Surprised, Leo turns to the newcomer. "Uh, that's very generous of you, sir," he answers. "What kind of job did you have in mind, exactly? I can't say that I've ever interviewed for a bowling alley..."
After wandering the near deserted streets for nearly an hour, keeping a wary eye on buildings that are not as deserted as they first appear; watching impoverished citizens eye them from dark alleys and shaded windows; rejecting numerous attempted sales of narcotics and cheap sex; dodging beggars, grifters, con artists, and muggers; and getting sore feet from walking along poorly maintained sidewalks, they eventually stop in the dubious shade of yet another shoddy building to catch their collective breaths. As they do so they hear the distant sound of an automobile engine revved WAY up high (unusual in this barrio, where functional automobiles are rare).
Moments later a red 1964 Chevy Corvair Monza coupe with "Giovanni's Cabs" placards on the side comes sailing out of a nearby alley, sucking a contrail of old newspapers and miscellaneous garbage in its wake. The vehicle skids sideways, adding a cloud of rubber smoke to the air, and getting pelted on the drivers side with much of the refuse it sucked out of the alley, then roars forward to slam to a stop with two wheels up on the pavement just in front of Ghishu and Leo so close in fact that Leo swarms up a nearby lamp post to keep from getting his toes run over, while Ghishu leaps backwards a good three feet.
The passenger side door flies open, causing a couple of old sandwich wrappers and some Styrofoam coffee cups to fall out. From the interior comes a voice that sounds at once both gravelly and mushy - like a real hardcase talking tough with a mouthful of oatmeal.
"Need a ride?"
Leo grimaces expressively for Ghishu's benefit, then shrugs. One more killer cab, what a surprise...
"Why, yes, we do," he answers the cabbie. "We're going to Home Brew in Four Points, so drop us as close to the Ramble as you can, please."
With a temor of anticipation, he opens the back door, his feet out of the way of the debris that is sure to tumble out of any of Giovanni's cabs. He reaches in to clear a couple of spots on the back seat.
Upon sticking his head into the cab, Leo gets a whiff of unwashed clothing and unwashed body. This is overlain with a smell of mustard, of sandwich meat left just a bit too long on the counter top, mildew, and old sweat socks. The odor isn't overpowering (that might be because the front passenger window is broken) but it does make for a somewhat complex aroma.
The guy sitting behind the wheel doesn't make Leo feel any more comfortable. He appears to be a Hispanic/Caribbean, in his late twenties, 5'9", 160 lb.. His face is oddly lopsided - the right side is relatively normal, perhaps somewhat bloated in fact. The left side is darker, smaller, sunken in and decidedly more sinister looking. The head is attached to a body dressed in clothing that is desperately in need of washing, with obvious and profuse food and sweat stains.
"Home Brew in the Ramble," he says, the words slurring through his distorted lips. "Gotcha!" He smiles and winks at Leo causing the chinese food to lurch ominously in his stomach. Leo has seen a lot of freaks in his time, but there is something decidedly nauseating about this guy.
Leo clears some space as best he can, shoving the surplus material onto the sidewalk. Civic-mindedness seems superfluous right now. He hesitates a bit about whether to keep the bag of chinese food, because he suddenly doesn't feel hungry at all, but decides to hold on to it for now. He slides inside the Corvair, leaving plenty of space for Ghishu (ah, the advantages of traveling with a contortionist!) The cabbie waits politely for Ghishu to enter the cab.
After a short pause where nothing happens, Jack leans over and gazes out the front passenger window. "Hey buddy!" he calls to Ghishu, his misshapen features making it come out sounding something like "Lee bullie" with a sort of slick, slobbering overtone added for good measure. "Hey buddy, you gonna get inna car or can I go on lunch break now wit da meter still runnin'?"
Leo stares at the paralyzed Ghishu for a moment, then frowns with a measure of annoyance. Leaning over, he reaches with one long arm and pulls his companion inside the cab. Ghishu's loanding on the Corvair's back seat is accompanied by a dull "thump" and a cloud of greasy dust. The door slams with the momentum.
