The Place---Chicago
The Time----1934
The Cast of Characters----(in order of appearance)
Chris (Babyface) Kirkpatrick
"Fat Lou" Perlman
Juju (Mad Dog) Timberlake
JC (Twinkletoes) Chasez
Joey (Muscles) Fatone
Lance Bass, Cub Reporter
...and a supporting cast of thousands. Well, dozens. Actually, let's just see how it plays out, 'kay?
* * * * * *
It started out like any other day at Jimmy the Weasel's Legitimate Businessmen's Club. The ambience was cozy, what with the dim lighting, the enticing aromas drifting up from the dining room out back, the clickety- clack of the billiard balls, and always the surreptious whispers of the patrons enjoying the privacy of the wallside booths.
Jimmy enjoyed the peace and quiet. He looked up from his espresso, and nodded to Vincenzo the bartender. Vincenzo nodded back, and then cocked his head to the left. Jimmy followed his glance, and began to frown.
"Babyface!" he barked. "Get your keester over here, pronto."
"WHAT!?" Babyface slammed down the notebook he'd been jotting in. He stalked over to Jimmy, and stood looking down at him, like, Jimmy was some annoying kid brother, instead of his boss, and neighborhood terror.
"I don't see you workin' the joint. I see you scratching in that notebook of yours, but I don't see you chattin' up the clientele. This is not what I hired you for, Kirkpatrick."
Chris rolled his eyes. "What do you want from me? Everybody in here is straight. What am I supposed to do, convert 'em?"
Jimmy looked around the room. "The effort would be appreciated. Hey, I see Old Man Foster lurking over there in the corner."
"You do? Damn." Chris turned around and looked at the distinguished gentleman, calmly sipping at his coffee, while perusing the morning paper. Chris allowed himself a deep, deep sigh. "All RIGHT."
JImmy put out a hand onto Chris' sleeve. "You will let me know if I'm intruding on your valuable time, won't you? I wouldn't like to inconvenience you in any way."
"Well, actually....I was working on this one scene, and I think I just got to the point where---"
"Get Over There!" Jimmy raised his voice. "Damn pretentious, deluded kid. Think you're a writer? I'll be writin' your epitaph, if you don't go drum up some business for me right now..."
Jimmy went on in that vein for quite a while longer, but Chris paid him no mind. He was thoughtfully biting his thumbnail, as he sauntered over in the direction of Judge Foster's booth. Actually, Chris was kind of glad to see him. Chris had been experimenting on the judge for some time now, and he weighed his chances of success. Should he test his theory on him right here, right now? After a moment's thought, Chris reluctantly decided it was too soon. Ah well. maybe next time.
As it was, Chris sidled into the booth, and put his hand on the newspaper, slightly pulling it down. "Boo," he said softly. Judge Foster looked up in surprise, and then pleasure. "Babyface," he said, in equally low tones. "I didn't think I would see you up and about at this hour of the day. It's barely the crack of noon."
"Yeah, well," Chris shrugged. He smiled briefly. "So....what are you doing? Taking a break?" Abruptly, Chris leaned over the table, and whispered, "Say, Judge, is that a gavel in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?"
"Babyface!" the judge looked alarmed. "Someone might hear you. Please. Discretion."
Chris looked at him blandly. "Oh, I got all the discretion you can handle. Want to come up?" Chris cocked his head at him, and tried to restrain a smug smile. He never had to ask twice.
"Well, I--I--really don't have the time---"
"Mm-hmm. I'll go up first. Don't make me wait too long." And Chris slid out of the booth, and ambled toward the staircase. He went up a few steps, and looked back carelessly. When he saw Foster's gaze on him, he deliberately didn't smile, but looked thoughtful; turned, and walked slowly up the rest of the stairs, just taking his time.
Chris had barely made it to his room, sat down on the bed, and begun to loosen his tie, and shrug off his suspenders, when he heard the Judge's familiar one-two-three rap on the door. He allowed himself a smirk, before opening the door.
"Oh Babyface!" the judge breathed, as he gathered Chris in his arms, and began what Chris thought of as "feeling him up." Over his shoulder, Chris made his usual faces, which he slid from his face like a magician's trick, when ever he had to face the elderly man.. "Ya missed me, huh?" Chris murmured. "That's swell, Judge. I missed you too...want me to show you how much?"
