Dodos

by Al Lamanda

  “Gimme a pitcher of beer and a basket of nuts,” Jack-Jack said.

  “And last but not least, you dear lady?” Garko said.

  “Me?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “I do believe so.”

  “Umm…let’s see now,” Muffie-Jo said. “What’s that cute little drink with the tiny umbrella and pineapple chunks in it?”

  “I dare say, I’m mystified,” Garko said. “But, I’ll figure it out.”

  “Thank you,” Muffie-Jo smiled.

  “Be back in a flash, gents and lady,” Garko said and dashed away.

  “Something’s wrong with that little guy,” Jack-Jack said.

  “I think he’s cute,” Muffie-Jo said and rustled Ian’s hair. “Like my little poo bear.”

  “Hey,” Ian said.

  “So, what do we do now, Lee?” Jack-Jack said. “I was all geared up to break some face and now it’s a big letdown.”

  “I know and I feel bad about that, Jack,” Gavin said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Lee,” Jack-Jack said.

  Garko arrived with a pushcart and set the drinks and bottles on the table. He looked at Gavin. “I assume this is on you.”

  Gavin glared at Ian. “Seeing as hells hasn’t frozen over just yet, yes.”

  “Excellent,” Garko said and whisked his cart away.

  Fubar and Snafu opened their bottles of Jack Daniels and took four long swallows that ended with, “Ahhh.”

  Jack-Jack lifted his pitcher of beer and drank sixteen ounces in one long gulp that was frightening to watch.

  Ian took a small sip of beer from his glass.

  Gavin took and even smaller sip from his.

  Muffie-Jo poked the pineapple chunks in her drink with the tiny umbrella. “What’s in this?” she asked Ian.

  Ian turned and looked at Garko behind the bar. “My wife wants to know what’s in her drink.”

  “A little bit of everything,” Garko said.

  “What I’m wondering is why a man would set fire to what appears to be a very successful little club because there’s a fire next door,” Gavin said.

  “Maybe he was sick of being a magician?” Snafu suggested.

  “Or maybe he just likes fires?” Fubar said. “Like that what’s his name in Queens?”

  “Tony Torchlight?” Ian said.

  “That’s him,” Fubar said.

  “Tony’s a professional arsonist,” Gavin said. “He burns down things for a living.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Fubar said. “But, he must love a good fire or he’d be something else, like maybe a dentist or something.”

  “Nobody wants to be a dentist,” Snafu said. “Even dentists don’t want to be dentists, all the time their hands in your mouth.”

  “Well, somebody must want to be a dentist or there wouldn’t be any,” Snafu said.

  “Good point,” Fubar said.

  “Look, the man isn’t a dentist or an arsonist,” Gavin said. “So he must have another reason he wanted to burn down his club.”

  “Hey, baby,” Muffie-Jo said as she set her empty glass down. “Could I have another?”

  Ian turned to wave to Garko, but the man was already on his way with a fresh drink and set it down before Muffie-Jo. “Another sweet concoction for the sweet,” he said.

  “You talk funny,” Muffie-Jo giggled.

  “I believe our communication problem is that you listen funny, dear lady,” Garko said and whisked back to the bar.

  “I could hold him upside by his ankles until he talks?” Jack-Jack said.

  “That’s a kind offer, Jack, but my guess is he hasn’t posted bail,” Gavin said.

  “Is that possible, to listen funny?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s possible,” Gavin said.

  “So, what are we going to do?” Ian said.

  “We’re going to go see a lawyer about a guy,” Gavin said.

  “If you mean Leo Levine, he hates you,” Ian said.

  “He doesn’t hate me,” Gavin said.

  “He won’t see you,” Ian insisted.

  “Why does he hate you?” Muffie-Jo asked Gavin.

  “He’ll see you,” Gavin told Ian.

  “But, I won’t see him,” Ian insisted.

  Gavin glared at Ian.

  “Why does he hate you?” Muffie-Jo said again.

  “Ask poo bear,” Gavin said.

  “That old chestnut again,” Ian said and rolled his eyes.

  “What old chestnut?” Snafu said.

