The Florist
The Cooler: Chapter 23
“So how do you do it?” JJ asked Roger when the drinks finally arrived. They were sitting at a nice bar in the Desert Inn, waiting for the piano player to start playing again, who had taken a break just as they got there.
“What do you mean? How do I ki…I mean, complete an arrangement?” Roger asked.
“No, how do you go from being a hit …” JJ started to say.
“Florist,” Roger corrected him.
“Right, uh, florist,” JJ said. “How do you go from being a florist to watching TV all day?” JJ asked. “You went from being at the center of the action, hell, you were the action, to watching another episode of the People’s Court.”
“Well, this kind of keeps me from doing much or going far,” Roger said, pointing down to his oxygen tank. “And besides, I signed a contract with the government to not be a hit … I mean florist anymore.”
“I don’t get it, I’m bored already, and it’s only been a day,” JJ said.
“Well, I have my books and the TV and solitaire, lots of solitaire,” Roger said.
“You read books?!?” JJ asked, not believing his ears.
“Well, some but no, I mean, the books I’m working on. When I gave up being a … florist, I got a great offer from a well-known publisher to write my life story. They even sent over a kid to help me. After he uhh disappeared, they renegotiated the contract so that they would pay me for serialized chapters, and ever since then I’ve been working on it slowly.” Roger said.
“How far are you along?” JJ asked.
“I’m almost done with chapter one,” Roger said.
“That’s great, how long has that been?” JJ asked.
“Oh, about five years,” Roger said.
“Wow,” JJ said in shock before he could catch himself.
“I’ve been making notes, lots of notes. I have stacks of spiral binders with my notes all categorized by dates,” Roger said, defending his lack of progress.
“Then I guess you need to copy them into chapters,” JJ said.
“That’s what I told my publisher,” Roger said.
“So that’s what keeps you occupied?” JJ asked.
“Yep, I guess I’ve been reliving my life, remembering all the good times and the close calls and the body… I mean the arrangements,” Roger said.
“So how do the rest of the guys around the place keep the boredom at bay?” JJ asked.
“Cheap bottles of malt liquor,” Roger said. “You would be surprised how good the daytime shows can be with a solid buzz.”
The piano player finally came back and started to play his selection of classics. The two listened for a while, enjoying their drinks.
“Well, I can’t write my life story,” JJ said, continuing in his head, “Since I can’t remember it.”
“You are too young to become another smoking zombie. You need to go out and live your life,” Roger said.
“I have been trying, but I keep getting tossed in jail,” JJ said.
“Then you’re doing something right. If you don’t spend a night in jail every few weeks your doing something wrong,” Roger said.
“Then I guess I’m doing something right,” JJ said, shaking his head and trying to keep himself from falling back into a funk again.
“You have a good lawyer, don’t you?” Roger asked. “Not everyone can afford Mr Goodman, but there are other good lawyers around town. Find a good lawyer, and you won’t spend any time in prison. You’ll still spend some nights in jail, but that’s good sometimes.”
“I don’t think you are giving me good advice,” JJ said, thinking about who was talking to him.
“A night in jail is just a chance to detox,” Roger said with a mischievous look in his eyes. “I think it’s time to go play some craps.”
“Ok, I’ve been wanting to learn how to play. I just need to go use the restroom first,” JJ said.
“I need to leak the lizard too, right behind you,” Roger said.
JJ settled the bar tab and then made his way to the restroom. He was out long before Roger and was able to find a quiet corner just outside the bathroom.
Before he had left his apartment, he had grabbed his silver good luck coin. Now he said the quick spell to see the magic realm and took a quick look at it. It was nice and bright, full of wild magic.
“That’s a pretty bauble,” Roger said, seeing JJ holding the coin.
“It’s my good luck coin,” JJ said after mumbling the counter spell.
“Good, you’ll need it. Now break out a few of those hundreds I saw in your wallet,” Roger said.