Judge Foster groaned.
And here's where Chris' experimenting had begun. He couldn't help but notice that if he always kept to a particular ritual, and never deviated from it, that Judge Foster would reach his climax slightly sooner than he had the last time. Chris' ultimate aim was to get the Judge so conditioned, that all he had to do was smile THAT smile, and the jurist would stain his pants on the spot. "I kind dream, can't I?" Chris thought to himself. "Even Jimmy would have to like that kind of effiency."
Chris gracefully sank to his knees in front of Foster, and hesitantly began fumbling with the buttons of his fine wool trousers. He looked up at the judge, and gave him the innocent-gone-so-so-wrong look he always began with.
"Uh, uh, Babyface," the judge started. "IF you don't mind, could you not look at me this time?"
"What? But you love it when I look at you." Chris pretended hurt.
"Yes, yes....but I'm afraid I love it TOO much, if you see what I mean."
Damn! The old codger was catching on. Damn, damn, damn. Chris scowled, as he looked down. I'll actually have to *work* this time, he thought. What a way to make a living.
It was only ten minutes later, but feeling ten times longer than that to Chris, when Judge Foster was hitching up his pants, smudging a hurried kiss on Chris' forehead, and pushing a ten-dollar bill in to his hand. "Thank you, thank you, my boy. You make an old man feel young again."
Want a bet? Chris thought sourly.
* * * * * * *
"So how's my favorite example of jurisprudence?" Jimmy smiled at Chris. "The old man can still make a motion? I bet he filed *your* brief, didn't he?"
Chris was still miffed, at his beautiful experiment going up in flames. "I hold him in contempt. Where does he get off, wising up like that?"
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Listen, I'm going out back, to grab a bite to eat--"
"Hold it, hold it. Get a load of what just walked in."
And to a man, every head in the joint turned to take in the un-nerving sight of "Fat Lou" Perlman and his demented sidekick "Mad Dog" as they strolled in, and took up space in the doorway. The two of them calmly surveyed the interior of the club, just as if they had been coming there for years, instead of for the very first time.
"Damn it," Jimmy muttered under his breath. "I better play the gracious host, until I figure out their angle. Listen, Babyface, hang around, will ya? I might need an extra pair of hands before this is through."
"Huh, what, me?" Chris was shocked. "I'm just the boy-toy. I'm a lover, not a fighter, remember? You got me mixed up with Vincenzo or something."
But Jimmy was already moving forward, and shaking Perlman's hand, as if they were old friends. "And this is----?"
Perlman smiled. "This is my associate, Mr. Juju Timberlake."
The alarmingly tall young man with the glittering blue eyes said, "Call me Mad Dog. Everyone does." and then he giggled.
A shiver went down the spines of everyone in listening distance. Chris had just begun his patented, backwards Escape Glide, when he was spotted. Lou stepped forward, and asked Jimmy, "And THIS is----?"
"This is, er, my employee, Mr. Christopher Kirkpatrick. He--entertains many of our guests here at the club."
Chris couldn't resist saying, "But call me Babyface. Everyone does." and he capped it off with a dead-on replica of Timberlake's demented giggle.
Only the sound of gasps greeted this evidence of deadly cheek.
After a moment, Timberlake made a show of bending down, and peering in Chris' face. He stared in silence. Chris returned the dead-eyed stare, as if he weren't inwardly cursing his sick sense of humor, which sure enough, was getting him in trouble, as he'd been warned a million times.
Fat Lou broke the stalemate, by a sudden guffaw of laughter. "Where did you find this little piss-ant, Jimmy? Got a lot of rocks for a prettyboy."
Jimmy pretended to relax, and chuckle. "Oh yeah, Babyface keeps us in stitches all the time. Don't ya, Babyface?" and he quickly gave Chris a dirty look.
"Yeah, I never know when to quit," Chris nodded. "Well, I was just leaving, so, it was nice meeting you guys, and---"
"No, no, no," Lou said. "Jimmy, show us a booth, and I insist that Mr. Kirkpatrick join Mad Dog and me for lunch. All nice and cozy-like."
"Heh-heh," Chris tried to smile. "COZY-like."
