New Years 1920

There is a vortex of sorts or at least that’s what I’ve been told.  I am a rational man, always thinking before jumping to conclusions and using sound judgment before letting my emotions wash me away.  Time, like me, moves in a linear direction, from past to now to the future, there are no replays, no going back in the past to redo or fix an omission.  There is no dress rehearsal or retakes or do overs. I have had some relationships that I wished had ended differently than they did, but I refuse to live with regret or that mournful statement, “If only I could do it all over again…”

It was one heck of a party to ring in the new year.  Having signed my divorce papers early last year, I was in the mood to have a blowout at my place, tiny though it may be, at least I had cut all the ropes of my marriage and was sailing solo once again.  I had planned on bedding a couple of my single female type guests and by nine in the evening, they were getting a bit tipsy and I figured that my string of bad luck was about to end in the New Year. 

I have always liked New Years since I was a kid, because it brought with it hope that the new year would bring new opportunities.  I would go to the gym for a solid month and then by March or April at the latest, I would terminate my membership due to lack of use on my part.  I have always been well aware that I lie on the heavy side of my ideal weight and have struggled to keep the pounds off, but come May, green things no longer seem appetising anymore.  I even made a resolution once to go vegetarian, because all of the medical reports were saying that meat causes cancer. By May, I suspected this was a myth along with the belief that chocolate was also carcinogenic.   

Married for five years, my wife became bored and I have to admit, so did I.  It is one of those glitches of the modern era, the inability to tolerate boredom in any form or fashion.  She found a tall dark man with an accent while I made a connection with a woman who told me we belonged on another level, but as it turned out that level was a level I had passed a while ago and was ready to move on.  

I needed hope.  I needed a new start on things.  I needed so many things I could no longer keep track, but Bruce my wingman, was pumping me up for our blowout by telling me Melissa was hot for me and I felt the physical attraction toward her as well.  She was one of the receptionists at my office and she had started flirting with me a few weeks ago, maybe it was longer, but sometimes I’m not the most attentive guy around either. She wore fitted sweaters over her sheer shirts that seemed to offer quite a view of a real natural wonder, if you know what I mean.  Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a plaa-yyurr, but I try to be aware of my surroundings.

Text message from Sandy, my ex:  “Got to hell.” 

She must have been contacted by my lawyer...there was another word that I do not care to insert, but I’m sure you can do that on your own.  

Returning from the office, I did something I hadn’t done for years, I laid down on the couch and fell into a deep sleep.  My dreams moved me through a strange landscape…

Hey there sailor.  

When I looked up I saw a young woman with a bob haircut and tight form-fitting brightly colored striped dress that ended at her knee.  There was music playing. It sounded so tinny. She had a cigarette stuffed into a black holder and putting this to her lips blew out a stream of smoke.

Come on over here, cutie.

When I looked at myself to make sure she was talking to me, I was dressed in a double breasted pinstripe suit like the fashionable bootleggers wore.  Bootleggers? What did I know about this? Prohibition? Thank God, I was not born when this was the law of the land. Slowly I walked an invisible runway and stood in front of her. She, with big blue eyes, looked up at me longingly and before I could even react, she planted her ruby red lips on mine, leaving a thick coat of lipstick in a very incriminating place.  Gasping for a momentary loss of air, I looked at her as a sinister smile ran across her face.

Whadda say sugar, we go someplace a little more private,

She ran her finger under my chin and I could feel all my will power run from me like rats from a sinking ship.  Although I do not go for the flat chested types, I saw that she was hiding her best assets or concealing them as best she could.  This fashion, this mode of dress seemed out of place, or was it me.  

Hey buddy.

A dark haired stranger with piercing black eyes put a finger in my face preventing me from advancing on the moll.  Moll? What the heck is a moll?

Yeah.

I sounded so tough I could almost not help myself from cracking a smile, but the man in front of me seemed quite intense.

You mess with that dame, the boss will have you wearing cement shoes in the Hudson.

Cement shoes?  Hudson? What was going on here.

You’ve got a run over in Brooklyn.  Gotta be there before midnight. Happy New Years.  Don’t get to zozzled before we run that gin over to Frankie’s place.

I won’t.

“Wake up, dude.  It’s time to get busy.” Bruce was slapping me on the cheek.

“Wha..” I groaned.

“C’mon Sleeping Beauty, Melissa awaits.” He smiled and jabbed my playfully on the shoulder like he used to do back in college when we were fraternity brothers.  