"Let's go!" Leo directs the hideous cabbie. "I've seen enough of Four Points for today!"
"Go it is," replies the cabbie (sounding rather like "go a ish!") slamming his foot down on the accelerator and launching the cab away from the curb like an electron out of a particle accelerator. Leo's long neck is hard pressed to prevent his head from bouncing off the rear window, while Ghishu's face becomes intimately aquainted with the gunk stuck in the crack in the back seat.
After a few harrowing moments during which the intrepid passengers sort themselves out in the back seat, the two manage to get seated in a more or less upright position and brace themselves against the doors and foot wells so they aren't slammed around in the back seat when the cab takes corners at 40 mph.
"Tho," slobbers the cabbie conversationally, "nu i' ta?"
Leo grimaces. "Fairly new, yeah," he admits. "But I tell ya, it feels like I've been here for a couple of years already!" A thought strikes him. "Hey, you must know Li Whu'in? She drives for Giovanni too." He grins at Ghishu and nudges him with his elbow. "Great gal, took a liking to my friend here." He pauses, then switches topics again. "Anyway, I'm going to Home Brew to look for work. You know anything about the place?"
"Ho vu?" replies the cab driver. "Ya, I owe da pace. I' o a. I a ah, pe'y white wewy. No ma so-ah pace doh. To ah ow i' da owen iya no why me?" He gestures meaningfully at the shrunken portion of his face for emphasis and grins in a manner that makes the Chinese food jump around a bit in the stomachs of the respective passengers.
As he chats, Leo braces himself against the wildly lurching motion of the Corvair, props the box from Gun Metal in his lap, and carefully lifts the top. He admires the handsome throwing knives for a moment, then reaches down to roll up his pant legs and tie a Rigid Thrower to each wiry leg. The sheaths are made to be hung from a belt, but Leo rigs a temporary attachment with some elastic bands he pulled from a pocket.
He then shoves a sheathed Lightning Bolt in a back pocket, and straps the last two under the sleeves of his shirt in the same manner he secured the Rigid Throwers. They show a bit, but it will do for now. He smiles apologetically for Ghishu's benefit.
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay!" yells the driver. "No fie shi ina ba o m' ca, bur-r!"
The cab continues to careen wildly through traffic.
Through the labourious responses, Leo gathers that (a) the cabbie doesn't hang out at Home Brew much, although he's been there, and (b) doesn't like people strapping on weapons while seated in his vehicle. The nuances remain nebulous, however. He gives up further attempts at conversation and looks out the window instead, admiring urban scenery slightly deformed by the blur of speed. He tries to memorize streets, more to pass the time and occupy his mind than in the real hope of finding his way around in the near future.
After a ride of around ten minutes, the cab pulls onto a street that seems to be paralleling some sort of old canal, protected by a rusty chain link fence. However, instead of dead animals, rusty shopping carts, garbage, and the occasional decaying husk of a car, the bottom of the canal is filled with all manner of colorful tents, kiosks, booths, etc. That's more like it! Leo perks up at the sight.
"Sa' wa-ol," the cabbie comments offhand. "Ya oo-a ata hin oh-oo ah ya owe." He waves a hand around. "I' oovs."
Incomprehension paints itself once again on Leo's features.
Screeching to a stop near an intersection, he points to a sign across the street in the shape of an arrow, pointing down. It is clearly lettered "The Ramble".
"Eer ya oh udy," he says. "Al ve oreen yinee ive!" For emphasis he points to the meter, which reads "$14.95"
Leo pulls out his money, and rembering Li's earlier reaction to his attempt at tipping, counts exactly $14.95. "Thank you very much," he says politely, handing the money to the cabbie.
"Yer welcome," replies the cabbie in perfectly comprehensible, though hispanically accented English.
He climbs out of the Corvair and starts looking around at The Ramble. The atmosphere is much more to his liking than in Four Points! He examines the street, trying to determine the direction of Home Brew from the street numbers, but this fine theoretical concept seems a bit more difficult in the practice, due to all the obstructions and to the fact that half the buildings are missing street numbers while the others' are out of sequence. On the other hand, some collapsible booths seem to have their own street numbers, which may move? Leo shrugs. Very Mediterranean.
