Rich tipped his hat and then took a tentative step back.
“But I’ve really got to go. The wife is probably wondering where I went. I swear it’s like that woman is attached to me,” he said with a wink to Eddie, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Eddie and Brooksie just stared at the unusual man as he smiled and ran off toward the fun house. She then turned to him, unaware of the potential kiss that Rich may have diverted.
“You were sick?” Brooksie asked.
“I… I had a bad case of the flu the last time I saw him. I thought I was going to die,” Eddie stated, turning back toward the smiling lady with the three softballs, “Hey, you still want that pink elephant?”
“I would love a pink elephant,” she replied, glaring at the blonde.
* * * *
Brooksie stared up at the giant, spinning behemoth labeled “The Strat-o-Ship”. Tucked beneath her left arm was the pink elephant that Edward had so easily won from the flirting floozie. Her right hand was currently being tugged by Edward.
“Come on, it looks like it’d be fun!” he prodded.
Fun if you’re not wearing a wig!
“I have no desire to fly in a rocket ship or an airplane or anything else that isn’t bolted to the ground,” she said, staring at the giant spacecraft.
“But it is bolted to the ground!”
“You go on ahead and I’ll wave to you from down here,” she stated, stepping back and holding the plush animal defiantly.
“Ah, you’re no fun,” he said, mockingly.
“No fun?” she blurted, raising her eyebrows.
He shrugged with a veiled smirk that spoke two words – show me! She snatched his hand and dragged him away from the Strat-o-Ship. He struggled for a moment to keep pace with her.
“Where are you taking me, Mrs. Fun?” he asked with a chuckle, still keeping a firm grip on her hand.
“That’s Miss Fun to you, Edward,” she growled, leading him up the midway and past the Kiddie Land, “You wanted to blow this joint, so let’s blow it.”
“We’re leaving?” he asked.
“Will Mommy and Daddy be OK with that?” she asked with a grin.
“I’m 23 years old, Miss Fun,” he said, “How old are you, by the way?”
“You don’t ask a lady questions like that,” she said, leading him toward the main entrance, “Shame on you for two weeks.”
He seemed reluctant for only a moment. She could feel it in his hand as they exited beneath the giant Bethel Lake Park arch.
“Do you mind telling me where we’re going? I’m not really familiar with the area,” he asked.
“We’re going to the Anthony Wayne House of Fun,” she said, “And we’re taking my car.”
She pointed toward a long black vehicle that resembled an old-fashion version of a station wagon.
“How would you feel if I told you that you’re making nervous – sincerely?” he asked.
She stopped at the car and finally released his hand. She turned to him and cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m no fun, remember?” she said, “I’m not only going to prove you wrong, but I’m also going to make you prove yourself.”
* * * *
This was definitely going in the wrong direction. Even if the magical doorway wasn’t beckoning him, he’d still have enough self-respect not to hurt this innocent bystander of his silly vacation. He wasn’t like his friends at work. She was definitely beautiful in every way that a woman could be beautiful, but what about respect? He placed a certain value on the fairer sex that simply wasn’t valued anymore. Why, if she could be his…
He glanced over at her as she steered out of the parking lot. A fear suddenly welled up from deep within him. His mind started going off into a direction that simply wasn’t permitted. There were rules, after all.
“What?” she asked - catching him in her peripheral vision.
“Do you ever get scared?”
“I used to. Well, I guess I still do,” she said, glancing over at him, “But when the world starts taking advantage of you and thinking that they own you, you can either cower or you can fight. I used to cower a lot.”
He tried to envision the actress punching out her director and running off the set. The pictures he saw on the internet revealed a much more refined elegance. Patience Webb looked like the pampered goddess who never had to think for herself. But that refined lady wasn’t the one driving this car tonight.
“What would you do if you lost everything? What would you do if you woke up one morning and realized that your house was gone, your family was gone, and everything you owned was simply gone?” he asked.
She gave him a fearful glance that made him realize the depth of her concealed answer. He was trying to envision his own future situation, but had accidentally described hers.
“Well, I’d probably look for a job and just pick up the pieces,” she said, “But I wouldn’t give up, if that’s what you’re suggesting. If you’ll recall, I just drove away from my life a couple weeks ago. I ran and left everything behind.”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to envision it from my own end. Sadly, my life doesn’t amount to much. I wouldn’t be leaving a whole lot behind,” he said, “I’ve got a job that probably won’t be there for much longer. I’ve got a house that I own outright. And I have two parents that I love. I guess in this whole world, that’s all I’ve got.”
She reached down the front of her shirt and pulled out a small roll of bills. She tossed it into his lap.
“You’ve got a lot more than me. I’ve got this car and what you see in your lap,” she said, “Oh, and a pack of cigarettes under the seat, a pink elephant, and a box of vaudeville costumes in the back.”
He unrolled the bills and counted out a hundred and sixty dollars.
