The Cone The Cone - Issue #15 - 2018 | Page 56

The Carlyle! An uptown club where politicians had their palms greased by businessmen, where Judges fell into the pockets of the town bosses and where the staff was tight lipped. If you were looking for a beautiful woman there was probably no better place to start a search. Fortunately for me I knew from the photos that Twilight had indeed come through the doors sometime in December. Was it a Christmas celebration with Mr. Brevis? Champagne, caviar and dancing. I couldn’t for the life of me picture Brevis scuffing up his Italian leather shoes doing a two step. But when you have the kind of money Brevis is throwing around you get other people to do the sweating for you. Which is exactly what I was doing as I slipped through the large ornately decorated glass doors. It was still early, the Carlyle didn’t really open for business until most wives and children had been put to bed. Waiters were checking their tables, the busboys were scampering in and out of doors as they ferried an assortment of items to get the club ready for the evening. A few of the doormen were eating an early dinner of fried chicken, rolls, cold German Potato salad and bottles of cold beer that were weeping into the table cloth. They looked up mid conversation and eyed me as I nonchalantly walked to the long bar at the far end of the dining hall. I waited expecting one of them to come up and harass me, but they quickly fell back into conversation and let me be. The bartender, a guy named Red, who I recognized from a previous visit, was busily checking his liquor levels and putting his ducks in a row. He looked up at me as I slid onto the plush bar stool. ‘What can I do for you shamus?’ he asked placing the bottle in his hands on the bar between us, ‘You aren’t here for a drink cause we’re not open yet.’ ‘Ah, Red I thought I could get an early bird special.’ ‘You’re a laugh, what’s the name again? Woodman? Rockford? —‘ ‘Stone! But you were barking up the right tree. I was hoping you could point me in the direction of someone named Tully.’ He leaned forward across the bar and slid his hand closer to the bottle that was sitting there like a promise. But a promise of what, that was the question. ‘Could be I know someone by that name Stone. What’s it to you?’ ‘I’m holding a keep sake for him. I’m thinking he’ll at least want to see it.’ At that he fell out into a laugh and leaned back. The tension had suddenly broken and the air that filled my lungs felt good as I realized I had been holding my breath. ‘You are a laugh at that Stone. I can see you’re about as lost as a babe in the woods and I think I will take pity on you.’ He reached under the counter and pulled out a small shot glass and set it down in front of me. Reaching under the counter again he pulled up a tall dark bottle. Pulled the silver topped cork and poured a good shot. I started to reach for it when he slowed my hand. ‘This ain’t for you shamus. Like I said. We aren’t open yet. This is for Tully. Now take this glass, don’t spill and head to that corner booth.’ I gave Red a nod as I gingerly lifted the shot glass and eased myself away from the bar. I could hear him snickering behind my back as I made my way to the booth. I looked back as I began to sit and noticed that the doormen who had been dining were no where to be seen. That really didn’t mean much, well, not until it meant something and I hoped I wouldn’t have to stay long enough for that to happen. I sat in the booth staring at the empty seat across from me and the shot glass that sat there like an offering to a deity. 56 THE CONE - ISSUE #15 - 2018