My Friend Leonard (9 page)

 

I
t is eight
A
.
M
. As I walk toward my building, I see a white Mercedes sitting at the curb. I enter the building, the door to my apartment is open. I step inside, see Leonard and Snapper standing in front of my refrigerator. The refrigerator door is open and there are brown paper bags on the floor.

Leonard.

They turn around.

My son, my son.

Leonard steps toward me.

How are you?

He hugs me.

I'm okay. What are you doing here?

Filling your fridge.

You came here to fill my fridge?

No, but when we arrived, we saw it was empty.

You gotta stop breaking in, Leonard.

Get a better lock and we'll stop breaking in. The lock you got is a fucking joke.

Snapper speaks.

I'm the one who actually does it, Kid, and it's real easy. You're lucky you ain't been robbed.

Leonard laughs.

Look at this place. Who would rob him? He's got nothing to steal.

I step toward the refrigerator.

What are you putting in there?

Snapper speaks.

We got shit from all five food groups.

Leonard speaks.

Fruits, vegetables, proteins, grains and dairys.

Snapper speaks.

We got them all.

I laugh.

It's dairy, not dairys.

I know, but it's funnier saying dairys. Say it.

Dairys.

I laugh.

Told ya. Dairys is funnier.

I laugh again.

Thank you. For all five food groups.

And that's not all.

Leonard opens the cabinets. They're filled with cans of soup, boxes of rice and boxes of pasta, jars of tomato sauce.

Snapper speaks.

I got something special for you in there.

He steps over, pulls down a box.

Rice-A-Roni. The motherfucking San Francisco treat.

I laugh.

Thanks.

Leonard speaks.

You're still too skinny, my son. If you're gonna be a doorman at a bar you're gonna need to gain some weight. We drove by last night and saw you standing out there and you do not look particularly menacing.

You drove by to see me?

We did.

Why?

That's why we're here.

To talk to me about my job?

Yup.

What about my job?

Let's go down to the hotel, get some breakfast. We'll talk down there.

I need some sleep.

Then get some sleep, come down for lunch.

What time?

One?

Okay.

Leonard turns to Snapper.

You finished?

Yeah. Let's go. He needs some sleep.

Okay.

Leonard turns to me.

See you at one.

Snapper speaks.

See ya, Kid.

I speak.

Thanks for the food.

Leonard speaks.

Eat some of it. Right now. Get fat.

Snapper speaks.

Yeah, get fat.

I laugh. Bye.

They walk out. I lie down, sleep, wake-up, take a shower. I am confident now I take the El train downtown, walk to the hotel from the train. I ride up the elevator, walk through the lobby, Leonard is waiting for me in the restaurant, I sit down with him.

Where's Snapper?

He's out working. You sleep well?

I never sleep well.

You will.

I guess.

You hungry?

Yeah.

Leonard motions for the waitress, orders steaks and French fries for each of us, turns back to me.

Now tell me, how the fuck you end up working at a bar?

I laugh.

Tell me how you know I work at a bar and I'll tell you how I ended up there.

I had someone looking out for you. They told me.

Who?

Doesn't matter.

You got some flunky following me around?

I'm just looking out for you.

I can look out for myself.

Why you working at a bar?

It was the only job I could get.

Come on, you're a smart kid. You can do better than that.

I applied for a few different jobs, nobody wanted to hire me. I don't exactly have a sparkling resume.

It's unacceptable.

It's fine, Leonard.

You're an alcoholic and you're a drug addict. You've only been clean a couple months. You can't work at a bar. It's crazy and stupid and dangerous.

I actually work in front of the bar. I stand there and pick my ass for hours on end. It might be stupid and it might be boring, but it's not crazy or dangerous.

Until you feel like you want a drink and you go inside.

I feel like I want a drink all the fucking time. And if I decide I want one, it won't be hard to get one, regardless of where I am.

It's unacceptable, my son.

You got a better idea?

I do.

What's that?

Come work for me.

I laugh.

Yeah, that's a great idea.

Why not?

Because I've got a record, because I'm trying to stay out of trouble, because an arrest of any kind means I go away for three to five.

I got good lawyers, you won't go anywhere.

I laugh.

That makes me feel better.

It should. You'll have the power of an entire organization behind you.

I laugh again.

That's what I'm afraid of, Leonard.

I won't let you work at a bar.

It's not a matter of what you will or will not let me do.

I'll say it differently—I can offer you a much better opportunity than you have at the bar.

Gonna make me an offer I can't refuse?

Leonard laughs.

I can offer you a much better opportunity.

What would I do?

Pick things up and take them places.

I laugh again.

Pick things up and take them places?

Yes, indeed.

I wouldn't want to know what I might be picking up.

That would probably be best.

Our steaks come, we start eating. We do not talk about my new opportunity. We talk about basketball, we talk about the upcoming baseball season, we talk about the cold, he hates it. We talk about our steaks, they're good, we talk about our fries, they're hot and crispy. When we're finished, we order coffee and ice cream sundaes, he gets hot fudge, I get caramel. I finish my sundae, light a cigarette, speak.

Will I do anything legal?

Depends on your definition of legal.

How about according to your definition?

There are very few things illegal according to my definitions.

If I get caught, I'll be in big fucking trouble.

You won't get caught. And if you do, I'll take care of you.

I think, take a drag, take another.

My son.

I look up.

