The Place---Chicago
The Time---1934
The Cast of Characters---(in order of appearance)
Christopher (Babyface) Kirkpatrick
"Fat Lou" Perlman
Juju (Mad Dog) Timberlake
JC (Twinkletoes) Chasez
Joey (Muscles) Fatone
Lance Bass, Cub Reporter
...and a Supporting Cast of---over-paid prima donnas!
* * * * *
In the end, they beat a hasty, inglorious retreat from the ballroom, because Twinkletoes made the mistake of thinking Chris could walk out by himself. Twinkletoes had hung back, just for a moment, in order to let Muscles in on the fact that Judge Foster was going to have himself quite a nasty spill in the parking lot later that evening. Nothing fatal, mind you, but a good bit of bruising, and as many small and grinding humilations as Fatone's fertile imagination could come up with.
Shouts made Twinkletoes look up from this hurried discourse, and he saw Babyface engaged in a heated discussion with the judge, again seated at his table with his female companions. "You want your frickin' suit back? Huh?" JC made his way through the crowds, and tables as quickly as he could.
"Oh! Oh! You think I WON'T--?" And Babyface was whipping his jacket off furiously, and lobbed it at the judge's head. He tore at the black tie, and was ripping down the buttons, when JC put his hands on his shoulders, and attempted to say something soothing. He got elbowed for his trouble, and Chris shouted, "You can HAVE your damn tailored shirt, and here's the money you gave me, ya freak of nature--" Bills fluttered down like crisp, autumn leaves.
To give him credit, Judge Foster remained composed, and only said, "I believe I also bought you that pair of French silk boxers." Hurriedly, Twinkletoes slung Babyface over his shoulder, and made for the main exit, a struggling, swearing, half-dressed man on your back not being the best dinner companion.
"Mr. Chasez!" an elegantly dressed matron addressed him. "Are you retiring, so early?"
"Mrs. Hogarth, regretfully, I must take my leave. My companion, Mr. Kirkpatrick here, feels unwell, and has expressed the wish that we may be invited back at another, more seasonable time."
"My compliments to the orchestra," Chris twisted around, so he could address Mrs. Hogarth. "They were really good."
Babyface and Mrs. Hogarth exchanged fluttery waves, as long as he was in sight.
$ $ $ $
And now it was a new morning. Two men stepped out of the bank, blinked in the strong sunshine, and then just stood and looked at each other. "Ya want Muscles to drive us back to Jimmy's, or do ya wanna walk?"
"Let's...walk for a bit," Chris said thoughtfully. At JC's signal, Muscles pulled the car away from the curb, and crawled along side them, as they strolled down the sidewalk. Chasez knew something was coming, but he didn't know what.
"First, let me say thanks. Even though "thanks" begins what I feel, but doesn't go all the way round, if you see what I mean. There isn't--anything I could ever do to say thanks enough, and, I just want you to know that I am aware of that..." Babyface seemed to be picking his way through a minefield.
"Yeah...? So, I accept your thanks. You're more than welcome, you know that."
Chris shot him an appraising look. "Uh-huh. You've just put $30,000 in my checking account. I say Thanks, you say You're Welcome. And...then what?"
"And then what--What? I don't know what you'er tryin' to say here, Babyface."
"Did you just buy me?"
JC stared.
"Have I just sold myself? In other words, I used to rent myself, which was bad enough, but at least I knew ownership reverted back to me at the end of the day, but now--for that amount of money, I figure you not only own me, but you can pass me down to your kids and grandkids as some kind of heirloom."
Stiffly, JC laughed, "You think you'll still be screwable in your sixties. Some ego you got there."
"Probably. Everyone says I get better looking as I get older, even Vincenzo, and he'd feed me to the fishes, if he ever got the chance."