He waves Ghishu onwards. "Nothing to do but look for the place," he comments. He starts moving toward the carnivalesque street.
A long wooden ramp leads down from street level into the abandoned canal
of the Ramble. Business is booming, and the place is packed with
people, "people" and people (?). Amidst throngs of tourist types,
shopkeepers, and noose necked natives Leo spots several oddities as well.
Mutation seems to be a bit more common here than in other locales he has
visited in the past.
The interior of the large tent contains more tables and chairs, as well as a makeshift bar. It appears that the place sell mainly beer, as there are several large kegs of the stuff sitting on a counter behind the bar. Three waitresses move around in the crowd carrying glass steins and plates of food to the many customers. The atmosphere is somewhat smoky, both from the grille in the back and because many of the customers partake of various dried herbal inhalants.
Behind the bar is a kid of around 12 years. He is taking orders and filling steins as fast as ever he can, with deft ease that suggests that today is not his first day on the job (or even part of his first year). He has a cigar clenched between his teeth, though he seems to prefer chewing on it to actually smoking it, as it is unlit.
Leo glances around with interest, wondering what kind of entertainment the patrons would be looking for in this place. A small, irrepressibly optimistic part of his mind also vaguely hopes to spot Serena. He quickly shakes himself back to reality, however.
After a good look around to take in the atmosphere, Leo walks up to the cigar-chewing youngster.
"Hi," he says, "my name is Leo Barbeau. I'm sent by Deadly Temptations for the entertainer position. Who should I speak to regarding the details?" He offers his hand to shake.
The kid leans over the bar and takes Leo's hand in a firm grip. "The name's Raimi - Sam Raimi. No relation. Glad ta meet ya, Leo."
Leo's face crinkles when the young bartender introduces himself. "Good name," he comments as they shake hands.
"Listen," the kid continues, "I don't know what they told you to expect here but I don't have time for an interview - I have a business to run. So instead, two words. 'Impress me.' Preferably in some way that doesn't involve breaking up the place. Aside from that, lets see what you can do."
Leo's grin widens as he remembers Kitty's interview at Kuan Tun's Martial Art Academy earlier that day. "Yeah, I figured," he comments. "Just give me a sec' to get my stuff together."
With long strides, Leo exits the large tent that is Home Brew. The installation is at least familiar to an old circus hand! At the "door", he glances left and right through the colourful riot that is the Ramble. He cocks his head, listening intently to the sounds of the street. Finally, he spots what he is searching for: a street musician that can stay reasonably in tune. Following the somewhat twangy, meandering sound of a stringed instrument, he works his way to a musician playing a lute in middle-eastern style. She is sitting cross-legged on an inverted plastic bucket, wearing scarf and tchador, mirror sunglasses, a burnous robe, and a Meat Puppet t-shirt.
While the musician winds her way through the end of the piece, Leo browses the food displayed at a nearby stall and purchases a bag of assorted fruit. When the music comes to a stop, attracting a few coins and mumbles from listeners, Leo seizes the opportunity. "Ma'am, I need a musician to accompany my act at Home Brew for a short show," he says. "You sounded great, and if you're interested and we can agree on price, I'd love to have your help."
Having finally settled on an arrangement, Leo returns to Home Brew, followed by "his" musician. Under the skeptical gaze of Sam the bartender, he places his bag of fruit on an unoccupied table, then starts emtying his pockets of a large number of marbles, pieces of coloured string, one yoyo with a lot of mileage, and sundry small article. He murmurs a few words to the musician, who immediately starts disagreeing with his choice of music. Leo shakes his head, then shrugs. "Well, just play something that works," he sighs.
He turns back to Sam and the patrons and bows deeply from the waist. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says, projecting suitably. "I have been asked to impress Mr. Raimi, so I will have the honour of performing for you tonight. My name is Leo Barbeau, recently of the Cirque du Soleil, and I will be accompanied by the talented Fatima." He glances warily at the muscian. "I am a jugglar, contortionist, and man of many talents." He turns to Sam and adds: "I can also bus tables like nobody's business. Let me show you."
