Dodos

by Al Lamanda

  “You’re going in without me?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Not only that, you have to pretend you don’t know us,” Gavin said.

  “Like we’re not even there,” Ian said.

  Muffie-Jo looked at Ian.

  “Coat off, chest out, you have to look your most seductive,” Gavin said.

  Muffie-Jo looked at Gavin.

  “And act your most seductive,” Ian chipped in.

  Muffie-Jo looked at Ian. “You want me to rub somebody’s tummy?”

  Gavin and Patience looked at Ian.

  “What?” Ian said. “It relaxes me.”

  “She can scratch you behind the ears for all I care,” Gavin said.

  “You know about that?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “We’re getting off track,” Gavin said. “The point is, Muffie-Jo that they see you and remember you for later. Can you do that? Can you make an impression on them for later?”

  Muffie-Jo nodded her head. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing,” Gavin said. “Not a thing. Just walk in, stand there and be yourself.”

  “I don’t really have to listen or anything, do I?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Just make believe you’re listening,” Gavin said.

  “Like when I pretend to listen to Ian,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Exactly,” Gavin said.

  “What?” Ian said.

  “Like when he drones on about housework and cooking,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Oh, nice,” Ian said.

  Gavin glanced at his watch. “Muffie-Jo, wait until ten past five, then enter the lecture hall. Remember, you don’t know us. Just stand there with chest out until the lecture is over. We’ll meet back here after it’s over. Got that?”

  Muffie-Jo nodded.

  Gavin tossed some bills on the table and he, Patience and Ian left Muffie-Jo alone. She sipped her coffee and looked out the window.

  “Enter, chest out and stand there. Enter, chest out and stand there,” she said aloud. “I can do this. I think I can, I think I can.”

  FIFTEEN

  The lobby of the museum was empty when Muffie-Jo entered, removed her coat and stood there for a moment looking for the lecture hall. A soft gasp caught her attention and she turned to her left where a security guard sat behind a desk.

  Muffie-Jo walked to the desk. “Hi, I’m looking for…oh, do you speak English?”

  The security guard stared at Muffie-Jo.

  “Oh, dear,” Muffie-Jo said.

  The security guard stared at Muffie-Jo.

  “The lecture, the egg thing?” Muffie-Jo said.

  The security guard stared at Muffie-Jo.

  Behind Muffie-Jo, another security guard said, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” in Swedish and Muffie-Jo turned around to look at him.

  “Hi,” Muffie-Jo said. “Do you speak English?”

  The second security guard leered at Muffie-Jo’s chest as a tiny bit of drool ran down his mouth.

  “Hey, hello, up here,” Muffie-Jo said.

  The security guard raised his eyes. “What can you do for me?” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, what can I do for you?” the security guard said. “Sorry, my English isn’t so good.”

  “The egg lecture?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Last door on the right,” the security guard said and pointed.

  “Thank you,” Muffie-Jo said and walked down the long hallway.

  Watching her walk away, the security guard at the desk bit his finger. The second security guard sighed deeply. “Somewhere, somebody is a very happy man,” he said in Swedish as he wiped drool from his lips.

  Muffie-Jo opened the heavy lecture hall door and stepped inside. As she moved against the wall, a soft hush came over the room, followed by a low buzz.

  “Enter, chest out, stand there,” Muffie-Jo whispered very softly to herself.

  A slap sounded, followed by another and a third. Somewhere in the hall, a man said, “What I do?”

  A woman in the hall said, “Eyes front, buster.”

  Muffie-Jo took a deep breath and several loud slaps followed in succession.

  On the stage with the glassed encased Dodo Egg between them, Peter Pogo, Gilbert and Godfrey Gordon, Nicole Westland and Kevin Clipper stared at Muffie-Jo.

  A woman in front said, “Can we continue the lecture or are you going to visibly eat her like a Big Mac?”

  “What?” Pogo said.

  “The lecture,” Another woman in the audience said. “Continue the lecture.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Pogo said. “Um, where was I now?”