JC stopped walking, rubbed his face, and took a deep breath. "Look. I know this is something that is outside anything you've ever known before. Someone doing something nice for you, and not wanting anything in return." JC put his hands on Babyface's shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "Believe me or don't. All I wanted to do, was to let you have freedom of choice, for once in your life. I DO want you to come live with me. Purely for my own pleasure, cause I like having you around. BUT--I'm not making you. You don't have to." JC let go then, and shoved his hands in his pockets, and started walking again.
After a few moments, Chris caught up with him. He shot suspicious looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "So...you're saying I DON'T have to come live with you?"
"Of course you don't have to."
"What, are you being some kind of a wise-guy, here?" Babyface snapped.
"You would just let me walk away, totally free?"
Tightly, JC said, "You heard me. I guess that makes me some kind of a sap. Hear a sob-story, try to be the hero, fix everything for everybody--I'll say this, Babyface, you're the first guy to play me for a fool. I won't take back the money. That's for those motherless girls. It's not their fault their brother is a cold-hearted bitch, who won't let himself trust nobody--"
"I never said I didn't trust you! All I'm sayin is--I- I'm just trying to figure out--"
"So, where will you go, if you're not coming with me?"
JC kept his eyes pointed straight ahead, so he didn't see the dropped jaw, and disappointment in the eyes of Babyface. After a long, long time, Chris mumbled something about California. "Always wanted to go there. I got enough for a bus ticket. Guess I can wash dishes, while I try to sell my script...I guess. Beats selling myself, anyday."
"Fine. Sounds like a plan. Should we drop you at Jimmy's?"
With a strangled voice, Chris said, "Don't put yerself out!" and he took off running.
$ $ $ $
Muscles was disgusted. Here they were driving aimlessly all over town, and the Boss didn't want to talk, he didn't want to grab a bite to eat, he didn't even want to get drunk, for cryin' out loud.
"Boss!" he tried again. "So, you wanna go back to your place, or what?"
"No, just keep driving."
"Like that's gonna help," Fatone said, under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothin' not a thing. Hey, did I tell you the judge was sniveling like a baby, by the time I got done with him. I asked him how it felt to get pushed around, and if HE liked it..."
The merest shadow of a smile haunted JC's lips, picturing that. "Good job, Muscles. You're a good--" and suddenly, a hand went over the blue eyes, shading them, and his jaw went rigid. All this, and more, Muscles saw in his rear-view mirror. Sighing, Muscles pulled the car over, and parked under a shade tree leaning out from the city curb.
"All right, that's it. That's all I can stands, I can't stands no more..." Fatone shook his head.
"What? Are you--"
"Boss, I want you to listen to me." Joey turned all the way around, and leaned over the seat, leveling a frank, and no-nonsense gaze at him. "I know you're the one with the fancy education, and good family and all, and I'm nothin' but a mook from the wrong side of the tracks. But when it comes to stuff like this, even *I* got more on the ball than YOU!"
As he gaped at Fatone in astonishment, JC waited for elucidation.
"Obviously, you and the Whore exchanged some words. I got the impression he was comin' back with us, and now he ain't, and you're acting like someone spit in your champagne. So, what happened? He tell ya to kiss off?"
"Yes." a beat, "No. Not in those words."
"So, what?"
"Muscles, I don't want to go into this. Babyface made it very plain that I'm nothing to him. After everything I've done for him, I'm nothing."
"You mean the saving his ass from Perlman thing?"
"Yeah! and the saving his ass from Mad Dog thing..."
"You just like saving his ass, I think, but that's none of my business. So you come out of the bank, it don't take Jules Verne to figure out you dropped some cash on him, and he says what?"
"Little bitch wants to know if I think I just bought him."
"Okay. So, did you?"
"NO."
"What are you gettin' sore about? It was just a question. A person can't ask a question?"
JC's mouth hung open. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Fatone raised an eyebrow. "If you wanna know what I think, I think you had a whole little scenario in your head, how it was gonna play out. You pictured Babyface throwin' himself at you, and bein' all grateful, and when that didn't happen, you got pissed off. He didn't react the way you thought he was supposed to."
