”
“How you gonna do that?”
“Slip it in her coat pocket or in her purse when she’s not looking. It’s the right thing to do.”
“‘The right thing to do,’” repeated Phil with a sarcastic laugh. “If you cared about the right thing you wouldn’t have screwed your buddy’s fiancé and stolen her necklace. I know you. You’re just going to pawn it.”
“Give it back, asshole.”
“Fuck you. It’s mine now.”
In the dominion of young male egos, where rightful possession is at stake, one thing inexorably leads to another. In no time, Luis and Phil were standing face to face yelling obscenities at each other. In a second it would come to blows.
“Stop it!” yelled Chuck as he stepped forcibly in-between them. “Back off! Both of you!” They stepped back but glared at one another. “There,” added Chuck. “I told you this thing would lead to trouble. Now give me the locket.” (To Phil.) “Goddam it, Cap, give it to me. What do you need it for? Nothing. Now give it to me… Okay.” (To Luis) “And you’re not getting it either. I’ll make sure she gets it back. Just like you said—I’ll find a way to slip it in her purse. But I’ll take care of it… Okay? Are we good?”
“We’re good.”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
Everybody sat back down and Chuck grabbed the TV remote and switched on Major League Baseball highlights.
“The least you could do,” said Phil half-jokingly, “is buy us dinner with your winnings.”
“Can’t,” replied Luis standing up. He brushed off his pants. “Got a date. See you later.” And with that he left.
After the door closed, Phil looked at Chuck. “What a jerk,” he said.
Chuck didn’t disagree.
Mike Faust, trainer for the Kingsmen, sat in his apartment watching MacGyver on TV. He really wasn’t paying much attention to the story as his thoughts dwelled on more pressing matters—his divorce, his financial problems, and his side business. His empty stare at the television masked a busy mind, and the internal dialogue went something like this:
“Goddam bitch wants everything. And her lawyer can do it, too. If I had a better lawyer this wouldn’t be happening. But I can’t afford one. The whole system is rigged in favor of the woman. Men get screwed every time. She won’t even talk to me. If I could talk to her, we could work it out without these blood-sucking lawyers. But she won’t talk to me so I’m fucked. Screw her.
“Ten grand for a lawyer. Maybe more if we go to Divorce Court. I can’t borrow any more from my parents, or my brother. I can turn off my cable service—that would save a few bucks. What else? Eat fast food? I already eat too much goddam fast food. Sell some stuff? My stereo system? My car? No, I need my car, but I could still sell it and buy a cheaper one… I don’t know. My side business is making me some money but I need to expand it. How though? I’m selling Deca to three players, whites to a few more, but it’s not enough. I need more.
“How though? It’s a balancing act and I have to be careful. The guys on Deca are showing results—just look at Estrella, for Christ’s sake—but how do you get the word out? What’s it, eighth-thirty? Rosecrans will be here at nine. I know Greg’s been talking to some of the other players, but so far no bites. I know some of the other Dominicans would go for it but they think it’s needles and they don’t like needles. Dumbshits. I could put them on an oral treatment. Takes a little longer but still works. Estrella needs to help me. He owes me. He needs to pass the word onto his buddies that they can get the same results without needles.
“But too many people can’t know. Be careful. What would the organization do it they found out I was selling steroids? Whites?—that’s one thing—they’d probably slap my wrists. But steroids—that’s another thing. What would Shake do if he found out I was selling Deca to his players? Tell the big club. But what would they do? Fire me? It’s not a banned substance. It’s not cocaine, for crying out loud.
“In a just world they’d thank me and give me a raise. I’m performing a service. I’m creating better, stronger ball-players and that all translates to more W’s on the scoreboard. It’s win-win. The player turns his career around, gets called up to the majors, and signs a fat contract. Who’s to say that’s wrong? Look at Estrella. The guy’s probably got family living in poverty in the D.
R.. I turn him on to Deca, he gets called up and makes the big money and pulls his family out of poverty. How’s that make me a bad guy? I turn out faster, stronger ball-players. Word gets out that I have a system that gets results, and that’s all they care about—results.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s what it comes down to—results. Let’s not kid ourselves that there’s anything noble going on. Whatever gets results. That’s the bottom line. If I can get a rep as a trainer who gets results then they’ll bump me up to Triple-A. Maybe the Show. That means more money and getting out of this hole I’m in. Wouldn’t that be sweet? And they won’t care how I get the results, just that I get the results. Who are we kidding? They don’t care. They know it’s the wave of the future. They’ll look the other way. Guaranteed.”
Mike’s reverie was broken by the sound of the doorbell and he got up and let Greg Rosecrans in. That was another thing, he thought, as he gave Greg his bi-monthly dosage and took payment for it: what would they do without him? Get it off the streets? Without guidance, they’d over-dose, under-dose, or maybe end up with hepatitis or even AIDS. He instructed them on the right cycle, proper dosages, and the need to take testosterone supplements. He made it safe.
Greg left and Mike sat back down in front of his TV feeling a little better about himself. He switched to baseball highlights and played a game with himself where he tried to guess which players hitting homeruns were juiced or not juiced.
Let Will Shakespeare speak for himself, said Shake; Luis got his keepsake; Faust his piece of cake.
15
CHAPTER
We have heard the chimes at midnight
Henry IV, Part 2
It was mid-day in the alley behind Quick’s Cocktail Lounge. Hank and Busta finished off a jay and entered Quick’s through the back door where they found Papi sitting with a woman in the back room. The woman was in her mid-forties with exceedingly large breasts and a tooth missing that only showed when she smiled big. She and Papi had spent the night together and Papi, with a King Cobra in one hand and the woman in the other, was in fine spirits. He was singing loudly when Hank appeared.
