21 March 2013

Trigger Challenge: Use one or more of 5 prompt phrases. I chose: “It sounds unlikely, but when I tell you…”

A Slow Night At Manual’s

“So, set em up, Joe.”

“Certainly Mr. Howe. Your usual double?”

“Of course. I’ll bet you’ve never had anyone use that line on you?”

“Well, since my name is Bobby, not really too often”. At least not since the last time you were in here”. Bobby thought to himself, “Oh its going to be another long evening.”

“Kind of dead in here tonight,” Henry Howe said looking up and down the old wood bar of Manual’s Tavern.

On the long wall behind the bar, neon beer signs, photos of past patrons, semi celebrities and politicians competed for space with dusty bottles of unused liquors, unusual whiskeys and no longer brewed beers. Along the wall opposite the bar were the wooden booths with high backs separating the occupants from the booths on either side.. A good place not to be seen…if you didn’t want to be. They were mostly used by the older gents who were there with younger women from their offices, inevitably introduced to Bobby as their “nieces”.

And it was true, this night was relatively slow. In the summer there was so much else to do in the town rather than sit out the night at Manual’s. Bobby had been through many summers, and winters, at Manuals. All the regulars, or would be’s, entered, and sat down at the bar with a big, “Hey Bobby. How’s it going?” That was what made them feel at home and comfortable and showed to the others they belonged to the club. The club of the lonely and lost who often found themselves at Manuals.

Bobby preferred the busy nights. Then he could keep himself in motion and not have to stand still and listen to the long stories spun out by those who wanted to hear themselves talk, or needed to. Bobby was a good listener, it was a requirement of the trade. But some people, like Henry Howe, abused that skill and came for the sympathy and the understanding they believe Bobby reserved just for them. And this looked like it was going to be one of those evenings with no escape.

Only a few of the booths were occupied and Bobby had already put in their food orders to Paco, the cook, via the passthrough between the end of the bar and the kitchen behind.

As he was still waiting on the orders to come out, he busied himself at the sink facing the bar, washing drink glasses left over from the after work crowd.

Henry slid his scotch glass down the bar to the stool across from the sink and perched up on it.

‘You know Bobby, it sounds unlikely but when I tell you I used to have it all, I really did”

“How’s that?” replied Bobby, not thinking of the word pun.

“Oh, pretty good one there Bobby. How’s that?” Henry repeated, and laughed with scotch augmented gusto. “ Actually it was Howe’s what?”

“What do you mean Mr Howe?”

“I was an accountant you know. Really lots of clients. Part of a big firm with my name on the door too. Perhaps you heard of them, “Dewy, Cheatham and Howe.” I was the “Howe”. We had all the big sports stars as part of our stable. Those guys made so much money that they needed some big time accountants to help them keep track of it, and to keep as much of it as they could from the tax man… and the ex wives… and the girlfriends. They had high cash flows with the hangers on and the medicinal purchases they had to make to keep themselves going. If you get my meaning?”

“I guess I do Mr. Howe. You were in the service business. I understand that myself.”

“Wish I’d thought of that Bobby, that would have been a great line to give a client. No, I was in the money business. As long as they had money, I had money. And they had lots of money. It was a pretty high life for sure, if you get my meaning?”

“I think I do Mr Howe.” Bobby was used to listening automatically with a few grunts and “how about thats” which of course he made sure he did not use with Henry. He did not want to get too engaged.

Just then the bell rang from the pass through and he had to pick up two number 46’s to take out to the end booth where two guys sat drinking beer and looking up at the tv mounted on the wall showing the local ball club playing an away game. All the regulars just ordered by the number on the menu without referring to the actual content of the item. Bobby usually ordered for them without asking.

By the time he got back, Henry had finished his drink and had pushed the glass over to the other side of the bar next to where Bobby would arrive.

“Set me up another one Joe. But better make it a single with lots of rocks.”

“Are you ok Mr Howe? You’ll still have to make the drive home tonight.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I had a nice big meal at home with the Mrs. She sent me out for a pack of cigarettes, so I’ll have to be going soon.”

“Now where was I? Oh yeah. Things were going great at the firm. Every time we signed a new client, the partners would all get a nice bonus. Having athletes for clients is such great PR. Everyone wants a piece of them. There are advertising contracts and personal appearances and memorabilia and image control fees for use of their photo. Pretty soon you are involved in managing just about every part of their lives. They want big houses and big cars and bigger women… if you know what I mean?”

“Old Mr Dewey, who started the firm was never really comfortable with that part of the business. He felt that accountants should just do audits and tax forms and the bookkeeping in and out of the money. But Jack Cheatham, he’s the one who brought in the first superstar, Bret Grimes, the famous footballer. You probably have heard of him.”

“This is a sports bar Mr Howe, we always have games on the tube. Certainly I’ve heard of him.” For Bobby, this was a rare bit of peevishness shown to a customer. But Henry’s story was going on long and Bobby felt trapped behind the bar with Henry in front of him.

Not picking up on the tone in Bobby’s voice, Henry droned on. “ Yeah once we had that one big guy, all the others started flocking to our stable, to mix a metaphor. We had basketballers and golfers and hocky sticks, I mean players. Ha, a little inside joke, hockey players are so dumb from being hit in the head with the puck all the time I guess.”

“Cheatham brought me in to be the hand holder for all those guys. I would be on call day and night, when they needed money, or had money problems, or any problems, they called me. So I had to always have a lot of cash on hand, if you know what I mean?”

“Cash flow was always a problem with these guys. While they made a lot of money, it was all tied up on long term contracts and investments of one sort of another. And then one night, I got a call from Gil Spence the basketball player guy. You heard of him too I assume Bobby?”

“Anyway, he had been picked up outside a grungy club down town with a strange lady, not his wife, if you know what I mean. He used his one call to get me to come down to the police station to bail him out. I had to gather all the cash I had and when I got there the newspaper photo guys had already been tipped off. And our role in his life became known and then all hell broke loose.”

“I’d had to raid a few of the other accounts to get enough cash together, if you know what I mean. And when the publicity hit the fan, some of our other clients panicked and wanted to liquidate their relationship with us. I did not realize the extent to which we had been using client money to keep the enterprise going. And Jack Cheatham skipped town. He was manipulating their accounts all along and leveraging client money for other purposes, if you know what I mean.”

“Wow, Mr Howe, I had no idea,” Bobby commented with real compassion.

“Yeah, He left old Mr. Dewey and me holding the bag. And since Dewey was such a kind looking, elder gent, I was the one who took the fall. I had spent all my time baby sitting these guys and had left the money management to Jack. I was such a sucker for that high life. So I lost pretty much everything including my first wife, the suits, the cars, the houses…my accountant’s license. It was some tough years, if you know what I mean. Now I just do bookkeeping for the Salvation Army. But its a job. Funny thing though, I always seem to be working in situations with great cash flow…if you know what I mean.

Just then the phone rang behind the bar. Bobby picked it up, “Manual’s.” He listened a second, said, “Hang on,” took the phone away from his face and yelled out to the room, “Henry Howe!”

Henry popped up off the stool onto his feet. Shaking his head and putting his finger to his lips in the universal “say nothing” sign, he headed down the hall toward the back door, throwing some bills on the bar as he moved.

Bobby waived him a goodbye with a thumbs up, then turned back to the phone. “Hey Bill! Thanks for the call. How’s it going?”