"I--I--how can you think I would be that petty? That's not it, at all. He just-- he just didn't know how to act, and got all bitchy on me."
"He didn't know how to act. You just said it yourself. You gonna blame him for not knowing the proper way to act when somebody treats him decent?"
"Don't--" the hand was coming up again, to shade the eyes.
"Maybe you should-a been a little more patient, is all I'm sayin'..." this was stated softly, as Muscles turned around, and restarted the engine. As the motor began to purr, and they pulled back into the city traffic, JC's low voice asked, "Where we goin'?"
"To Jimmy the Weasel's. I got a hankerin' for some of Mama Weasel's cooking."
$ $ $ $
By the time, they turned onto Jimmy's street, JC Chasez was a bundle of nerves. It was all he could do to wait for the car to come to a complete stop, before hitting the pavement running. In fact, he was in such a hurry, he failed to notice the absence of the two men he'd assigned as guard detail for the front of the building. He ran inside, his eyes adjusting quickly to the customary gloom of the old- world style club. He looked about quickly for Jimmy, to ask him about Babyface. As soon as he spotted Jimmy, he made about three steps before halting in confusion. Jimmy, Mario, that new dishwasher, LanTed, Mama Weasel, and Vincenzo were all standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up, and in the same attitude of frozen tension. They stood in profile to Twinkletoes, and automatically, his eyes followed their line of vision, up past the first landing, and then turning, as it were, and on up to the top of the staircase. "Found my puppy," a whisper floated.
JC swallowed. Mad Dog had Babyface slung over his shoulder, and JC had to wince at that. Poor Babyface must really be getting tired of everybody doing that to him--he made a mental note to never do it again. Even if he got the chance. *Especially* if he got the chance.
Mad Dog had never looked more deserving of his name. He was absolutely filthy, with bits of dried grass in his tangled mop of hair, and his eyes shone with a frightening gleam. In his left hand, a gun hung loosely, as if he might drop it any minute. As if it was nothing to especially be careful of. Mad Dog looked down at his audience with a pleased stare. "Found my puppy," he repeated. "We're gonna go home now. Gonna play."
He walked down the stairs, easily, and used his gun hand on the banister for balance. He stopped at the landing, and Babyface took this opportunity to twist around and hoarsely call, "Jimmy! Jimmy, my life insurance policy is in the bottom drawer, okay? Can you make sure--" Just then, Mad Dog slid Babyface off his shoulders, and down on his own feet, turning him around so that his back was to Mad Dog's front, standing just in front of him. He slid the gun hand over his chest, and lightly hugged him with it. Mad Dog's right hand trailed down to Babyface's crotch.
Twinkletoes was aware of Joey's entrance, walking up behind him, and immediately sizing up the situation. "You want I should...?" he breathed.
"No, not yet. Wait. If we rush him--"
Meanwhile, Mad Dog was crouching over Chris, and his curls tickled him, because he turned his head abruptly, as if from a bad smell. Chris gently pushed at Timberlake's arm, but that only brought out The Giggle.
"Gonna tickle me? No-o-oh...I'm gonna tickle YOU." Every male in the building involuntarily sucked in his breath, in sympathy, as they watched Mad Dog's long, long fingers begin to fondle Babyface. JC felt Muscles grip his arm, and jerk back, so he must've stepped forward.
Babyface closed his eyes, and worked hard to keep his face blank. He could feel Mad Dog's breath on his chest, he was so far leaned over him. Worse, he could smell it, he didn't want to think about what the hell he had been eating, it was something long dead, judging by the smell... Meanwhile, Juju's face had a curiously blissful cast to it. The fact was, Mad Dog was an idiot-savant, when it came to administering pain. He was a maestro who knew each and every shade of difference in the cloudy valley between Pain and Mere Discomfort, and this was his favorite territory. Mad Dog loved to tease. He loved to make his victim so off-balance between uncomfortable and hurting, that it was an extra dimension of torture. He could judge every note of this horrible symphony by sound alone, by the rate of breathing, by skin temperature even. Mad Dog was a genius, in his own way...