Without waiting for an answer, he grabs an empty tub and heads for a table where three empty glasses and a couple of plates have been left unattended. The patrons sitting at the table regard him with skepticism as he deftly picks up the crockery with his free hand, then gasp as he negligently throws the objectin a long arc towards the tub. But they never make it to the bottom of the parabolic trajectory; faster than the eye can follow, he starts juggling and spinning the objects under the customers noses.
"Would you guys care for a refill?" he asks politely. They nod hesitantly. He turns towards the bar, juggling the glasses on his way, and slaps them down one by one in front of Sam like a stage magician. "This one had Duvel, this one Harp's, and that one Gueuse Lambic," he says smugly. At least, that's what the coasters said... he thinks, hoping the house hadn't run out of the right coasters on the previous round.
Sam shakes his head a bit, then begins drawing refills from one of the kegs behind the bar. Leo notices that they all get the same thing, and none of it appears to be Harp's.
Leo picks up the three full glasses in one long-fingered hand and takes them back to the table, putting them down with a flourish in front of the three customers. Continuing with a flowing motion, he picks up the two plates and starts spinning them on his arm, marching them down his arm and into the bussing tub where they lay down with a tired *chink!* A spurt of applause hiccups and dies, as Leo bows and returns the tub to its rightful place.
Without a pause, he continues towards his bag of fruit and reaches for two peaches. He starts juggling them as he explains: "As you might guess, I'm applying for a job here at Home Brew. As long as I'm unemployed, I'm rather poor so I thought it would be a good idea to buy props that I could eat after the show." As he speaks, he keeps reaching inside the bag and pulling out more fruit which he throws into his juggling act: an orange, two kiwis, a mango...
"Now, that was a fine idea, but I think I picked up too many. There's no way I can keep juggling that many pieces forever, you see..." But he seems entirely unconcerned. With a snap of the wrist, he reaches under a sleeve and pulls out one of the brand-new Hibben Lightning Bolts. The knife joins the fruit in the juggling act, but Leo start whipping the knife through the fruit and slicing off pieces which he then throws in the air and catches with his mouth.
"Mmm, fresh market fruit, you can't beat that," he comments. He keeps it up for a few moments, long enough for every one to go oooh and aaah, then ends the number with a flourish. He turns to Fatima, who has been improvising gamely, and bows to her. "Great," he murmurs. "Now the next one is going to be a bit different."
He turns back to the audience, and bows again. But instead of
straightening up, he suddely collapses to the floor. Or rather, he
falls forward, folding his long gangly limbs into a ball. For a moment,
it seems impossible anyone could disentangle the mess, but one spidery
arm starts snaking out of the knot, undulating with Fatima's music.
Then the other arm, then a leg, and the other leg. Slowly, the human
knot shifts into a different knot, equally non-euclidian. The permutations
snake like the music, gradually changing from a feat of contorsion to a
sort of slow choreography vaguely reminescent of tai chi ch'uan.
Finally, the music trails to an end as Leo retruns to the deep bow that
started it all, then straightens up. He looks around uncertainly,
wondering whether they all hated it or liked it.
"OK, you're talented, I give you that. But lets get something straight from the beginning - don't juggle my crockery. You're awful good, but I don't want to replace it and you don't want to have to pay for it, so let's just keep it simple.
Leo smothers a grin. Using the dishes was a gamble, but it did attract Sam's attention...
"The thing with the fruit, that was nice - I liked that. The contortion thing needs work - lying down on the floor there nobody's going to see you. I want action that's flashy and draws in the customers, and that means high visibility."
"Yeah, it works better on a stage with the proper lighting," agrees Leo.