  “You mean the old chestnut where you fell asleep in the getaway van and left Lee inside a warehouse full of stolen TV’s to take the rap for you, that one?” Jack-Jack said. “And that chestnut where he refused to name you to the DA or even his lawyer and took the full three year rap for your imbecilic stupidity, that one?”

  Snafu looked at Ian. “Wow.”

  “That’s some chestnut,” Fubar said.

  “Hey,” Ian said.

  “Well, wait,” Snafu said. “What’s that got to do with the lawyer hating Lee?”

  “Oh, well, see, what happened was,” Ian said. “Leo could have made a deal with the DA. Eighteen months in exchange for…well, me. But, Lee is a standup guy and wouldn’t go for the deal.”

  “So they gave him three years?” Snafu said.

  “Umm, not exactly,” Ian said. “See, I was in the back of the courtroom for moral support, minding my own business when…”

  “You were eating a bag of chocolate covered salted pretzels,” Gavin snapped.

  “There goes that vein again,” Fubar said.

  “Lee went nuts and, well, it took six court officers to pull him off of Ian,” Jack-Jack said. “The judge decided to tack on eighteen months for violent behavior and assign Lee to anger management counseling for one year.”

  Fubar looked at the pulsating purple vein in Gavin’s neck. “A lot of good that did.”

  “So that’s why the lawyer hates Lee?” Snafu said.

  “Umm, not quite,” Ian said. “See, Leo is, well bald as a baby’s behind, but wears a hairpiece. Used to, anyway. Until the court reporters in the hallway took photographs of him with his rug hanging off and put them in all the papers. Boy oh boy, was old Leo pissed. He had something like a hundred toupees sitting at home with no place to go.”

  “So my lipstick is a lost cause,” Muffie-Jo said. “It was a Mary Kay special.”

  Gavin glared so hard at Ian, at the bar Garko heard teeth crack.

  “I think he’s gonna blow again,” Snafu said.

  Muffie-Jo reached out with her thumb and pressed it against Gavin’s neck. “Am I supposed to say something, some special words or something?”

  “Yeah, duck,” Fubar said.

  About to stand up, Gavin paused when Patience suddenly said, “I thought you’d be here.”

  Gavin froze, turned and looked at Patience.

  Patience pointed her finger at Gavin. “Sit,” she commanded.

  Meekly, Gavin sat.

  “Wow,” Snafu said.

  “I’m off to work and I left you a nice chicken parm in the over with a fresh loaf of garlic bread,” Patience said.

  Ian cocked an eye toward his sister.

  Patience glared at Ian. “And you quit aggravating my husband for at least the next three months or so help me God; I’ll Mr. Spock you every night of the week. Clear?”

  Meekly, Ian nodded his head.

  “Wow,” Jack-Jack said.

  Patience looked at Gavin. “You have to be home in two hours or the automatic timer in the over shuts off and you’ll have to reheat it. Clear?”

  Meekly, Gavin nodded his head.

  “Wow,” Fubar said.

  “Bye, dear,” Patience said. “See you later.”

  The group sat silently until Patience was back on the street, then Ian said, “He’s not going to see us, Lee. No matter what.”

  “What if Doug threatened to blow up his office?” Fubar suggested.

  “Nope,” Ian said.


  “Johnny could run him down on the street?” Snafu said.

  “Still, nope.”

  “What if I dropped him off a roof?” Jack-Jack said.

  “Then he’d be a grease spot,” Ian said. “No, I’m telling you, Lee, there is no way that lawyer will see either you or me. That’s it.”

  “Will he see me?” Muffie-Jo cooed as she opened the tiny umbrella from her drink.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Ian, Gavin and Jack-Jack sat around Ian’s kitchen table for two hours waiting on Muffie-Jo. They ate a takeout breakfast from a diner on Broadway, then after an hour the waiting made them hungry again, so Gavin scrambled up some eggs and bacon and they ate a second time.

  Finally, after one hundred and fifty minutes of waiting, Muffie-Jo emerged from her cocoon and entered the kitchen. At the sight of the slit on the left of the mini skirt, cashmere sweater that fit like second skin, French braid, string of pearls, diamond earrings and three-inch heels, Ian, Gavin and Jack-Jack sat like statues and stared at her.

  “Well, let’s go, boys,” Muffie-Jo said. “We have a lawyer to see.”

