5: Sy's Deal

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id53.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: New Orleans"><U><B>1:  New Orleans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: Mary Margaret"><U><B>2:  Mary Margaret</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U><B>3:  Rumrunners' Row</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Speakeasy"><U><B>4:  Speakeasy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>5:  Sy's Deal</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U><B>6:  Reunion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Disaster"><U><B>7:  Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Petofi"><U><B>8:  Petofi</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U><B>9:  Cuddeback</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Angelique"><U><B>10:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U><B>11:  Making Plans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U><B>12:  Chicago</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Nora"><U><B>13:  Nora</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U><B>14:  The Gypsy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U><B>15:  The Trap</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: The Gift"><U><B>16:  The Gift</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U><B>17:  Beth</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U><B>18:  Together Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id75.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: Petofi Strikes"><U><B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>5:  Sy's Deal</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> Edward went to London the first week in November, and Quentin went straight up to Maine, travelling on the train to Boston and then changing over to the local that went to Collinsport.  He brought sheet music with him as a gift for Ruth.  He thought she'd like them--they were right from Tin Pan Alley.  Jamison met him at the station, driving the Rolls.  They were both excited, but Quentin was nervous about going home for the first time in almost thirty years.</div> <div> He hesitated at the front door.  "Don't be scared," Jamison said, understanding.  "Everything is different.  And you can trust Walsh to be discreet.  He's the family 'gentleman's gentleman.'  Do you remember when Father thought…"</div> <div> "Jamison, bringing that up will only make me feel more nervous about going in there," Quentin interrupted.  He didn't want to think about any of it.</div> <div> "Sorry," Jamison said. The butler, Walsh, was right there when they entered the foyer, and he took their coats.  As Jamison was shrugging his off, Quentin looked to see if Barnabas' portrait was still hanging.  It was.  Jamison didn't understand the intense look on Quentin's face as he stared at the portrait.  "Come on," he said cheerfully.  "I left Ruth and Elizabeth in the conservatory.  That's the brightest room in the whole house, now."  </div> <div> As they walked down the hall, Quentin could hear Elizabeth's child's voice piping along with Ruth's throatier one:  "Toot, toot tootsie, goodbye.  Toot, toot tootsie, don't cry."</div> <div> "Daddy, daddy!"  Elizabeth cried excitedly, running and jumping into Jamison's arms.  The child always seemed to be dancing and excited about everything.  Quentin wondered if he'd been like that at six. He really didn't remember much about his early childhood except for being so sick and the death of his mother and sister. He sat down next to Ruth on the piano bench, deciding he really didn't want to think about that, either.</div> <div> "You must know this one," he said, and began playing "Yes, We Have No Bananas."  Elizabeth immediately began singing the words, and Ruth, Jamison, and Quentin joined in.  </div> <div> "Play some of that other music for Ruth," Jamison asked after they'd sung the song and laughed together.  "Play what you play when all the people leave."  So Quentin began playing, enjoying himself.</div> <div> Ruth was delighted.  "Why do you wait for all the people to go?"</div> <div> "This is just a hobby.  It's just for fun," Quentin explained.  "I'm not trying to make a living at it."</div> <div> "Father would love to have a musician in the family," Jamison said ironically, and Quentin gave him a "shut up" look.</div> <div> "Grandfather likes music.  He sings 'Twinkle, twinkle' really good," Elizabeth said.  Quentin played it, and Elizabeth sang the words. Then he produced the sheet music he'd gotten for Ruth.  "I know you like music, so I brought this for you."</div> <div> Ruth was delighted.  "Thank you, Franky, that was so sweet."  She kissed him on the cheek and looked at the music.  Quentin played another tune.  After looking at both sheets, Ruth said, "Would you let me, please?"  Quentin took his hands off the keys and got up.  "Jamison, come sit by me," Ruth asked.  She sounded excited, like a child.