***
“You only want to play the pass line and the come bet; those others are sucker bets,” Roger said, putting down a $25 chip on the pass line. JJ followed suit while he gripped his coin.
JJ had bought in with a thousand dollars for each of them after Roger had said, “Don’t be cheap,” to JJ’s intended buy-in of a hundred each.
They played for a while, not really winning and not really losing. They would win a few, and then the shooter would throw a seven. The dice finally made it around to JJ after Roger declined to throw.
“So what do I do?” JJ asked.
“Throw the dice and try not to get a craps,” Roger said.
“What does that mean?” JJ asked.
“Haven’t you been paying attention? Just don’t throw a two, three, or twelve on the come-out roll,” Roger said.
“What’s a come-out roll?” JJ asked.
“Just throw the dice,” Roger said, starting to get frustrated.
JJ threw for a record amount of time, turning their two thousand dollars into fifty thousand before a guy in a very expensive suit came over and asked if he could give them a couple of tickets for the show.
“Who’s playing?” Roger asked. “If you’re going to end our streak, it’ll need to be a good show.”
“Mr. Paul Anka is in our lounge tonight. It’s a very good show,” the man said.
“Mr. Anka is good, throw in a drink for us each and we’ll step away,” Roger said.
“Done. Who should I say is going to the show?” The man asked.
“You can tell your boss, Anthony DeLuca,” Roger said. “What is your name?”
Hearing the name, the man swallowed and then almost squeaked. “My name is Dan Castillo, and I am the shift manager. Mr. DeLuca, would you like a steak with your show? Our chef can prepare you a very nice filet.” Dan asked.
“That would be very nice, and one for my good friend JJ here. JJ, tell the nice gentleman your name,” Roger said.
“Uhh, JJ Presley,” JJ said, feeling very out of his league after seeing the response Dan had to Roger’s real name.
“Ok, JJ, and Mr. DeLuca, sir, by the time you get to the showroom,” Dan lifted his arm and waved to some unknown person. “The table will be ready, and your steaks will be there shortly after that. Veronica here will escort you to your table and make sure everything is to your liking.”
“Thank you, Dan,” Roger said, then turned to follow a very elegantly attired woman who stepped up next to him. She took his arm and then started walking him to the lounge.
“I thought your name was Robert Calun?”JJ asked.
“That’s one of them,” Roger said, turning back to his escort.
The show was great, and Roger said it was almost as good as when one of the Rat Pack had played. After an incredible night, they ended back at their apartments just before sunrise.
“Thank you, JJ, that was a great night. I haven’t had that much fun in years,” Roger said to JJ as he went into his apartment.
“Your welcome,” JJ said to the closed door.
***
JJ got a few hours sleep when he woke up sometime around ten a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t sleep. He finally gave up, dressed, and then went to the bar to call Raul, thinking that maybe it was one of his premonitions.
“Hello,” a sleepy Raul answered.
“Hey,” JJ said.
“Oh, hi JJ. What did you need?” Raul asked.
“Uhm, I don’t know. I just felt I needed to call you … I think. Are you ok?” JJ asked.
“Yeah, I’m ok. I’ll call you after I get some sleep,” Raul said.
“Uh, ok,” JJ said as Raul hung up the phone.
“What’s going on? Why am I feeling like this?” JJ said to himself. He hadn’t had much experience with his premonitions since his memory loss, and he was still guessing about how to interpret them. It had felt like he needed to get to Raul, but after the call, it was feeling like he needed to get back to his apartment.”
JJ headed out the door of the bar. The sunlight, reflecting off the vehicles, blinded him for a moment as he stepped out. When his eyes finally adjusted, he saw that there was a fire truck and an ambulance in the parking lot for the apartment building. Ambulances were not uncommon there, given the average age of the residents. JJ decided to go back into the bar and wait there for the paramedics to be done. As he reached down to grab the handle, his feeling flared, causing him to stop and turn around to go back to his apartment.