"Which we ain't got." responds Sam. "Maybe if you make us rich and famous we might be able to get one, but putting it up and breaking it down every night would be a queen mother bitch. You want to work here you can, I got no problem with that. BUT, you work here by MY rules. This week you work for tips - tips only. Every dime you make I want to know about - I ain't takin' a cut, but the more tips you make the more popular you are and the more likely I am to hire you. And don't think about stacking the tip jar by having your friends drop in - I know my regulars, so if a bunch of new faces show up and start dropping hundred dollar bills into your tip jar every night then you're out. On the other hand if you are as good as you showed me then you should be working here inside of a week. If you do a good job and make decent tips, and business goes up on your shifts then I'll put you on the payroll. Home Brew opens at 10:00 am and closes at 2:00 am. You'll be working the 6:00 pm to 2:00 am shift, and you help break down the place afterwards, so you actually leave around 3:00-3:30. You work weekends - they're big money days for me, but you can have any two weekdays you want off as long as you tell me a week in advance which days they are. You get paid daily, cash. The amount varies, but it's usually around $120.00 a night, not including tips."
He shoves his cigar back in his mouth. "Well?" he inquires.
Leo raises his eyebrows fractionally. "Well, aside from the fact that the hours, pay, and arrangements have nothing to do with what Deadly Temptations described, you mean?"
"Sorry about that - dad put in the ad with Deadly Temptations. Unfortunately... circumstances have changed since then."
Leo ponders. "Mmmm... I'm sure we can work something out. I'd like to have Wednesday nights off for sure, and the other day is negociable. And do you have any arrangements for music, like a guest band on weekends, or canned music maybe? If you don't then I'll have to make arrangements because I know very well people get tired of a silent act. It's one step removed from a mime, if you see what I mean."
"Yeah, somebody just beat the shit out of a mime just this afternoon," interjects Fatima as she walks past.
"So what else is new?" comments Raimi. "Shit, the only thing that keeps them from getting extincted is the fact that the Mime Guild puts a price on the head of whoever attacks one. I pity the poor bastard who did it - he'll probably wind up drowned in greasepaint or something."
Leo leans on the bar, thinking. "Well, Deadly Temptations will want their cut. It may be easiest for all concerned to just stick to the original agreement between you and them as far as their fee. If it's a fixed fee, it doesn't really matter. If it's a percentage, neither you nor I wants to give them anything not already agreed on. What they told me was fixed salary, with them taking their own cut first, for three months if I pass the trial period. If you give them the percentage they're expecting (and they didn't tell me how much that was), we can arrange the details between us. The hours you listed are longer than what they told me, but the pay sounds better -- if you're not being overly optimist. I'm willing to try it. I do have some friends that may drop by, but it's all profit for you. There's no way they're going to be able to afford to stack the tips and I can't afford it either.
"You haven't answered me about music in this place. Do you have anything set up?"
"I got a bunch of acts here, and some of 'em play music. But I ain't got nothin' lined up specifically for you. I got enough problems just runnin' the bar without having to deal with you artsy types and your 'incompatible visions' and 'unreconcilable stylistic differences' and all that utopian shit." Raimi holds up a hand to forestall comment, while pouring beer with the other. "Seriously, I really just don't have the time to arrange for meetings and auditions between my performers - you guys work one shift, but I work two and I don't get days off. My recommendation - find someone you can work with, bring 'em along, and work 'em into your act. Hang out in the Plaza of Flowers or go to Sad Mary's if you're looking for something different. You could even see who Deadly Temptations has to offer.
Leo offers his hand to Sam. "All right, there's nothing wrong
with trying this for a week. I'll start tomorrow night, and I get
Wednesday and Thursday nights off. A week from now, we look at the
numbers and decide if we want to get into a longer term agreement.
I'll be here tomorrow night at a quarter to six. Sounds good?"
The man, who introduced himself as Leo, turns out to be a juggler, and a really good one at that. For the duration of his impromptu performance, he holds the attention of the rather flighty audience. After a brilliant little show and sincere but short round of applause, the tall, lanky guy walks over to the bar, and starts talking to the bartender.
Chris walks over to where the juggler is standing at the bar.
"I'll hire you right now, Leo. I own a bowling alley." He
sips his beer. "You know, bowling pins, bowling balls, beer bottles,
the occasional midget." Another sip. "You can juggle all you
want, I will also need help in the King Pin Lounge and the Spare-Time Diner."