</div> <div> Jamison took his place on the bench beside Ruth.  "I'm going to try this.  It's not perfect, because it's the first time I'm giving this a try," she said.</div> <div> Jamison just grinned.</div> <div> Ruth began to play, looking over at Jamison now and then as she read the lyrics, and sang in a slightly exaggerated sultry voice:</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> "Why do I do, just as you say</div> <div> Why must I just, give you your way</div> <div> Why do I sigh, why don't I try - to forget</div> <bR> <div> It must have been, that something lovers call fate</div> <div> Kept me saying: "I have to wait"</div> <div> I saw them all, just couldn't fall - 'til we met</div> <bR> <div> It had to be you, it had to be you</div> <div> I wandered around, and finally found - the somebody who</div> <div> Could make me be true, and could make me be blue</div> <div> And even be glad, just to be sad - thinking of you</div> <bR> <div> Some others I've seen, might never be mean</div> <div> Might never be cross, or try to be boss</div> <div> But they wouldn't do</div> <div> For nobody else, gave me a thrill - with all your faults, I love you still</div> <div> It had to be you, wonderful you</div> <div> It had to be you"</div> <bR> <div> For all that Ruth might have been kidding around as she sang, the love in her eyes were sincere.  A slow flush crept across Jamison's face as she sang.  Quentin felt himself becoming warm, too, trying not to gawk.  He thought again what a lucky man Jamison was. When she was finished singing, Jamison kissed her, very tenderly and whispered in her ear.  They both laughed, embarrassed, and Jamison looked around at Quentin.</div> <div> "Can you do a Charleston song?"  Jamison asked.  To his wife, he said, "They're doing this dance all over New York now."</div> <div> "I've heard of it," Ruth said enthusiastically.</div> <div> "I can, but it sounds better with a horn.  I should bring Dave with me next time," Quentin said.</div> <div> "You bet!  Bring him!  We'll shake the walls of old Collinwood!"  Jamison agreed immediately.</div> <div> And so Dave came to Collinwood, too.  He'd never seen anything like it and was suitably impressed.  "You say you got forty rooms here?"  he asked incredulously.  "Whatcha need so many for?"</div> <div> "To hide in," Quentin replied with a grin.  At Dave's confused look, he said, "From each other.  You know.  So we don't have to see each other."  Dave just wagged his head back and forth, and Quentin knew that he didn't really "get" the need to hide from other family members.  He rapped at the door, and Walsh admitted them.  His expression changed only a little; a slight lifting of the brows but he was too well bred to show his surprise at seeing Dave.  Once again, he took their coats.  Quentin led the way to the conservatory.</div> <div> Elizabeth saw them first, and ran to Quentin.  "Cousin Frank! What did you bring me?" she squealed with delight, jumping into his arms.</div> <div> Jamison and Ruth rolled their eyes indulgently as they came forward to meet Quentin and Dave, who was looking around the room with huge eyes.  "Elizabeth," Ruth said in a mildly reproving voice as Quentin produced a lollipop.  "Frank, you shouldn't spoil her like that.  You don't have to give her a gift every time you come."</div> <div> "I don't mind," Quentin said. "Dave, this is Jamison and Ruth and Elizabeth.  Family, this is my friend, Dave Fisher." </div> <div> Ruth, Jamison, and Dave all shook hands. Dave looked at Jamison closely and then at Quentin but didn't say anything other than, "Pleased to meet you."</div> <div>  Elizabeth had taken the lollipop and had slid out of his arms, but he noticed that she made no move to unwrap it.  She was staring, quite frankly, at Dave.  It was so obvious, that Dave stopped looking around the room and made eye contact with the little girl.  Her parents shifted their feet uncomfortably.  Jamison seemed about ready to speak, but then Dave stepped forward.</div> <div>       Crouching down in front of Elizabeth, Dave smiled at her and asked:  "What would you like to know, little lady?"</div> <div>      "What happened to you?"  Elizabeth blurted.</div> <div> "Nothing happened to him, Elizabeth," Ruth answered, looking mortified. </div> <div> "It's all right," Dave said kindly.  He looked back at Elizabeth and asked, "You've never met someone like me before, have you, little lady?  There's nothing to be embarrassed about.  I am a Negro.  I am not that much different from your daddy or mama or your Cousin Frank except that their skin is white like yours, and mine is black."  He showed me his hands.  "Go ahead, you can touch.  It won't rub off."</div> <div> Elizabeth very cautiously touched his hand and then looked at her fingers.  Her eyes widened, and she looked at him with wonder.  She seemed to be realizing that although his hair was very curly and close cropped and his eyes were very brown, he really was just a man like other white men. "Here, want to see something?": he continued, gently.  