  Ian, Gavin and Jack-Jack didn’t move a muscle as Muffie-Jo walked to the apartment door where she paused to turn around. “I’ll only use my power for good,” she said.

  Driving his pride and joy candy apple red Mustang, Ian glanced over at Muffie-Jo, who was applying a fresh coat of clean lipstick to keep her lips moist.

  “When did you go from my harmless wife to Fem Fatale?” Ian said.

  “I think in Sweden, but I’m not sure since I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Muffie-Jo said.

  From the back seat where Jack-Jack bulk had Gavin wedged against the door, Gavin said, “It’s work, Ian. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, well, what if this doesn’t work?” Ian said.

  “It will work,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “How are you so sure?” Ian said.

  “I’m an expert on getting men to do what I want,” Muffie-Jo said. “It isn’t really all that difficult.”

  “Lovely,” Ian said.

  “And as a last resort, I can always rub his tummy,” Muffie-Jo said and snapped her lipstick closed.

  Ian parked the Mustang in a lot on 31st Street around the corner from Park Avenue South. Then he, Muffie-Jo, Gavin and Jack-Jack walked to 33rd Street and Park Avenue South where Leo Levine had his office in a massive luxury-building center of the block.

  In the lobby, Muffie-Jo checked her appearance in a window. She took a deep breath and announced, “I’m ready for battle.”

  Agnes Wharhooten celebrated thirty years as Leo Levine’s private secretary and personal paralegal by accepting his thoughtful and very generous gift of an all expenses paid trip to the Bahamas. The trip included her husband Arthur. Of course, since Agnes was Leo’s older sister by two years and that he was scared to death of her, his generosity, like everything else the miserable little prick did in life came with a what’s in it for him clause.

  In this case, what was in it for him was two weeks of peace and quiet as, at five foot four in his stocking feet, Leo stood exactly ten inches shorter than his older sister. Oh, the beatings he suffered at her hands when they were children. To this day, Agnes struck fear down to the bone with a look.

  But, that was a story for another time.

  Leo kept his office on the eleventh floor, while his junior staff was housed one floor below in a suite that served no other purpose than as a show of power. To dictate who is boss and leader of…okay, truth be known, it was to hide his fear of Agnes from his staff because if word leaked out…

  Agnes knocked on his office door. “Leo?” she said.

  “Agnes, I told you no appointments today,” Leo said. “I’m working on the deposition for the city councilman.”

  “You’ll want to see this one, Leo,” Agnes insisted.

  Leo sighed. “Very well,” he said. “Have them wait in the conference room. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Make a fresh pot of tea or something.”

  “Ten minutes, no longer,” Agnes said.

  Leo sighed again and looked at his notes. The mayor begged him to defend the councilman against the charge the nineteen-year-old model filed against the fifty-nine-year old idiot for sexual harassment. She had a case, too, because she not only caught him red-handed stealing her underwear, but she had cell phone photos of him wearing it. Dancing in the bathroom as if he was in the chores of The Birdcage.

  Leo sighed one more time and stood up from his desk. he reached behind the chair for his jacket and put it on. He walked to the door, opened it and stepped out to the reception area where Agnes sat behind her desk.

  “Thirty minutes is all I can spare,” Leo said.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Agnes smirked.

  Leo walked down the hall to the conference room, opened the door, stepped in to look at Muffie-Jo, and froze in his tracks. Seated at the conference table, little teacup in her right hand, Muffie-Jo looked at him with her baby blue doe eyes and said, “I need a lawyer,” in her little girl’s voice and everything else was forgotten.

  Leo approached the table. “I just happen to be a lawyer,” he said.

  “Will you help me?” Muffie-Jo said in her little girl’s voice.

  “I’m a criminal defense attorney,” Leo said. “Have you committed a crime?”

  “Not yet,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “I don’t understand what that…” Leo said.

  The door opened and Jack-Jack entered with Agnes dangling under his left arm, a slice of masking tape over her mouth. “I’m sorry for the tape, but she wouldn’t shut up,” he said.

  “Who are you?” Leo said.

  “This is my friend Jack-Jack,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “They thought I was twins,” Jack-Jack said. “Turns out I was just one giant baby, so my Ma named me twice.”