Aftershave, mouthwash, cologne, deodorant, teeth whitener, all done in the hopes of getting righteously laid. Happy 2020.  New hope. New promise. Bruce hung the trimmings from my makeshift chandelier as I blew up the balloons, too cheap to buy a canister of helium, because in an hour those details would not matter.  I had figured to get Melissa bedded by eleven and still make the ball drop in Times Square on television to a chorus of intoxicated people singing, “Five, four, three, two one! Happy New Years!”  

And after that round two with one of the other female guests at the gathering.  Bruce and I smiled at each other knowingly.

I’m not sure when exactly I passed out, but I remember the sweet scent of Melissa’s perfume as I told her about how many reps I was doing at the gym.  I had even flexed a few times to show off. But there was an echo and the echo grew stronger…

Hey, your boss, Mickey is cutting the edges.  

Ain’t so, Numbnuts.  

It was Tony the Squeeze, the guy who warned me not to get zozzled off of the bathtub gin we were running.  

Screw you, you WOP.

Only my muther can call me that you, goon.

There was an exchange of words before Tony drew the pistol from his vest and shot the angry thug right in the forehead.  He wobbled a bit before toppling to the floor as his brains leaked out all over the fancy carpet. 

C’mon kid, we gotta scram.

I felt him tug on my arm, but I could not take my eyes off the dead man lying sprawled out on the carpet.  I could hear someone yell. Then more voices. I followed Tony as we ran through the bar to the car I had parked out front.

I knew this was a mistake.  That Mick was looking for a fight.  Guess I gave him one, eh?  

You sure did, Tony.

Hey, we still got a couple of stops and time’s a wasting. 

“Hey, no guy fricking passes out on me.” I felt Melissa’s breath on my face, “If you can’t stand up means you can’t get it up, either.” Her face was red and some of her makeup was beginning to run down her chubby face. 

“How about you make it all better.” I managed a smile.

“How?” She squinted her face.

“You got hands, doncha?” I chuckled.

“You are disgusting.” She shook her head and walked to the other side of the room where there were a couple of young ladies decked out and ready for some action.  Sorry, Melissa, you are not the only fish swimming in my pond, doll. As far as getting to my feet that was easy and the rest was beginning to look up as well.

Your rot gut bathtub gin put three of my regulars in the emergency room, you gumbah.

Hey, buyer beware.  Would not be a problem if they didn’t outlaw booze, huh?

Tony was smiling and joking, but I could tell bad things were about to happen again, because the big man was not humored in the least.  All I could think about was that Dumb Dora I left standing back at Nick’s place. I found out that Nick was the boss and that Dumb Dora was his moll, so hands off, but she was ready when she laid that lip lock on me. 

With our truck filled with kegs of booze, I glanced out the window and saw some flatfoot sniffing around.  I excused myself and walked up the officer, he couldn’t have been shaving that long.

What is the problem officer?

Need to see your licence.  

His voice was firm, but still had a youthful squeak to it.  I tried to conceal a smirk as I lit a Lucky.  

I was wondering what you are hauling.

I wasn’t smiling anymore as he walked to the back of the truck.  

Moving my old Aunt Virginia to a rest home.

This was a coded phrase we were supposed to use whenever the cops showed up while we were delivering, but I knew Tony wouldn’t hear me saying it, because he was busy inside.  Sweat trickled down my neck as he asked again lifting one of the flaps on the canvass covering. He could now clearly see the wooden crates in which several bottles of gin were waiting to be delivered.  Only a newbie would not know what was in those crates and seeing the flash in his pale blue eyes, I knew that he was not a newbie. I pulled my gun and pointed at him. Slowly he raised his hands.  

I don’t want no trouble, officer.  So I want you to go over to your car now.  Do not touch your radio. Do not touch anything except the steering wheel, do you understand.

He nodded and slowly made his way back to his patrol car.  He got in his car while I held the pistol pointed at him. But the flatfoot reached for something and instinctively I fired.  One shot struck him below the ear and exited out the side of this head splattering his brains all over the glass. I did not have to check to see if he was dead.  I was as sure as I could be. Tony came running out shouting obscenities with his heater drawn. Without another word, we both got in the truck and drove off as wail of sirens filled the night air. 

What was that all about?

He was checking the truck.

So, cops do that.  I was in there with that goon who was giving me a hard time and you are out here shooting one of the city’s finest.   Good shot by the way.

Thanks.

I didn’t know what else to say.  I was a cop killer and I knew how that went down on the force.  I would be a hunted man.  