He pulled his trumpet case around and opened it.  The instrument gleamed.  "Want to hold it?"</div> <div> Wide-eyed, the child nodded.  Dave picked the trumpet up and put it into her hands.  He explained how it worked, showing her the valves.  "Try. Blow into it."  Elizabeth blew, but nothing came out.  She looked at him. "It's magic," he said with a grin.  "Watch."  He took it, stood up and blew a few notes.  She was impressed.  He laughed and said, "It's not really magic, little lady.  Just takes practice.  Here, I'll show you something really fun.  This here is the spit valve."  Elizabeth was suitably awed.  Behind her, Jamison and Ruth were trying not to laugh now.  Everyone had been put at ease.</div> <div> After that, and all through the winter of 1924-25, Quentin and Dave continued to visit at Collinwood whenever Edward was away.  They would also go to Long Island when Jamison and the family came to visit, and they would get together at Quentin's apartment and go around together, visiting different clubs and generally enjoying themselves.  At the same time, Jamison had made a connection with a certain businessman in Canada, who represented a European bank. </div> <div> The businessman was able to secure good quality scotch, whiskey, gin, and whatever else Quentin and Jamison asked for.  They paid the connection anywhere from $8-$10 for a case of liquor.  The liquor went into a false bottom on the floor of the taxicab Larry Fay had loaned Quentin.  Cholly and Quentin took turns playing the roles of driver and passenger.  Sometimes Dave came in Cholly's place, and they would put on a big act--Dave would dress in a uniform and Quentin would wear a tux.  They enjoyed fooling the border guards.  The liquor would be driven to whoever had requested it.  Jamison and Quentin agreed not to profit off family members--but they didn't mind charging premium to the other local pub/club owners, and no one complained because the liquor was quality.  They never saw a need to cut the liquor with anything else because the point wasn't profit (although the money was very nice).  Dave may have taken the whole thing seriously, but Jamison, Cholly, and Quentin didn't--it was like a game to them.</div> <bR> <div>      In the spring, Cholly suggested another club that was located in the Lower East Side.  It was called the SideCar, and it was also one of Sy's three clubs.  It was a rougher and more exciting place to be for the nights when they felt like hell raising.  One night when Sy was there (he usually kept himself busy in his club in Brooklyn), he joined them at their table.  "I've been wanting to talk to you guys," he said, quietly, indicating he wanted to talk privately.  He had a little private office in the back.  He sat down behind his desk, pulled open a drawer and pulled out a bottle.  He grinned at them.  "Recognize this?"</div> <div>      Quentin shrugged, but Cholly said, "Where'd you get that?"</div> <div>      "One of your customers.  Listen, Cholly, and I are friends from way back, Frank.  He talks to me.  I hope you don't mind," Sy said.</div> <div>      "Well, that depends on what we're going to talk about," Quentin said, looking at Cholly.  Cholly looked embarrassed.</div> <div>      "I want to talk about making a deal with you guys," Sy said.  Quentin began to relax visibly.  It crossed his mind that Sy might attempt to blackmail them into giving them some of their supply, but it didn't seem that way.  "Now, I've got a regular supplier for my places, but I don't care for the stuff.  It's cut.  What I hear is, you guys are like Bill McCoy used to be.  You don't mess with the quality."</div> <div>      "That's true," Quentin agreed.</div> <div>      "Well, all I want to know is--would you mind bringing me back a few samples of what you carry?  I'll pay you, of course, and this would be for my own personal stash. Even so, this is something we want to keep off the cuff, you understand?"</div> <div>      "Sure," they both agreed.  It at least answered one question Quentin had been wondering about--why Sy hadn't asked them to supply him. He already had a supplier, but that shouldn't cause a problem, Quentin thought.  Maybe if Sy liked their stuff, he wouldn't mind splitting his business.  Anyway, it wasn't going to hurt anything.</div> <bR> <div>      At Easter the following spring, Larry decided to have a big party to celebrate spring and the early beginning of another party season.  He asked Quentin to bring his musician friends, invited Jamison, Ruth, John and Ellen--and even the children.  He'd decided to hire someone to wear a rabbit suit and to have an Easter egg hunt for the children.  Quentin was amused, because the man just wasn't the type to throw this kind of party.  However, the lawns were full of squealing children, and the liquor flowed freely to their parents.  As usual, Larry hung around on the fringes, quietly observing.  