  “What do you want?” Leo said.

  From behind Jack-Jack, Gavin and Ian emerged as if exiting the shadows of a cave. “Just to talk, Leo,” Gavin said.

  “You,” Leo snarled.

  “Us,” Ian said.

  “You,” Leo snarled louder.

  “It’s still us,” Ian said.

  “You look different, Leo,” Gavin said. “Younger.”

  “He’s got a new wig,” Ian said.

  “Ha!” Leo spat.

  “Did he just say ha?” Ian said.

  “Quit wiggling,” Jack-Jack told Agnes.

  With tiny fists outstretched, Leo charged at Gavin and pummeled him with a barrage of pitty pat punches to the chest that, due to the foot in height differential were more like pitty pat punches to Gavin’s naval.

  “Cut it out, Leo,” Gavin said.

  “Go on, pull it,” Leo snarled. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, to humiliate me again in public.”

  “Pull what?” Gavin said.

  “This,” Leo cried and pulled at the thick head of hair on his scalp. “Men’s Hair Club, Gavin. It’s mine, all mine. Thirteen thousand dollars and worth every stinking penny, so go on, pull it.”

  “Wow, it looks really good,” Ian said.

  “Ha!” Leo laughed. “Who’s laughing now, Gavin, huh? Who?”

  “Very natural, Leo,” Ian said. “I’d never guess.”

  Tired of Agnes wiggling, Jack-Jack slung her over his shoulder. “Keep it up and it’s out the window, lady,” he said.

  “Nobody’s laughing, Leo,” Gavin said. “We need your help.”

  “My help isn’t for sale,” Leo said.

  Gavin, Ian, Jack-Jack and even Muffie-Jo exchanged glances.

  “You’re a lawyer,” Ian said. “Of course, your help is for sale.”

  “Unless this suite of fancy offices is free?” Gavin said.

  “Last time, lady, quit wiggling,” Jack-Jack snarled.

  “Put her down next to Muffie-Jo,” Gavin said.

  Jack-Jack flipped Agnes up and over his shoulder and lowered her into the chair next to Muffie-Jo. He removed the tape and
said, “Open your mouth and I’ll pinch your face a good one.”

  “He will,” Ian said to Agnes.

  “Alright, Gavin, what do you want?” Leo said.

  “Your help.”

  “My time costs money,” Leo said. “Seven hundred and fifty dollars an hour is the standard office fee. A thousand an hour for court.”

  “And I’m a crook,” Ian said.

  Gavin dug out his thick roll of expense money, counted out fifteen one hundred dollar bills, and slapped them on the table. “Two hours should be enough time to explain this,” he said. “If it will make you feel more at ease, Muffie-Jo will hold your hand.”

  “I will,” Muffie-Jo chirped.

  Leo stared at the money for a moment. Then he turned to Agnes. “Get a pad and a fresh pot of tea,” he said. “And ask Chad’s Steakhouse on Second Avenue to bring us lunch in about an hour. Tell them the works.”

  “I love the works,” Ian said.

  “So long as you don’t pay for it,” Gavin said.

  Ian delicately cut into his second New York Cut steak and with mouth watering placed it on his tongue. “Gotta hand it to you, Leo,” he said. “You know how to live.”

  “What I know is you’re asking me to post bail for a man who tried to burn down his place of business to collect the insurance in the middle of your…your…Christ, you committed so many crimes at once, I’ll have to alphabetize them just to keep them straight.”

  “Don’t think of it as us committing a crime,” Ian said.

  “What shall I think of it then?” Leo said.

  “Righting a wrong,” Ian said.

  “Hand,” Muffie-Jo said.

  Leo’s left hand released Muffie-Jo’s right hand just long enough for her to cut a slice of steak and put it in her mouth.

  “And who exactly has been wronged here besides you and your band of traveling merry felons?” Leo said.

  “Wallace and his research team,” Gavin said. “They made the discovery of a lifetime and had it stolen from them by the idiots next door to the comedy club. The egg is rightfully theirs and like I said, we took the job of returning what’s theirs to them.”

  “Like Robin Hood,” Ian said.

  “For a fee, of course,” Leo said.

  “I think Robin Hood stole from the forest or something like that,” Jack-Jack said.