I got up around noon and, walking through the Blue, I found new parts of my body that ached. Al opened his eyes just enough to see me and then went right back to sleep. I looked at the paper and the only thing that made it from last night was an arrest of a Lawrence Espidera for promoting prostitution and for kidnapping, and several arrests of the women for soliciting. There was also a mention of the parties resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. Seemed to me that they were missing a whole bunch of minor details, like the deployment of a radioactive bomb in the Bronx and the local connections to an international terrorist organization by a prominent area oncologist. Thank God, I didn’t make the news.
I poured myself some coffee and flipped on the TV. I forgot about Duffy’s cable world of “All Lifetime, All the Time,” but I didn’t have the energy or motivation to get up and do anything about it.
It was early afternoon on Sunday, which meant there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of programming on Lifetime except for infomercials. The one on in front of me was from Crawford Medical Center, and it was advertising their new state-of-the-art Incontinence Treatment Center. I didn’t really want to form any visuals about the state of the art of incontinence care, so, despite my fatigue and pain, I started to get up to change the channel. No amount of pain would be worse than a half hour of incontinence treatment.
I got up and was at the TV when the hospital administrator, Dr. Broseph, came on. He was at his desk with his white lab coat on, talking about the pain and suffering that comes with incontinence. This was the asshole that was getting Rudy fired, and I felt my hand ball up in a fist as I listened to his saccharin-laced speech about person-centered patient care.
“… at Crawford, our mission is caring for the body and the spirit,” Broseph said. “It’s what makes the difference at Crawford. We care about you.”
I looked at his white coat and thought about the expression, “body and the spirit.”
I had an idea.
I threw on some clothes, took half a dozen Advil, woke up Al, and headed to AJ’s. The NFL season had started, and the Foursome would be there-they’d be hungover and miserable-but they’d be there.
I got there at halftime of the first game, which was good because I had a chance of getting some of their attention. They kept quiet during the game, but at the half they usually got right back into it.
“It fucks up the entire water supply for weeks,” Rocco said. He was clearly angry that Jerry Number One seemed to be doubting him. “Everyone is flushing at the same time during the commercials and the water pressure gets dangerously low.”
“I’ve taken a shit during a commercial on Super Bowl Sunday and everything went down okay,” Jerry Number Two said.
“It’s not that it won’t go down-” Rocco didn’t have time to finish before TC interrupted.
“You know, in South America the water swirls down the toilet the opposite way,” TC said.
“The opposite of what?” Jerry Number One said.
I decided it was as good a time as any to break in.
“Uh, fellas, I need some help,” I said. The Foursome stopped and looked at me.
“Rudy’s going to lose his job tomorrow unless we do something,” I said.
“Look, Duff, I like Rudy as much as the next guy, but what can we do to save a doctor from the hospital bigwig that has it in for him?” Rocco asked.
I had the Foursome huddle up and let them in on my plan. To a man they were all in. Rocco went home to get his hunting fatigues, portable generator, and high intensity lamp. TC went to get his boom box and the Boston Pops Fourth of July CD. Jerry Number One went to his son-in-law’s to borrow the deejay’s PA system, and Jerry Number Two went to get some of his high-end computer stuff. We were to meet back at AJ’s at 7:30 for a pre-game meal, actually several pre-game shots, with a plan of attack for 8:45.
I had a few phone calls to make and went back to the Blue to make them. The first was to Rudy, and I got his machine. I kept shouting into the receiver for him to pick up, but he was either out or too depressed to deal with me. I tried one last time, and after yelling “hey, pick up!” a few times, I just said, “Rudy, don’t worry about your job. We’re about to take care of things.” And I hung up.
The next call was to set things up. I made the call to my contact discreetly and agreed on a code phrase to let everyone know when to get things started. I wasn’t sure if this was going to work, but it was going to be fun trying. It was the least I could do for Rudy.
I got to AJ’s half an hour early and with the pain I was in, I had doctor AJ write me a prescription for a couple of Jim Beams. Within minutes, the Foursome were in and they were ready to go to work. We all got into the Eldorado, and although Rocco wasn’t pleased to have Al step on his balls, he was happy when Al decided to sit on TC’s lap.
We parked a half-mile away from where things were going to happen because I didn’t want the headlights to alert anyone ahead of time or scare anyone away. Rocco was in charge of reconnaissance and he went on ahead, walking the first quarter-mile and then crawling commando-style on his belly to get in position just ten feet from the spot. Through the darkness, I could see him set up the generator and have the lights in position.
TC gave me the thumbs-up with the boom box cued to the right track. Jerry Number One saluted me, letting me know the PA was ready and Jerry Number Two, at my right flank, said the battery was charged and everything was a go.
We waited in silence as I kept my eyes on my watch and counted down the time. The only sound in the pitch-black park was the tapping of Al’s tail on the grass.
We listened and waited. There was a stirring and a rustle in the bushes. I looked at my watch, and it was right on schedule. The Foursome were quiet and I could feel the intensity of the anticipation. Then the call came, albeit in a slightly lisped voice.
“The doctor is in!” Froggy yelled.