“Vaudeville costumes?” he asked, rolling the bills back up and handing them to her.
“I used to do some vaudeville a few years ago. It’s got no place in this world anymore. Once these parks started putting up the cinemas, the stages became extinct,” she replied, tucking the money away, “You’ll be doing some acting tonight - unless of course, you’re no fun.”
She pointed out the window at a ten-story brick building. With the exception of a flickering “W”, the sign was brightly lit - labeling it the “Anthony Wayne Hotel.” He hoped that she couldn’t see the flush of his face or the shaking of his hands. This wasn’t going in the right direction at all.
* * * *
“Stop looking at me like that,” she said as she slammed the car door, “You didn’t think… Oh,heavens!”
She started laughing at him as he stood there gaping in confusion.
“Shame on you for two more weeks! That’s four weeks now! Shame!” she said, opening the back door, “Shame!”
“What did you expect me to think? Even now, I still don’t know what you’re planning at the ‘Anthony Wayne House of Fun’!”
She looked over the top of the car at him and nodded, realizing indeed that she hadn’t chosen her words wisely.
“Alright, I shouldn’t have called it that. And I guess some of the other things I said could have sounded a bit risqué,” she said, ducking into the car and opening the box, “But you’re not relieved of all the shame. I’ll take back one week.”
She shifted through the box and located the items she needed. Edward walked around the car and leaned against the driver’s door beside her.
“Here,” she said, holding a wallet out to him.
She closed the car door and then handed him a leather blackjack. He took it from her and looked curiously at the weapon.
“Detectives use them to beat out confessions. At least that’s what it was used for in my latest mov… vaudeville show,” she said, hoping she caught that word in time.
He flipped open the wallet and discovered a realistic looking badge.
“What is-”
“Follow me and you’ll find out, detective,” she said, linking her arm in his.
/> He shook his head as he stared down at the weapon in his hand.
“Do you like keeping me in a constant state of fear?”
“Fear? Were you experiencing fear when you thought we were coming here to… you know,” she asked.
He laughed as he looked over at her. He grinned like a mischievous child who had just been called out by the school teacher.
“You seem like a pretty tough dame,” he said, “I had no idea what wild things you could be capable of.”
She slapped him in the shoulder as she laughed.
“Shame on you for a month – no, two months!” she said, “I should just leave you here in the alley and let you fend for yourself.”
He glanced around the dark alley, realizing for the first time that she had led him between the hotel and the F. W. Woolworth building. It didn’t look like a safe area to be strolling through beneath the nighttime sky.
“Why are we back here anyway?” he asked.
“See that door over there by the dumpster?” she asked, pointing toward the red door labeled Hotel Employees Only, “This is where you show me what you’re made of. This is where I prove that it’s you who’s no fun.”
He grinned at her again. She was starting to grow quite fond of that smile.
“And if you’re wrong?” he asked.
She looked up toward the moon in thought as she rubbed her chin. She was having a lot more fun toying with this man than she’d had in a long time.
“Name your prize,” she said.
The way he looked at her just then was undeniably “different”. It was not only different than any way he had looked at her before, but it was different than the way any man had looked at her. His eyes never raked down her body as the others would often do. He just looked into her eyes like… almost as though he was looking at the frightened child beneath her harsh exterior.
“Give me tomorrow,” he said, “I want the whole day.”
* * * *
“ALRIGHT! We’re shutting you down under Ohio Ordinance 117.03,” Eddie shouted, holding the badge high for everyone to see, “The place is surrounded.”
The two burlesque dancers screamed and jumped down from the makeshift stage. The warehouse-sized room was crowded with probably a hundred people seated at dozens of crate-tables throughout the room. The man at the piano blatantly ignored him as the lady in the sequined white dress continued to blare out her smooth-flowing jazz on the saxophone.
Was this speakeasy filled with a bunch of deaf people?
Just then, a gun was pressed to the side of his head from a shadowy figure appearing at his right. The clientele in this lively club paid him little regard as they continued in their card games, their conversations, and their consumption of illegal alcohol. Apparently the only people frightened by his badge were the two dancers.
“And just what is this Ordinance 117.03?” the shadowy figure asked, “If you can recite it for me, I’ll let you live. You’ve got ten seconds.”
Eddie couldn’t be certain, but in that moment, he had a disturbing feeling that he may have just wet himself. Did people really do that out of fear?
“I – I guess it has s-something to do with prohibition?” he muttered.
“You guess? Hey everyone, this officer ‘guesses’ when he waves a badge around!” he shouted with a laugh.
Only a few of the patrons found it as hilarious as his tormentor. He heard the faint click of a gun being cocked by his ear. If he hadn’t wet himself before, he was definitely doing it now. He wondered for a moment if Brooksie would feel bad about his death. “I have just one more question before I send you to your maker,” the shadow growled at him.