If you don't say yes, I'll buy the bar and fire you.

I laugh.

I'm nervous, Leonard. I'm trying to live a better life, trying to be a better person. I do not want to get locked up again.

I understand, and think that working for me will only help. You won't have any financial pressure, you won't have a boss screaming at you, you'll have as much time as you need to figure out your shit.

How long are you in town?

As long as it takes to get you to say yes.

What are you gonna do tonight?

I thought we'd take you to a firing range, make sure you're handy with a weapon.

You better be fucking kidding.

He laughs.

We're going out. Going to a basketball game, then having dinner. I'm gonna introduce you to some people that you should know.

Sounds cool.

What are you gonna do for the rest of the day?

I don't know. Go walk around.

You should give notice at the bar.

I'll think about it.

No thinking, my son. Just do.

What are you gonna do for the rest of the day?

Snapper's picking me up. We have to run some errands.

Errands?

He chuckles, nods.

Yes, errands.

What time should I meet you?

Seven.

Cool.

I stand.

Thanks for lunch.

Get fat.

I laugh.

See you at seven.

I leave. Down the elevator and outside. It's cold and gray, always cold and gray. I start walking. Think about where I want to go I have no idea. The temperature is below zero, I'm going to need to make stops every ten minutes or so, it's too cold too cold. I stop in a clothing store, they sell suits for thousands of dollars, a man in a security uniform follows me up and down the aisles. I stop in a coffee shop, I don't order anything just sit at a table in the corner and breathe. I walk into the lobby of a famous building built by a chewing gum company. The floor is marble, the walls
are marble, the ceiling is marble. The walls and ceiling have been carved, covered with flowers, intricate patterns, saints, gods, little snarling gargoyles, big snarling gargoyles. I walk into a fast food restaurant, a comic book store, a jeweler I get followed by another guard. I keep walking, walk into an office building quickly walk out, walk into an art museum take off my coat. The museum is offering free admission, as it does one day a week, I start wandering through the galleries. I stand beneath angels and saints, beneath the son of god, beneath his mother, beneath beheaded martyrs, sobbing virgins, angry popes, beneath marching armies, generals astride their mounts, looted burning ravaged cities. I stare at dead game, fruits and vegetables in a market, Dutch fishing boats, Merrymakers in an inn, Rinaldo being enchanted by Armida. I stare at Cupid firing arrows, the Crystal Palace, at the Seine, at Bennecourt. I watch a woman at a piano she does not move just stares at the keys making music I can't hear. I meet Henri de Gas and his niece Lucie de Gas, I walk through Paris, rainy day, wait for the arrival of the Normandy train at the Gare Saint-Lazare. I confront the Portrait of Man. He stares at me. I stare back, waiting for answers. I get none.

I spend hours slowly moving from room to room. I try to get as close to the paintings as possible. I close one eye and look at the individual strokes made by the painters. I close both eyes and try to smell the oil. I stand as far away as I can, walk forward the image coming gradually closer. I want to rub my hands along the surface, but don't want to set off an alarm or get arrested. Sometimes I talk to the paintings, to the figures in the paintings. I ask a farmer how's the weather, I ask a singer what's the song, I ask a baby what's your name, I ask a young woman why are you crying? I stand in front of Vincent's self-portrait. Vincent who knew pain and failure, who knew self-doubt and insanity, who cut off his ear, who shot himself. I know Vincent well. I have nothing to say to him.

I leave the museum at closing time. I walk back to the hotel, stopping along the way to get warm. When I arrive I wait in the lobby. Five minutes later, Leonard and the Snapper step out of an elevator, start walking toward me. I stand meet them halfway. Leonard speaks.

My son.

What's up?

Snapper speaks.

How ya doing, kid?

Good.

Leonard speaks.

Ready for some basketball?

Yeah.

Good.

We leave, go downstairs, pick up the car, drive to the stadium. The stadium is old and decrepit. It was built in the 1920s and is scheduled to be destroyed this summer, replaced by a newer version being built across the street. When we arrive we pull through rusted gates to an area of guarded parking, the parking lot where the players and team owners park. We get out of the car, walk into the stadium through a guarded door. We enter a series of tunnels beneath the main seating area of the stadium. We walk past locker rooms, training areas, administrative offices. We walk past men and women in uniforms rushing around I have no idea what they do. We walk out of a tunnel and onto the court. It's near game-time and the stadium is almost full. The game, as all Chicago basketball games are, is sold out. Leonard pulls three tickets from the inside pocket of his jacket, hands one to me, one to Snapper. He walks along the edge of the court, we follow him. He stops at three seats near the center, motions for us to sit. Five minutes later the lights go out, loud music starts blaring through speakers hanging from the ceiling, the Chicago team is introduced and runs to their bench. The opposing team, which is from New York, enters without fanfare. Everyone stands while the national anthem is played, the game starts with the tipoff. Chicago's team is the reigning champion and their star player is considered the best basketball player in the world. New York can't keep up and they get obliterated. At half-time, Chicago leads by eighteen, they win the game by thirty. Leonard acts like a little kid throughout, cheering, laughing, jumping up and down, eating popcorn, hot dogs and ice cream bars, drinking large cola after large cola after large cola. I skip the popcorn and hot dogs, I eat eight ice cream bars and drink seven large colas. Snapper doesn't eat anything, says he's watching his figure and waiting for dinner.