He'd even had enough forethought to arrange for a place for the children to play and rest as the afternoon wore on toward evening.  </div> <div>      Guests continued to arrive all day and into the evening.  Larry had arranged for caterers to bring in platters of food for his guests, and he had tables with white linen cloths set up everywhere.  In between sets, Quentin tried to get to Jamison and his family to chat.  He managed to help Roger and Elizabeth find a couple of eggs.  Only nine months old, Roger was determined to walk--although he still needed an adult to hold onto his chubby little hands.  The day was a blur to Quentin; everything moved fast--the people, the liquor.  He was enjoying himself thoroughly though, and the only unpleasant surprise was returning from a break to find Cholly gone.  "What happened?" he asked.</div> <div>      "Sick, he got sick. Says he can't go on," Dave replied tersely.  Quentin's eyebrows shot up.  "Maybe he got bad stuff into him.  Don't worry, we can play without him."</div> <div>      "That's not what I was thinking.  Is he all right?  Where is he?"</div> <div>      "In yonder," Dave replied, nodding at the house.  "Don't go lookin now, Frank.  We got to start the next set."</div> <div>      So Quentin waited for the next break, and then he went inside the large house.  People were milling around everywhere, and apparently Larry had given everyone the run of his house.  He wondered where Cholly could've gone.  He started checking into some of the rooms, hoping he wouldn't disturb anyone.  Then it occurred to him that at a nice place like Larry's, people wouldn't behave like that here.  He opened the door onto a small study.  There was a sofa there, facing away from the door.  Maybe--Quentin went into the room quietly, and peered over to see if Cholly was lying there.</div> <div>      He was, but there was something noticeably wrong with him.  He was hugging himself tightly and seemed to be frozen.  "Cholly?"</div> <div>      Cholly let his breath out explosively and relaxed.  He looked up at Quentin with a pale face.  "Oh, Frank," he said, sounding extremely relieved.</div> <div>      "Are you okay?  What's wrong?"</div> <div>      "I feel sick to my stomach.  I think I might have a virus or something."</div> <div>      "A virus?  You seemed fine before.  Did you shoot up a little while ago?  Maybe you got some bad stuff into you."</div> <div>      "It's not that, honestly, Frank.  I wouldn't be able to talk to you if that was it.  I just got sick to my stomach.  I just need to lie here and rest, okay?  I'll be all right, you go on.  Just don't tell anyone where I am."</div> <div>      Quentin looked at his strained face doubtfully.  "Are you sure, Cholly?"</div> <div>      "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.  Please go on.  If I need anything, I'll come find you."</div> <div>      Quentin shrugged.  "Okay.  Come back when you're feeling better."</div> <div>      "I will.  And Frank?"  Quentin stopped at the door and looked at the back of the sofa.  Cholly's voice was soft and oddly pleading.  "Shut the door. And don't tell anyone I'm here."</div> <div>      Almost as soon as Quentin was out the door, he'd forgotten about Cholly.  He went back to the bandstand and found Larry standing there, with two well-dressed men.  "Was wondering where you went," Larry began. "I want to introduce you to some friends of mine.  This is Ed Smith and this is George Haussner.  They wanted to meet you."  Quentin said hello and shook hands with the two men.</div> <div>      "Mr. Fay tells us that you brought this little band here today," said Mr. Smith.</div> <div>      "They're all friends of mine.  They play in the city, usually," Quentin answered.</div> <div>      "Let me explain," Mr. Haussner cut in.  "I have a resort in Westchester--we get pretty busy over the summer.  We always need band players to fill in on the weekends, especially.  Mr. Smith--Smitty, that is--leads the orchestra at my resort, and we've been scouting for guys to fill in."</div> <div>      Quentin was surprised and looked it.  "I've been listening, and I think you fellas play well enough to play with our orchestra sometimes," the man named Smitty added.  "What do you say?"</div> <div>      Quentin laughed.  "Well, I'm flattered, of course, but we'll have to talk to all of them.  We're not a real band, you know, we're just jamming here.  The guys play regularly at other clubs in New York."</div> <div>      "Well, bring them over and let's see what they say," said Smitty.</div> <div>      The other friends played it cool, but Quentin could see by the look in their eyes that they were excited.  Dave pretended to be very casual about the whole thing.  "When would you need us?  We get booked up really quick."</div> <div>      Smitty looked like he was holding back a laugh.  "Memorial Day weekend, to start.  After that--weekends through the summer."</div> <div>      "Mind if we talk about this?" Dave asked.  </div> <div>      Smitty shrugged.  "Take whatever time you need.  Just let me know before we go."  He and Mr. Haussner moved off.</div> <div>      "THINK about it?  You crazy, man?" Jack hissed.</div> <div>      "Whoo-ee!"  Dave exclaimed.</div> <div>      "Why didn't you just come out and say yes?" Quentin asked.  </div> <div>      "Look, guys, just leave it to me.  I know what I'm doing," Dave said.  "Get your heads together.  Make like we're talking serious about this here."</div> <div>      "Westchester!  Rich people live out there!  Haven't ever been out there!" George exclaimed.  "We'd be playing for REALLY rich white folks, right?  The ones that vacation all the time out there?  Man, that is something!  And he wants us to go up there!"</div> <div>      "How do you get there?" Jack wondered.</div> <div>      "By train or car, fool, how do you think?"  Dave retorted.</div> <div>      "That'd be nice, specially if they have a place for the help to stay.  Lots of places to swim and fish up there, I heard," George said.</div> <div>      Quentin didn't say anything.  He'd taken vacation resorts for granted--they were playgrounds for rich people, that was true.  He looked around for Jamison and Ruth.</div> <div> "Frank, you paying attention?  You planning on playing with us?"</div> <div>      "Umm--" Quentin thought.  Did he?  He wasn't sure he wanted to commit himself to every weekend of the summer.  There were too many other fun things to do--like running up to Canada.  It occurred to him that Westchester would provide a convenient place to stop on a run back.  "Why not?"  He shrugged.  It would work.  He didn't do anything but party and make runs during the week anyway.</div> <bR> <div>      By the time Memorial Day rolled around, Quentin and his partners were keeping themselves busy enough to work in shifts.  Sy asked for more and more to add to his stash, which required more trips because they were also supplying John and other small club owners on Long Island on a regular basis.  The week of the holiday, Sy approached Quentin and Cholly and asked for a whole load full of liquor.  They were surprised, but when Sy named his price, they couldn't turn him down. Looking back on it later, Quentin realized that Cholly never drove with him when they were carrying liquor for Sy.  It was always Dave who went with him; Cholly was always unavailable for one reason or the other.</div> <div>      "Listen, this is gonna be for a big surprise party I'm havin," Sy was saying.  "I really wanna make sure we keep this under our hats.  I'm gonna give you a different address where I want you to drop the stuff off, hey?  It ain't gonna be down here; it'll be in the Bronx."  He seemed to be very secretive but if this were for some big surprise party, naturally he'd want to be cautious. </div> <div> Both Dave and Cholly had to play with the band that weekend, so Quentin asked Jamison to make the run with him.  He explained that they could run out to Westchester later after making the drop at the Bronx and stay the night.  Maybe Ruth would want to meet them there.  Jamison was willing, but he felt pretty sure that Ruth would want to stay over elsewhere.  As much as she enjoyed parties, she preferred to be around her family rather than staying at a hotel or resort.</div> <div> Because of the holiday, the guards at the border were even more relaxed than usual.  They barely attempted to stop Quentin and Jamison, who were laughing with delight as they crossed over into New York.  "This was the easiest it's ever been!"  Even better still, they were making the trip in the early morning hours and didn't have to contend with the winding roads, which could be teacherous.  There was the bare beginnings of a highway system beginning to be built but even those that existed, like the Hutchinson River Parkway in Westchester County, still curved back and forth sharply.  It was a real adventure at night.</div> <div> They reached the Bronx by the early afternoon, and found Sy and two friends waiting.  Sy seemed very nervous.  "No Cholly?" he asked.  "Where's the spade?"</div> <div> "Both playing in the band today," Quentin explained.  "You don't have to worry about him.  He's family."</div> <div> "Okay, okay, it's just real important that all this stays quiet, you know, because of the surprise.  Well, let's go," Sy said.  He was obviously in a hurry, and the five men unloaded the taxi as quickly as they could.  Sy handed over a wad of bills to Quentin.  "Thanks, kid.  If this party goes well, I'll be callin you for the Fourth of July holiday."</div> <div> "Sure thing," Quentin said agreeably.  He and Jamison got into the cab and drove off, heading for Rt. 1, which would take them to the Hutchinson River Parkway. "Want to pick Ruth up first?" he asked. "Better say so now."</div> <div> "She decided to pass on tonight," Jamison answered.  "She's been feeling a little sick to her stomach lately, Quentin.  I don't know, I have this feeling…"</div> <div> "You're kidding!" Quentin exclaimed, delighted.