Rocco hit the switch and flooded the bushes with light. TC hit the boom box and John Williams led the most resounding version of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” that you ever wanted to hear. Jerry Number Two quietly but officially said, “Rolling tape.”
Right on cue, Jerry Number One began announcing.
“Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the administrator of Crawford Medical Center, the one, the only… Doctor Albert Broseph… uh, and his friend Froggy! Hey, Doc, it really sucks to be you tonight!”
There in the bushes, on his knees, doing unmentionables to a very happy Froggy, was Rudy’s arch nemesis. He was frozen and looked like he was going to choke, but not for the reasons you might think. I guess after tonight, no one could ever accuse him of not giving person-centered service to the Medicaid population. Jerry handed me the mic.
“Hey, Doc, you may be wondering what we’re all doing here tonight.” TC turned down the music slightly, and Jerry Number Two moved in for a close-up of the administrator on his knees in front of a naked-from-the-waist-down Frogman. “It’s very simple. We’re friends of Doctor Rudy and we don’t want to see him lose his job. We have all of tonight’s activities on DVD and would be happy to upload all of it to the Crawford Medical Center website. Of course, we won’t do that as long as Rudy has his job. Understand?” I said.
Broseph nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Broseph yelled through his tears. He looked more angry than shocked.
“Good, now get the fuck out of here!”
Broseph hurried to his feet, already running in the direction of the parking lot before he got his knickers all the way up and his shirt tucked in. As he ran off into the horizon, a spontaneous cheer went up from the Foursome with Al adding a baritone harmony.
“Nice work, gentlemen,” I yelled in my best George C. Scott as General George Patton voice. “Tonight, I’m buying!” I looked over to the Frogster and we exchanged the thumbs-up signal.
Cheers went up even louder. I had Rocco call Kelley on the cell and told him to do whatever he had to do to get Rudy to AJ’s. We exchanged handshakes and slaps on the backs and poured into the Eldorado for our victory ride back to our headquarters. It was a hell of a fun ride.
We all piled out, AJ poured five shots, and we toasted each other on a night well done. We were repeating the shot and carrying on with tonight’s war stories when Kelley walked in with Rudy behind him. It got really quiet as everyone looked at Rudy. His head was down, he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and he even looked like he had lost weight.
“Duffy, what the fuck are you up to? I’m in no mood for your bullshit tonight,” Rudy said.
“Is that any way to talk to the man who just saved your career?” AJ said from behind the bar.
“What? My career? My career is fucked as of tomorrow.”
A giggle came up from the Foursome and they could barely contain themselves.
“Aw shit, Jerry, let’s stop the suspense. Show Rudy how we spent our night,” I said.
Rudy was confused and sort of stumbled over to Jerry Number Two, who hit a button on the back of his space-age gadget. Rudy reluctantly watched the two-by-two screen like a guy who was being forced to hear a joke. Then he got a puzzled look on his face.
“What the?… that’s Broseph… sonofabitch…” Rudy looked up at me. “You… holy shit.” Rudy was stammering.
“Shhh, Rudy. Listen to Duffy’s speech,” Rocco said.
Rudy looked at the recording in disbelief. His eyes welled and he started to chuckle, at first almost silently and then louder. Before long he was bent over with his hands on his knees, laughing so hard I thought he would hurt himself.
“You crazy Irish-Polack bastard. C’mere,” Rudy said.
He gave me a bear hug that hurt my ribs and sent shivers of pain through my body. Rudy had tears on his cheeks and was laughing as he hugged every single one of the Foursome. Then he picked up Al and pirouetted around with him until the hound howled.
“You fuckin’ guys…” Rudy said, shaking his head.
“I’m guessin’ you got ol’ Broseph by the balls for as long as you want him,” TC said.
“That asshole blows anyways,” Jerry Number One said.
“Poor guy has had a frog in his throat for a long time,” Jerry Number Two added.
“Yeah, a long time ago, Froggy told me about some big-deal doc giving as much as getting in the park. He said something about him being on TV and talking about ‘body and spirit,’” I said. “It wasn’t hard to get the Frogster on board.”
“Looked pretty hard to me,” Rocco said.
Rudy looked me in the eyes and I saw him start to well up again. I raised my Schlitz to him and he toasted me back with his cognac. Mission accomplished.
We drank for a few hours and laughed until it hurt. It was a Sunday night, so the guys were starting to look at their watches and think about the workweek. Kelley came over with his Coors Light to say good night.
“There’s no doubt about it, man-you’re nuts,” he said, cracking a smile. “Shouldn’t a hard-working social worker type like you be heading home to meditate and get ready for a Monday in the business of saving lives?”
“Geez, Kel, I almost forgot. Tomorrow I’m getting fired. It’s the sixteenth.”
“I’m sorry, Duff, I forgot,” Kelley said.
“After this weekend, Kel, I’m not sure I care.”
Kel slapped me on the back and I headed out to the Eldorado with Al at my side. I thought about getting fired, and I had lied to Kelley. I did care, not because I was worried about Claudia or getting in trouble, but because sometimes, though I don’t like to admit it even to myself, I like helping people no one else wants to help.