  A woman stood up in a middle row. “After one week of digging for a skeleton, results were less than promising,” she said.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Pogo said. “Um, so after failed results, we had to…”

  Muffie-Jo smiled at Pogo as she ran her fingers through her locks of golden hair.

  “Had to…um…we…um…” Pogo said.

  A woman seated near Muffie-Jo turned around and shouted, “For crying out loud, would you sit down!”

  A man in the crowd yelled, “Would you mind your own business, hag.”

  The woman turned to the man and glared at him. “Hag, is it?” she snarled.

  “Miss, maybe you could find a seat?” Pogo said.

  “They’re all taken,” Muffie-Jo cooed.

  “Oh…my…God,” A man near Muffie-Jo gasped.

  “She can have mine,” A man yelled and jumped up.

  “No she can’t,” the man’s wife said and punched her husband in the eye.

  “Hag, is it?” the woman called a hag said and stood up.

  The man who called the woman a hag also stood up. He motioned to the woman. “Bring it, hag,” he said.

  “It’s go time,” the woman-hag said.

  A punch was thrown, a small riot broke out, Gavin and Ian looked at each other. Next to Gavin, Patience said, “Men.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Gavin said.

  Ian stared at Muffie-Jo, who calmly stood against the wall and watched women pummel men with their shoes. “My wife is a gold mine,” he said.

  “Four burgers with fries and a super sized chocolate shake,” Ian told the waitress.

  The waitress stared at Ian. “Just for you?”

  “Problem?” Ian said.

  “I’ll have a toasted bagel with cream cheese and tea with lemon,” Patience said.

  “Large mug of coffee with cream,” Gavin said.

  The waitress nodded, shook her head at Ian and walked away.

  “I don’t know why I never saw it before,” Ian said.

  “What?” Patience said.

  “Muffie-Jo is gold, pure gold,” Ian said.

  “How so?” Patience said.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Gavin said.

  “Think of all the future jobs we can use her on as a distraction,” Ian said, his eyes wide with greedy anticipation.

  “Ian, this is the last…” Gavin said.

  “Why didn’t I see this before?” Ian said.

  “Ask her,” Patience said, looking past Ian.

  “Ask me what?” Muffie-Jo said and slid into the booth next to Ian.

  “Why I never saw what a gold mine my own wife is,” Ian said. “There right under my nose all the time.”

  “What are you talking about, baby?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Later,” Gavin said. “What happened after we left?”

  Thirty seconds passed as Gavin and Muffie-Jo looked at each other.

  “Me?” Muffie-Jo finally said.

  “It’s who I had in mind,” Gavin said.

  “Oh, well, a bunch of women started beating up a bunch of men,” Muffie-Jo said. “Then the security guards came in to break it up and the women started beating them up, too. It was really confusing and I decided to leave.”

  “What about the men on stage, what did they do?” Gavin said.

  “Nothing. They just stood there and watc
hed,” Muffie-Jo said. “Except for the one who was doing all the talking. He kinda just waved to me.”

  “Did he say…?” Gavin said.

  “What do you mean wave?” Ian said.

  “He waved,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Waved how?” Ian said.

  “It doesn’t…” Gavin said.

  “Did he wave like this?” Ian said and performed the customary wave for hi.

  “No, it was more like this,” Muffie-Jo said and made a come on over motion.

  “Really?” Ian said, suddenly visibly upset.

  “Then what happened?” Gavin said.

  “Nothing,” Muffie-Jo said. “The security guards broke up the riot and I left.”

  “Who is this guy to wave at my wife?” Ian said.

  “Ian, that’s the point, remember?” Gavin said.

  “Waving is a point?”

  “Later,” Gavin said. “Girls, head back to the hotel. Ian and I are gonna hang back for a while.”

  “Why?” Patience said.

  “Yeah, why?” Ian said.

  “Details,” Gavin said.

  “I’m hungry,” Muffie-Jo said. “All that concentrating.”