</div> <div> Jamison grinned, somewhat abashed.  "It's funny, we weren't sure we'd have any more children after Elizabeth was born.  She lost one, and then it was so long before she got pregnant with Roger."  He looked at Quentin.  "I'm sure hoping that's what it is, though!"</div> <div> Mr. Haussner's resort was an imposing looking castle-like structure overlooking the river.  It looked more like a prison than a playland, but looks were deceiving in this case.  It was the first weekend of the summer season, and the party was most definitely underway.  Jamison and Quentin felt they especially had good reason to celebrate and got started just as soon as they got there.</div> <div> "We've gotta find Dave and the other guys and tell them," Quentin declared, carrying a scotch bottle.  "Come on.  I'll show you where the 'help' stays, Jamison."</div> <div> There were small cottages behind the main building.  Quentin remembered which cottage Dave told him he'd been assigned.  He pounded on the door.  "Hey, you in there, Dave?  Come on out and celebrate with us!"</div> <div> Dave opened the door, blinking and squinting in the afternoon sunshine.  "You boys just get back from Canada?  Make your big score?"</div> <div> "Even better than that--we think Jamison is going to be a daddy again!  Come on, join us, Dave!"</div> <div> "Well, shoot, I got to have one drink for that!" Dave said, a wide grin splitting his face.  He took the bottle from Quentin and held it up to Jamison.  "Here's to the new baby Collins!"  He tilted the bottle back and took a swallow.  Then he handed it back to Quentin, wiping the back of his mouth.</div> <div> "Now there'd better be a new baby Collins," Jamison laughed.  "I'd hate to think we were drinking this good scotch for a stomach ache!"</div> <div> "Let's drink to that, too," Quentin said agreeably.</div> <div> "I'll pass on that, thanks," Dave said.  "Gotta play later.  But you boys have fun."  His eyes widened a little as he watched Quentin tip the bottle back again.  "Son, slow down!  You get yourself too drunk, you gonna have to lie out here.  You won't be in no condition to get back to the city."</div> <div> "Might have to take you up on that, buddy," Quentin said.  He and Jamison went off in search of a place to sit down and finish off their bottle.</div> <div> As they walked across the lawn, Quentin noticed Larry Fay standing with a couple.  He did a double take and realized he recognized the man.  He poked Jamison.  "Hey!  Isn't that Joe?"</div> <div> Jamison looked.  "Yes, with his wife.  Be discreet, Quentin.  You're not supposed to know him, you know."</div> <div> "Right.  And it's Frank."</div> <div> "I know," Jamison said loftily.  "I was trying to make a point.  Get it?"</div> <div> He got it, all right.  He stared curiously at the couple, wondering who they really were. "She's going to have a baby?"</div> <div> "I wouldn't doubt it.  They have about five now, I guess. She has one a year, it seems.  You know how it is with the Catholics," Jamison said, sounding disinterested.</div> <div> Quentin looked at him, surprised.  He could imagine Edward saying something like that.  "How is it with Catholics, Jamison?" he asked, curiously.</div> <div> "Well, they--" Jamison began and suddenly blushed.  "Oh, my God.  I can't believe I actually said that, with Ruth's family and all!  Sometimes these things just slip out, and I don't know where they come from."</div> <div> "It sounds like something your father would say," Quentin said.</div> <div> "God Almighty!" Jamison exclaimed.  Then he laughed.  "It's funny, you know.  I always said I would never be like my father at all, and sometimes I think I'm more like him than I thought!"  When Quentin frowned, he went on, "He's close-minded, yes, and stubborn, and he has his ideas of proper behavior.  All those things are true.  But I'll tell you something--under all that is a decent, loving man.  I've only begun to realize that.  And I don't mind if I look like him now, or if I sound like him--unless I say something really stupid."</div> <div> "For Christ's sake, Jamison," Quentin muttered, drinking from the bottle again.  He watched as a uniformed waiter approached Larry Fay and handed him a note.  Fay read the note and crushed it.  He seemed to be making an excuse to Joe and his wife, and strode off rapidly toward the main building.  "A decent, loving man?"</div> <div> Jamison tugged the bottle away from him.  "Let's not go round and round about this today, hey?"  He took a drink from the bottle himself.  "All I know is what I know about him now.  You should see him with the kids.  He gets down on his hands and knees and gives the kids horsie rides."</div> <div> Quentin was about to make a disbelieving retort, but he had a sudden flash of a memory--riding on the shoulders of his older brother and then being tossed onto his bed.  He also remembered Carl jumping up and down, his nightshirt flapping, wanting his own turn.  He shook his head.