“So you like get all undressed and then you pass out on me?  Story of my whole life.” She sobbed as she put her bra back on.  She was clothed only by the sheets. I was in the process of getting lucky, but failed to deliver. “You are a schmuck!”

“Hey look, don’t get sore on me…” My head hurt and I did not even have that much to drink.  

“Brenda.” She glared at me as she buttoned her blouse. “Jesus F. Chrrriiisssttt.” She sneered as she fastened her pants and strode out as angry as anyone I had ever seen.  Failed to deliver? That was a first for me. But I knew that the word was bound to get around and sure enough, as I struggled to buckle my own pants, Bruce came in with a bewildered look on his face.

“So, word on the street is that you did not stiff two very attractive women who are now on their way home in separate cabs.  I thought they had too much to drink, because this is a first for you.” He plopped down on the bed next to me, “You wanna tell me what’s up?”

My mind raced to that place on the curb where I had shot and killed a policeman and then back to Brenda whose face became a raging volcano on her departure.  He was my best friend in the whole wide world, so I gave it a shot.

“There is something crazy going on.” I started.

“No shit.” His eyebrow shot to the middle of his forehead and I feared that I was underestimated his empathy.   In college, I was the king of getting some, anybody, anytime, anywhere, becoming a god in his eyes, but then I got married and I stopped my wicked ways.  He got bored with my new domestic situation, but was eager when I told him I was going back on the market again. Would he be able to understand that this had become something more than just getting lucky?  Would he be able to see what stress had come crushing down on me. I had my doubts. 

“I don’t know why,  but I keep going back to this place when I fall asleep and continue this strange dream.” I paused and made sure his light brown eyes were still focused on me as I spoke. “Anyway, it’s a place a hundred years ago and I’m a rum runner.”

“Are you coking again?” He asked me in all seriousness.

“No, I gave that shit up three years ago when I almost didn’t make it home.” I shook my head which had sunk low between my knees as I sat hunched over on the bed.  “It’s some kind of vortex I keep falling into.”

“You are serious?” He appeared astonished.

“I need you to pretend you believe me.” I closed my eyes and shook my head, “Tonight I would have traded a pound of flesh to be in bed with both of those women and I failed to deliver.  This place is a cold harsh place that I keep finding myself in. I am no gangster.”

“No, but your are down with Grand Theft.” He chuckled,

“That does not make me a gangster.” I sighed, “I don’t want to go back, because I know things are going to turn out badly.” 

“But dude, it’s just a dream.” He shrugged.

“Is it? Is it really?” My voice got firm.  

“What do you want me to do?” He asked helplessly.

“What you are doing now, listening and believing what I am telling you.  Just in case something awful happens, man.” I stood up, waving my arms around my head. Reaching into my wallet, I removed my drivers’ licence handing it to him.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked holding up the plastic card.  It looked so small and insignificant, but I knew if something bad were to happen to me, he would need some sort of identification for when the police came to investigate.  When I saw Tony? Tony that was his name. I could not recall his name when I was awake, but now suddenly I could-when he pulled the trigger and killed that thug-the look on his face was one of satisfaction, of pleasure in doing what he enjoyed best about his job.  I wondered if I had that same expression on my face when I pulled the trigger on that cop. It haunted me that I could do it, but it really bothered to think that I was just like Tony even for a second. I was not a gangster. I was not a killer, especially of policemen.  

“If something happens to me, call the police.” I told him coldly.

“What is going to happen?” He was shaking in fear as he spoke.

“I dunno for sure, but I know it won’t be good.” I sniffed and walked out the door as Prince’s 1999 was booming out of my speakers in the living room that was crowded with people. 

I wanna party like it’s 1999

She was back in my arms, her body pressing into mine, her hands reached down there.  I felt the liberating sensation of losing my clothes as my pants went to the floor. Her coat was next.  I did not hear the door open as I was much too occupied with the warm treasure that lay before me.

Bastard!

The voice made me turn to see Nick with a Tommy gun his hands and in a flash bullets were sprayed everywhere, the hot metal ripping through my body as I dance the dance of death along with my partner, our blood sprayed like champagne being violently uncorked.  My tombstone would read that I died on January 1, 1920.  

“Hello police, my name is Bruce Dontell and I want to file a missing person’s report on my friend.” Bruce sat with the cell phone pressed into his ear, his fingernails had been chewed down to nubs and he had smoke an entire pack of Pall Malls in the past two hours, “Yes, he’s been gone for over twenty four hours.  The last time I saw him it was around eleven thirty on December 31, 2019. He gave me his drivers’ licence…”