Eddie swallowed, knowing he had no satisfactory answers for this man. If he was going to die tonight, he might as well feign a bit of silent pride. He stood a little a taller and then closed his eyes, waiting for the question.
“Where’s my Patti?” the man shouted with a laugh.
He immediately lowered the gun and patted Eddie on the shoulder. Eddie turned to the large man who happened to be wearing a Silver Falls Police uniform. The police officer was grinning widely as he lowered his gun into his holster.
“Well come on, where is she?” he asked, tapping Eddie on the shoulder.
Eddie turned to look at the stairs behind him. Brooksie rushed down the stairs and threw her arms around the giant police officer. He spun her around, laughing the whole time.
“I knew you’d show up! I just knew it!” he said, “Right when I read-”
She put her hand over his mouth and shushed him. Then she looked over at Eddie as she kept her hand over the beast’s mouth.
“Edward, this is my brother Ben. Ben, this is my good friend Edward,” she said.
Ben lowered her to her feet and reached out a hand to Eddie. Eddie shook his hand, catching a glimpse of the name on his chest. It simply read “Webb.” She wasn’t going to be able to play out this charade much longer.
She whispered something quickly to Ben as they were shaking hands. Ben nodded to her and then blasted another of his wide smiles at Eddie.
“I can’t believe she convinced you to do that,” he said, “You’re alright in my book. Drinks are on me. The bar’s over there near the piano.”
Eddie didn’t drink, but he felt it best to probably head in that direction anyway. If Ben was her brother, she probably hadn’t seen him in years. It would probably be in his best interest to mingle and give them time to catch up.
A couple of greasy truck drivers greeted him with drunken smiles and words of congratulations over surviving Ben’s wrath. There were nods of greeting throughout the massive warehouse-club as he negotiated his way to the bar. The long-legged women straight out of modern day Vegas returned to the stage and were now dancing as though nothing had ever happened. His first thought as he watched them was shameful surprise. It strangely occurred to him that he never fathomed the possibility of “nice legs” in his nation’s history. Maybe it was the lack of “nice legs” in old time photos.
Why was he standing here pondering the legs of these dancers? Eddie had larger problems to contend with at the moment. He was now standing in an illegal establishment propped against an illegal bar in 1928. And to make matters much worse, he was starting to seriously like…
“You just made Ben’s day - I hope you know that,” the overweight bartender stated.
Eddie turned to the man with the cigar in his mouth and nodded.
“What’ll you have? Today’s special is whiskey or rum – and that’s all we’ve got until tomorrow’s shipment,” he said, puffing on the cigar nub.
“I’m not thirsty, unless you have Coca-Cola,” he replied, passing a quick glance around the room.
Most of the tables were made from the large cable spools used by the telephone companies. Several others were simply wooden crates. More than half of the people here were gambling at tables loaded with crumpled piles of dollar bills. He never heard about gambling problems during prohibition, but then again, he was never interested in the topic.
A bottle appeared on the bar beside him. The bartender pried the top off and then slid the bottle to him.
“Maybe you are a cop,” the bartender said.
Eddie smirked, looking at the bartender.
“Does that really matter here?” Eddie asked, nodding over toward the uniformed behemoth sitting with Brooksie.
The bartender laughed and then directed his attention to the other patrons returning for more liquor. Eddie turned away from the bar and located Brooksie who was now seated at a table with Ben. She caught his eye and waved him over.
He grabbed his soda and took a long drink. There was something different about this beverage. He didn’t believe Coke ever changed their recipe, but somehow it did taste better now than in 2009. Perhaps it was due to the use of a glass bottle instead of a can. He navigated through the smoke filled room and found his way to their table.
“Did she tell you why she was having you shout that ordinance
code?” Ben asked as Eddie sat down.
“No, but now I figure it must have meant something,” he said, happy to see a true smile on Brooksie’s face.
Ben took a drink of the amber fluid in his glass and then grinned over at Brooksie.
“She ran out on us long ago, but we kept in touch. I was her older brother at one time in the past and that meant I was supposed to look out for Pat-”
He had apparently caught his blunder. Ben stared at Brooksie for a moment and then slapped his hand on the table.
“Aw, come on. He’s not stupid,” Ben said as he waved his hand at Eddie, “Edward, tell me you don’t know who she is.”
He looked at Brooksie and recognized a smidgen of fear in her eyes. As much as he’d like to plead ignorance, he wanted to keep an honest persona around her. He nodded.
“You know?” she asked incredulously.
She stared across the table as he gave another subtle nod.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “You’re lying.”
“Patience Webb,” Eddie mumbled with a hint of reluctance.
She leaned forward and looked at him in shock. Whether she was mad or not, he couldn’t tell.
“Told you,” Ben said.
“How long have you known?” she asked.
“When you told me how far you had been running. It just all added up,” he replied, “I don’t blame you for hiding out. Hollywood is known for mistreating people.”
Saving Brooksie Page 6