  “Order room service,” Gavin said. “Anything you want.”

  Patience stood up from the table. “Come on, Muffie-Jo,” she said. “The boys just gave us a golden ticket.”

  “To see what?” Muffie-Jo said and stood up.

  “The five star menu.”

  As Patience and Muffie-Jo walked out of the diner, Ian said, “Now what?”

  “We wait,” Gavin said.

  “How long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “I better order dessert then.”

  SIXTEEN

  Gavin kept vigilant watch through the window as Ian sliced into his second helping of cheery covered chocolate cheesecake.

  As he sipped coffee, Gavin noticed five men walking down the museum steps. Just visible in the pooled lighting, Gavin picked out Peter Pogo as he laughed about something with the others.

  “Let’s go,” Gavin said.

  Ian cocked his head, saw the group, turned and shoved the remaining half of the cheesecake into his mouth, washed it down with a sip of coffee and said, “Go where?”

  “Tail them to their hotel,” Gavin said. “Get the layout, see what’s what.”

  The waitress set the check on the table. Ian looked at it. Gavin looked at Ian. Ian looked at Gavin.

  Gavin sighed as he dug out his wallet.

  “Let’s paint each other’s toenails while we wait for room service,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “I can’t even see my toenails,” Patience said. “But, my fingernails could use a touchup.”

  “Let me have a look,” Muffie-Jo said.

  One buff, two coats of scorching hot pink and one coat of clear coat later, room service arrived with a large trolley.

  “Jumbo shrimp, scallops, fried clams, two, three pound lobsters, New York sirloin steak, roasted potatoes with garlic, champagne and chocolate mouse and coffee for dessert,” the waiter said.

  Patience signed the bill and slipped the waiter a twenty.

  Muffie-Jo removed the cover from the shrimp. “Cooking is so overrated, don’t you think?”

  Patience removed the cover from the steaks. “Let’s download a movie.”

  “Could we turn down the heat a bit?” Muffie-Jo said. “It’s so hot in here.”

  “I’m freezing,” Ian complained.

  “We’ve only walked one block,” Gavin said.

  “Seems longer when you’re freezing.”

  “It’s winter back home too, you know.”

  “This is different cold,” Ian said. “This is like North Pole cold.”

  “Cold is cold,” Gavin said.

  “North Pole cold gets in your bones,” Ian said. “Makes them brittle.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Gavin said.

  “Like in that movie with the crazy guy,” Ian said. “Had this disease of brittle bones where even if he tripped, bones broke all over the place like fine china. I think it was Morgan Freeman.”

  Gavin stuck his left foot under Ian’s right shin and Ian fell flat on his face. “It was Samuel L. Jackson,” Gavin said.

  “What’s the big idea?” Ian said as he stood up.

  “Did anything break?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re cured. Shut up and keep walking.”

  One block ahead, Pogo and his crew walked at a leisurely pace, often pausing to window shop at various stores along the wide boulevard.

  “There are five or six hotels a few blocks from here,” Gavin said. “One of them has to be theirs.”

  “How do you know that, wise guy?” Ian said.

  “They’re walking,” Gavin said. “Would you walk any kind of distance in this freezing cold?”

  “I am walking any kind of distance in this freezing cold,” Ian pointed out.

  “They’re turning into a hotel,” Gavin said.

  Gavin and Ian walked another block and stood outside the glorious Hotel Stockholm, a one hundred year old landmark building. They entered the ornate lobby that opened up to an even more ornate main lobby where Pogo and his crew were checking messages at the ornate courtesy desk.

  On the right side of the lobby was a restaurant and Gavin and Ian ducked into it and grabbed a table by the window where they could see the courtesy desk. A waiter approached the table.

  “Bring us a couple of hot toddies,” Gavin said.

  “Make mine extra hot,” Ian added.

  At the courtesy desk, Pogo scanned a dozen or more messages and then he and his crew entered an empty elevator.