And now he had his puppy to play with, and his soon his sensitive fingers were moving around and under Chris' balls,and Chris was leaning back into him, hissing.
As Chris moved from this involuntary sound, he clutched at Mad Dog's arm, and began to whimper. He shook his head, and whipped it back. " ...oh god..." JC's eyes started to prickle, and he again felt the steely grip of Muscles on his bicep. "I can't stand this..." The giggle floated down, and Juju smiled at his audience, pleased with his own efforts. He knew he was good at what he did, and it made him proud, in his own way. "My--yyy--yyy puppy..." he crooned. "Oh, look!" he broke off. "It's Mario." Mad Dog looked at JC, as if recognizing an old friend.
"Huh?" the real Mario asked.
"Never mind," JC whispered. "It's just what he calls me."
"Mario! Look! I found my puppy, aren't you happy for me?"
And that's when it came to him. Fight insanity with insanity.
"That's not your puppy!" he said loudly, firmly. "That's MY puppy."
Every head in the joint whipped around, and every set of eyes bugged out.
"What do you think you're doing with my puppy? I've been looking for him everywhere. Give him here," and Twinkletoes walked briskly over to the staircase. He was putting his foot on the first step, when Juju gave an angry cry, half-whine, and half-shriek.
"Nuh-uh! It's mine!" he spat. Gone was the glassy eyed bliss, in its place an angry watchfulness. But at least, JC noted, Mad Dog was standing straight now, his hand no longer curled around Babyface's crotch. Chris' eyes fluttered open, and he seemed to notice JC's presence for the very first time. The dark brown eyes struggled to focus on his face. His expression was unreadable.
"I SAID, give me my puppy!" JC made his voice firm, and reasonable.
"It's not yours, it's mine," Juju sounded like a spoiled child.
"Well, there's only one way to settle this," JC said. "We'll call him."
"Huh?"
"Bring him down here, and set him on the floor. We'll both call him, and whoever he goes to, is the rightful owner, right?" JC asked. Muscles was swearing under his breath, and Mama was petitioning Mary and Joseph, and everyone else was just staring at JC as if he had lost his mind. But there was Mad Dog, having hoisted Chris under his arm, coming down the steps, as if this was a great idea. He walked over to the center of the club, where there was a lot of open floor space. He set Chris down, and put his hand out, and commanded, "STAY." Babyface looked at him, blankly, but stood unmoving.
JC and Mad Dog walked to the front of the club, and both crouched down, and they began.
"Here, puppy, here puppy," they competed, to see who could sound more coaxing, and trustworthy. Chris had a pained expresson on his face, and shot a look at Jimmy, who shrugged eloquently. He looked from Mad Dog to JC, and wondered at what point the great mob boss had lost his marbles.
"HERE, puppy!" JC looked meaningfully at Chris. "Come to Daddy, that's a good boy, come on, come on..."
Just as if he wasn't psychotic at atll, Juju actually sounded darling and sweet, calling for his pet, "Come on, baby, come on sweetie, come 'ere, come 'ere" patting his thigh playfully. "Come on, bay-bee!"
After a dazed moment, Chris snapped out of it, and started walking over to JC. Halfway there, however, a strange expression came over his mobile face. Jimmy recognized it and groaned. It was the devilish look, that only forebode bad things.
Chris walked over, and suddenly acted all skittish. He got within a few feet of JC, and yelped as if he'd been hit, and scrambled back to his starting position. When JC's jaw dropped, Chris had to restrain a good laugh, and Muscles was heard to mutter, "I would SO be beating me a dog...." and he grabbed a news- paper and rolled it up, and smacked his own hand with it menacingly.