“There aren’t any hoses out, so my apartment isn’t on fire,” JJ said to himself as he started towards his building. He found himself walking faster and faster towards his place. By the time he got to the gate for the building, he was running. When he got to the top of the stairs, he saw that the paramedics were outside his place.
“I’m here, I’m fine,” JJ said as he ran down to his door.
“Are you Roger?” One of the paramedics asked.
“No, I’m JJ, I live in this apartment,” JJ said, pointing to his door.
“We had a call for this one,” the paramedic said, pointing to Rogers place. “Do you have a key?”
“No, we barely talk,” JJ said.
“I’m here, I’ll open it don’t break it down … again,” the apartment manager said as he came huffing and puffing to the door.
“Roger? … Roger? … Are you in there?” The paramedic asked after the manager finally got the door open.
Driven by the feeling in his gut he followed the paramedics into the apartment. Roger was lying on his side on the floor with his oxygen tank lying just out of reach. The paramedics positioned themselves on either side of him and got to work.
“Roger, can you hear me?” One of the paramedics asked while the other started to take vitals.
JJ could see him lying there in his normal attire of a t-shirt and boxers. In one of his hands, he had an envelope.
“Roger, we are going to reposition you to better work on you,” the paramedic said as he tried to roll him onto his back and then tried to take the envelope out of his hand.
“Nnnn,” Roger said and gripped the envelope tighter.
“I need you to let go of that so that we can work on you. I think you had a stroke and we need to help you.” The paramedic said.
“Nnnn, Jjjjjj.” Roger tried to say.
Hearing what he wanted to believe was Roger calling for him, JJ walked over to get closer to him.
“HHHH, JJJJJjjj,” Roger said when he caught sight of JJ.
“I think he is trying to give you the envelope,” the paramedic said. “Take it so we can try and save him.”
JJ bent over, and Roger almost hit him with the envelope as he tried to hand it to him. It was obvious that he had suffered a stroke; his movements were jerky, and JJ had to finally take his hand so that Roger could hand it to him. He let go of the envelope, and then his arm dropped, and the paramedics were finally able to get started on saving him.
The feeling in JJ’s chest went away, and he was able to go back to his apartment.
He was just opening his door when his pager went off. He dropped the envelope onto the dining table and then turned around to go back to the bar and return the page.
***
“Table games,” a voice said when the JJ’s call was answered.
“I am returning a page,” JJ said.
“One second,” the phone handset was put down, and JJ could hear mumbling voices and some music.
JJ stood there listening to the music coming through the handset for a few moments when a drunk guy came up to him. “Hey, buddy, do you have a cigarette?” the guy asked.
“I don’t smoke,” JJ said. When he turned to respond, his nose was assaulted by the odor.
“Come on, man, just a cigarette,” the guy said, sharing not only his Guinness Book of Records-level body odor but also breath from a mouth that had not seen a toothbrush in a decade.
“I don’t have any cigarettes,” JJ said. The phone on the other end was still sitting on a table.
“I know you have one, let me have it,” the guy insisted.
“No, I don’t have one,” JJ said.
“Don’t lie to me, I know you have one, Simon,” the guy said.
“I don’t have …” JJ started, then realized the guy had called him by his original name. “What did you call me?”
“What, I didn’t call you anything, mister, if you don’t have a cigarette, just say so.” The guy said. The odor that had almost knocked JJ out was gone, and the mouth that only had a couple of teeth was now a full set of bright whites.
JJ just stared for a moment while the guy walked over to the cigarette vending machine and purchased a pack.
“What? Why are you staring at me?” The guy asked. He was dressed in a sports coat and dress pants.
“This is Paul. How can I help you?” A voice on the phone asked.
The drunk retrieved his pack of cigarettes and then walked back to the bar, shaking his head.
“Oh yeah, I received a page from this number,” JJ said.
It ended up being one of the pit areas at the Tropicana, and they were calling him for his cooler abilities. He told them he would be over there in about half an hour.