  “There they go,” Gavin said. He watched the digital floor reader above the elevator door and it went directly to the tenth floor where it stopped.

  The waiter returned with two steaming mugs and set them on the table.

  “Is there another bar in the hotel?” Gavin asked the waiter.

  “On the 20th floor,” the waiter said. “The revolving bar with great views of the city. Very romantic at night.”

  Gavin nodded as Ian sipped his toddy. A moment later, Ian grabbed the glass of water on the table and gasping, swallowed half in one large gulp.

  “You asked for it extra hot,” Gavin said.

  “My lips,” Ian croaked.

  “Never mind your lips. We know how long they’re staying and where,” Gavin said. “Now all we have to do is put your wife and those idiots together in one very romantic bar and let them all get drunk.”

  “Maybe we should rethink that part of the plan?” Ian said regaining some strength in his voice. “After all, my wife is kind of naïve and defenseless.”

  “Relax, Ian,” Gavin said. “Just remember the pen.”

  “The pen, right,” Ian said. “So she can write a note for help and stick it in a bottle like the movie.”

  “What movie?”

  “That one where he drowns in the ocean from a broken heart.”

  “And the ocean had nothing to do with it?”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Quit just saying and remember the million dollars,” Gavin said.

  Hearing the words million dollars had a sudden calming affect on Ian and he settled back in his chair. “A million dollars,” he said aloud.

  “This is a cardkey hotel,” Gavin said. “I can see the slot over the courtesy desk door.”

  “So?”

  “So, before we leave here I want you to steal a maid’s master cardkey,” Gavin said. “Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, I can,” Ian said.

  “Finish your drink and let’s go,” Gavin said. “I’m not crazy about leaving our wives alone with unlimited room service.”

  “Oh, now you’re concerned,” Ian said and blew on his toddy. “Just remember, you pay the room service bill.”

  Stuffed to the breaking point, Patience flopped back on the sofa and opened her maternity pants. Sea
ted next to her, an equally stuffed Muffie-Jo raised the champagne bottle to her lips and took the final sip in the large bottle.

  “Well, that’s that,” Muffie-Jo said, slurring her words as she tossed the bottle over her shoulder. “I can’t believe we drank this whole bottle.”

  “That’s because we didn’t,” Patience said. “I’m almost eight months pregnant.”

  “You mean I drank the whole bottle?” Muffie-Jo said and started to giggle. “Maybe we should get another?”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” Patience said. “When the boys see this mess…ouch.”

  “What?”

  “The baby kicked.”

  “Kicked what?”

  “Me, Muffie-Jo.”

  “From the inside out?”

  “Oops, there he goes again.”

  “Where?”

  Patience lifted her shirt to expose he large, round stomach. “Watch.”

  Muffie-Jo leaned in for a closer look. After several seconds, the baby kicked and she saw the ripple in Patience’s stomach.

  “That’s the baby?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “That is the living seed of the devil spawn I’m married to,” Patience said.

  “Oh, oh, it did it again,” Muffie-Jo said, excitedly.

  “I think it’s the garlic sauce,” Patience said.

  “Just think, in two months I’ll be an…”

  “Aunt.”

  “An aunt.”

  The baby kicked again and Muffie-Jo gently rested a hand on Patience’s stomach. “He’s in there, the little guy.”

  “He is,” Patience said.

  “All little and warm.”

  “Just waiting to come out.”

  “Can I hold him?” Muffie-Jo said as she wrapped her arms around Patience’s stomach.

  “In two months.”

  Muffie-Jo looked at Patience and a single tear ran down her left cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby before,” she said.

  “Muffie-Jo, haven’t you ever thought of having a baby, one of your own?” Patience said.

  “No,” Muffie-Jo said and started to cry. “Ian says it will ruin my figure.”

  “Ian doesn’t know his…”

  Muffie-Jo lowered her head to Patience’s shoulder and sobbed deeply. “I want a baby,” she said. “My own little baby,” she wept.