</div> <div> "Damn you, Quentin, do you have to be so stubborn?  He's getting old.  And he really is so different--"</div> <div> Quentin pulled the bottle back.  It was almost empty.  He drained it.  "Listen, I wouldn't know what to say to him.  It's been too many years, Jamison.  There's too much bad blood between us.  Just let it go."  He looked around for a place to deposit the bottle and gave up.  "Come on.  Let's get another one of these and find the rest of the party."</div> <div> He and Jamison managed to find both another bottle of scotch, two glasses for decorum, and an unoccupied table to sit at.  He was vaguely aware of Fay striding by, glaring in their direction.  It was a glare, too, and noticeable enough for Quentin to shift uncomfortably, wondering what was wrong.  Maybe Fay thought he ought to be playing--but it was really too early and, besides, someone else was playing the piano this weekend in his place.  Quentin felt a little light-headed, realizing he'd almost forgotten he wasn't at Great Neck.  He thought about approaching Fay and asking what was wrong but was distracted and soon forgot.</div> <div> By the time dinnertime rolled around, he and Jamison were royally drunk.  "Y'better call Ruth an' tell her you're stayin the night," Quentin suggested, slurring his words.</div> <div> "I haven't spent a night away from her 'cept the nights the babies were born," Jamison answered.  "An' I ain't gonna start now. I ain't so very drunk, coz.  I can drive."</div> <div> "The hell.  I can't drive, an' if I know I can't, you sure as hell can't cuz you can't drink like I can," Quentin declared.</div> <div> "Oh, yeah?  An how the hell do you know what I can or cannot do?" Jamison snapped truculently.</div> <div> "Well, lemme see you walk a line then," Quentin challenged.</div> <div> Jamison stood up, swaying.  He staggered, weaving to the left.  Quentin laughed and went after him.  He was weaving too, possibly just a little less than his nephew was.  "Hey, c'mon, c'mon," he urged, pulling Jamison along with him.</div> <div> "Where we goin?"</div> <div> "We're gonna call and tell them we're on the way," Quentin said, lying right through his teeth.</div> <div> "Thass much better.  I tole you I could drive!"</div> <div> Jamison lolled in a stuffed chair while Quentin stood a discreet distance away and used the house phone to call Ruth in Glen Cove.  "Listen, Ruthie, Jamison and I have had too much to drink," Quentin explained.  "He wansa drive back, but he really shouldn't.  We can stay here, thass not a problem."</div> <div> "Lord, Franky, how much have you two been drinking?" Ruth teased.  "Listening to you, I can just imagine what kind of shape Jamison is in!  Why don't you get some supper into the two of you?  If I leave now, I should be there in a few hours.  I'll drive Jamison back.  You too, if you'd like to stay over with us."</div> <div> "Oh, now wa' a minute, Ruth," Quentin protested. "Y'don't need to do that--"</div> <div> "Frank, I know my Jamison and he won't give you any peace if you don't let him drive back.  You better tell him I'm coming.  Trust me."</div> <div> Quentin thought she would know--after all, she lived with the man.  And if Jamison really was like Edward…"Geez, I'm sorry you gotta come all this way, Ruth, in your condition…"</div> <div> There was a startled silence, and then she laughed gaily.  "Jamison has a big mouth!  We're not sure yet, Frank.  Don't worry, it's no bother."  After a pause, she added, "In fact, I'm thankful you did call.  Somebody else would've just let him drive." </div> <div> After she rang off, Quentin returned to find Jamison half-dozing.  "Hey, hey!  Ruth's coming up to party with us!"</div> <div> "She is?"  Jamison was delighted.  "Oh, that's swell."</div> <div> "Let's get some dinner.  And coffee," Quentin suggested.</div> <div> "Coffee?  The party's just starting!  Come on!  Let's go get another bottle!"  Jamison got up and managed to make his way out of the room.  Quentin shrugged and followed him.  He stopped short as he made eye contact with Larry Fay, who was standing in an open doorway.  Fay had a closed expression on his face, as if he was trying very hard to control his anger.  A group of men came down the hall, their backs to Quentin.  They were speaking in low angry tones.  Fay ushered them into the room.  He hadn't stopped looking at Quentin once.  He shut the door.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Although Quentin had managed to convince Jamison to try a little coffee, they were both extremely inebriated by the time Ruth arrived.  She couldn't find them at first; taking a break, Dave got in the car with her and directed her down the driveway which led to the back of the main house. Ruth parked the car, and allowed Dave to lead her to the steps of his cottage where the two miscreants were attempting to hold down black coffee.  Ruth stood with her hands on her hips, laughing at them.  Jamison's eyes were nearly shut, but Quentin managed to drag him to his feet.