continued)
He flipped it open and took a French cigarette out, stuck it in his filter, then handed me one and lit them. We shared some smoke for a quiet while. He inhaled deeply and slowly, methodically, like he was mulling something over, until he took his pocket-watch out. Looking at the time, he flicked his cigarette to the side-he must have been late to his ball.
“ Well sport, I must be going, don’ t worry, I’ ll be seeing you after you meet Doc, what’ s left of you anyway.” He walked out the only door from this joint.
This Doc sounded like he was going to be one helluva character. I looked around probably for the first time. It was a simple warehouse, crates everywhere, save a narrow corridor leading to the only door and a space in the middle. In the space there was an empty steel desk and two chairs: a swivel one behind the desk, and the wooden one which my feet were tied to. Seemed like every racketeerer, and two-bit gangster with some loose change had one of these dumps in L. A.
* * * It was 7:26. Say what you want about Fists, he could tie a mean knot. There was no way I could get loose. Not that it mattered, about a minute after Boss strolled out, the‘ defender of Eire’ came marching in, whistling some IRA tune, with Doc meekly quick-stepping after him.
He wore black. Black coat, black suit, black hat, all in sharp contrast to his chalky-white complexion. The only thing he wore that wasn’ t black were a pair of large round, rimless glasses, so thick they were opaque. With his glasses, his buggy eyes bulged to the point of theatricality, making his tiny face look even smaller. The only other thing I noticed was a small black doctor’ s bag he held loosely, like it grew attached to him and just dangled from his hand-I didn’ t like the look of that bag. He wasn’ t at all like the hulking six foot German mustached butcher I envisioned. For some reason, I wished he was the butcher.
He put his bag on the desk. He then took out each instrument, looking each one over like he never saw them before, with an ear-to-ear grin, as if it were Christmas and he got his Red Ryder BB gun, over and over again. Then he laid each one on the desk, delicately, like they might turn to dust. Every time he did this he stared at me, with a very sweet, sinister smile-he must have thought I was sweatin’ it out on the inside. I just puffed the last bit of my cigarette and glanced at my wristwatch. sweatin’ it out on the inside. I just puffed the last bit of my cigarette and glanced at my wristwatch.
The distant noise of cars roaring and burning rubber could be faintly heard through the high windows. It came closer and closer, Fists’ ears didn’ t even perk up, in a rat hole part of town like this, noise was usual. Then it stopped. Silence. Doc picked up his favorite toy, analyzed it, and gave me his deadly grin, I smiled back.“ You got the time?” It was 7:30, it was time. With a heavy thud, the lone door crashed to the floor. Doc’ s smile faded-mine didn’ t.
Almost There Gordon Kilarsky‘ 15
9 10