Chris finishes the brew. "By the way, my name is Chris."
Surprised, Leo turns to the newcomer. "Uh, that's very generous
of you, sir," he answers. "What kind of job did you have in mind,
exactly? I can't say that I've ever interviewed for a bowling alley..."
"Call me Chris." He sets his empty on the bar. "I can't say I've ever owned a bowling alley before." He says, smiling. "I just inherited the place and it needs work and staff. I need entertainers, security, servers... Hell, you name it, I need it. I'm still working out pay rates and all that so nothing is certain, but I believe in paying well and treating well. Plus if you are interested we could work out an equity deal." He takes off his sunglasses to look Leo straight in the eyes. "It will be hard work, long hours and constant frustration. But when it works you could be a part of it, you could have a stake in this city." He says with an all encompassing gesture. "I understand that this situation may not be for you, really, I am looking for someone flexible."
Leo chuckles. "Well, I guess you could say I'm flexible." He waves one long gangly arm. "Chris, that sounds interesting, but I need to hear more. As you may have overheard, I'm going to be on trial here at Home Brew for a week, but that doesn't mean we can't discuss -- or that I can't have two jobs. We don't we go someplace else to discuss it? I figure here may not be the best place, but there's plenty of choices in Flowers."
"I've only been in town for a bit so I don't know many places. There is a place called the Bar & Girl, which, from the looks of what is going on outside seems to be Hell's own bar. What better place to talk about employment opportunities on this island."
Leo nods. "You must be talking about Sad Mary's, on the Plaza of Flowers" he comments. "I wanted to check it out, so that sounds like a perfect spot. I'm your man."
Replacing his sunglasses Chris says, "Let's try there." He takes his Harrington original from the soft case that is clipped to the collar of his polo shirt and starts twirling it in his right hand. In addition to the art pen Leo sees that he wears a Gerber knife at his belt, along with a cellphone. The blonde man then makes the 'after you' motion with his left hand. "Been on Doctor Moreau's Other Island long?"
"Not too long," answers Leo. "That's why I'm still on the job search. Hey, I came in with a friend, he's over there at that table." He points towards a bald man, of caucasian features but vaguely Asian dress, sitting alone at a table. He is trim and fit, but his clothes are battered. "Let me collect him, I can introduce you and we'll be on our way."
He walks over to Ghishu and explains the two conversations he just had with Sam Raimi and with Chris Wilson. He gestures towards the man Wilson.
"Chris, this is my friend Ghishu. Ghishu, meet Mr. Chris Wilson. He offered me a job, and we'd like to go to some neutral territory to discuss it. He suggested Sad Mary's Bar and Girl, which sounds like a great idea, especially since you might be able to pick up another job there too. I read that they have people fighting for money there." He turns back to Chris and explains: "Ghishu is, among other talents, a martial artist."
After they exchange the customary greetings, Leo adds: "Well, Chris, I guess the best way to get there would be to either walk along the Ramble, or get on a parallel street and flag a jitney or cab. I think the Ramble, packed as it is, might actually be quicker, and I could check out street musicians."
"Excellent, Leo. I too need to check out more talent." Chris says, his accent unremarkable and for the moment unplaceable.
"So, Gishu if you need a job, I'm hiring." The fast spinning pen glints in the sunlight.
"You!" Sam Raimi says to Chris, "drink your beer and stop head-hunting my talent before I even hire 'em!" He slides the glass of beer he was pouring in Chris' direction for emphasis. "On the house," he comments.
"Sorry 'bout that, when I see talent I try not to let it get away." Chris lifts the beer and drinks. "Thanks, this is great beer. I have a lounge that will need provender, maybe we could work out a deal of some sort."
The three Burger exit Homebrew and make their way to the Plaza along
the open market of the Ramble. As Leo, Ghishu, and Chris climb the
ramp out of the Ramble and turn the corner to go to "Bar and Girl," Leo
and Ghishu spot Buttery, Ingar, and Griffin all approaching the building
from the opposite direction.
To Be Continued...