</div> <div> "Oh, Jamison, look at you!"  Ruth scolded mockingly.  She put Jamison's arm over hers.  "Franky, don't you even think about helping!  Sit before you fall!"  Quentin slid obediently back down on the top step, and Dave took his place.  Supporting Jamison between them, they half-dragged him to the Rolls and deposited him on the passenger seat.  Quentin had gotten back up to follow them, staggering noticeably, to the car.</div> <div> Ruth turned to him.  "Coming with us, Frank?"</div> <div> Quentin shook his head very slowly, no.  "I'm afraid I'd get sick all over your car, Ruthie.  I'm sorry."</div> <div> "He's right," Dave agreed.  "Boy's better off sleepin it off here."</div> <div> Ruth looked back at Quentin.  She was smiling, even as she shook her finger at him.  "Shame on you, Franky, for getting Jamison in this condition!  He's going to have a mighty big hangover tomorrow!"  Then she laughed gaily.  "And so are you, my drunk friend!  You better get yourself off to bed, Frank.  Take two aspirin, and when your head is still aching in the morning, don't call ME!"  </div> <div> He blinked his eyes.  She was wonderful.  What he wouldn't give for someone like her…Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.  Surprised, he returned the embrace.  It was the first time he'd hugged a young woman in a long time without thinking of taking her to bed.  He just kept thinking how lucky Jamison was and how much he wished…he felt her lips brush his cheek lightly, and he looked at her a little cross-eyed, as only the very drunk can.  "Thank you for looking out for Jamison.  He shouldn't drive in this condition.  Go to bed now.  We'll call you tomorrow." </div> <div> "'Kay," he answered, drunkenly.</div> <div> "Don't you worry none," Dave said.  "I'll look after him.  Put him right to bed, and he'll sleep like a baby.  You be careful on them roads.  They twist and turn like snakes this time of night."</div> <div> "I'll be careful," Ruth promised.  She pressed Dave's hands between hers.  "You're a good friend, too, Mr. Fisher.  Thank you.  I'll talk to you again soon."  She got in behind the wheel of the car and started it up.  Quentin and Dave watched her drive away.</div> <div> "Damn, you sure are drunk, Franky!"  Dave exclaimed.</div> <div> "Had a lot to celebrate, Dave, my friend--I am a VERY rich man thanks to this last run, I had a great time crossing the border, and I'm about to become an uncle again!"  Quentin declared.  "An' I had to celebrate my nephew's good fortune in finding himself such a wife!  I should be so lucky!"</div> <div> "You will, don't worry.  You young," Dave assured him, patting him on the back.</div> <div> Quentin looked at him morosely.  "Nope, no, not me, I'm cursed.  I'm no good, Dave.  You have no idea."</div> <div> Dave shook his head.  "Lord knows I ain't gonna argue with someone drunk as you are, kid.  Cursed!  Shoo!"  He tried to take Quentin's elbow.  "Come on, Franky, lemme get some more coffee into you."</div> <div> Quentin pulled away truculently.  "Dave!  I'm serious about this, man!  I could've had what Jamison had, but I was too stupid to know what I had.  I'm telling you, I'm cursed!  And I should be cursed!"</div> <div> "Should be cursed?  Whatcha talkin about? Good buddy like you are?  You talkin out of you're head."</div> <div> "Oh, no, no, no.  You just don't really know me, buddy.  I'm really no good, y'see.  Never have been any good."  Quentin began to sag suddenly.  </div> <div> Dave caught him under the arms.  "You just drunk, kid.  Talkin out of your head."  He shifted his weight so that he could throw Quentin over his shoulder.  "Jeez, why'd you have to drink so damn much and why'd you have to be so damn tall?"  Dave muttered and grunted as he struggled to get Quentin into the little cottage.  He dumped him onto the bed and looked down on him.  "Guess I better check on you--make sure you don't get sick all over yourself and choke on it. Fool kid."  Quentin made no response.</div> <div> Dave pulled Quentin's shoes off and pulled his legs onto the bed.  He removed the hip flask so Quentin wouldn't hurt himself if he rolled onto it and put it in the dresser.  He opened the window to let in fresh air and then left, shutting the door behind him.  He decided to leave the lights on so that when he checked on Quentin, he wouldn't have to worry about startling him by flicking the lights on.</div> <div> Even though Quentin didn't move, he was vaguely aware of everything going on around him.  Lucky Jamison, he thought blearily.  The last thing he remembered before he drifted off into oblivion was Beth's face--so unlike Ruth's but he would've given anything to have her smile at him again now, the way Ruth had smiled at Jamison.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Speakeasy"><U>4:  Speakeasy</U></A>     <A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U>6:  Reunion</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>