Heroes in the Night

A fictional story by Jose Bello

I'd met a few famous people in my taxi.  Some were well known, some lesser known.  And because of my lack of interest in sports and even less an interest in team sports, I'd not recognized still others.  I just didn't care.  Now, people in the movies or TV, they were the ones I felt good about having had in my cab; even the smallest of encounters with.  Although, despite the popularity of  “The Untouchables” TV series, I'm sure I would've recognized Walter Winchell, when I picked him up on the east side of Manhattan one night.  Also on the east side, along Lexington Avenue one night, I picked up Mickey Spillane, the famous detective story novelist.  Mind you, I didn't recognize him right away.  I was cruising down Lexington Avenue, when this older guy comes hurrying from the top of the stairs at the Fifty Second Street station of the subway, hand high in the air, hailing me.

“Take me down to the Village.”  He says.  “You know where “Murphy's” is?” 

I said:  “No.”

So, he says “OK, but I gotta' make a stop at a newsstand first, OK?”

And I said:  “Sure” and off we went.  We see a newsstand and I stop by the curb.  He gets out to pick up a paper and I notice his picture on the cover of one of the magazines, with his name under the picture, hanging on a line.  And in the picture he's even wearing the same sport coat and fedora he's wearing that night!  And of course, now I recognize who he is!  Although, I was no fan.  Not because I didn't like his stories; I'm sure now I probably would liked them.  But at the time, I wasn't a reader!  I didn't read much of anything!

So, I said:  "Wow, I thought I recognized you.  You're Mickey Spillane!"

And Mickey says:  "Yeah.  You like detective mysteries?"

I said:  "Well, to be honest, I don't get enough time to commit to written stories.  I read too damn slow.”

And Mickey said:  "No shame in that, kid.  You're living your 'real life'.  Maybe one day you'll write about some of the things you're living now.  I'll bet you're seeing some weird things working at night."

I said:  "I sure do."  So, we get to the Village and he directs me to a street I'd never been on. (No surprise I hadn't been a cabbie too long.)    

He said to me: "Drop me off at the corner,....Murphy's, the bar, there."  Then he says:  “Park it and come inside.   I'm meeting a couple 'a friends for a drink." 

So, I park my Yellow right there in front of the johnny pump, having been pumped by the presence of Mickey.  Up the three caddy-corner steps, under the green pigeon crap covered awning, and in the door I go.  Three old guys sittin' on stools to my right sippin' beers.  They might as well have been cardboard figures!  A silent TV played a football game no one gave a crap about.  Looking around the room with its incandescent chandeliers, yellowed nicotine wall paper, I see a wigged head lost between her own elbows, face down on a table.  Some old coot playing with her hair, eyes closed and mumbling to her from across the table. 

Just then I hear a hissing sound from the lips of none - other than famed author, Hunter Thompson, standing by a door at the back of the room, a forefinger over his lips (indicating "SILENCIO”) and waving for me to follow through the door he held open.  I hesitated, taken by the weirdness of the moment, before rushing over small hexagonal tiles of white and maroon that were the floor  -  I'm guessing since the nineteen thirties.  I go through the door.

Instantly I was transported to what resembled a twenties speak-easy.  Then, looking up from the card game I was now attending at a round table, I saw that I was playing cards with Hunter Thompson, Mickey Spillane, and Ernest Hemingway, who's irate and impatiently saying to me:  "You're holdin' up the game, kid!  You know that?!"

And Mickey, sitting between us says:  "Hey, take it easy with the kid.  He's my cabbie!  He's with me."

And Hemingway says:  "Alright, alright!  Don't get yer undies in a bundle!  You've got most of our bread.  One more hand and we'll have your “royal” royalties by day break.”  And I was thinking, what have I gotten myself into?!  My Yellow's probably being towed, right now!  -  Is this real?

I'm holding a hand and I have no idea what I'm doing. You see, I don't play cards! Never have! And I'm staring at my cards, wanting to do the next thing. But just what would that be?  No idea. Not a clue.  Now, Hunter's in my face.  He whispers:  "If you don't make a play, Ernie may just blow you away with that old revolver on the table.  He's been losing all night and he's getting mighty impatient, kid!!” So, now I feel cards coming out of my hands one by one and Mickey's standing beside me, head back, laughing.  “Great move, kid! - Look out Ernie!  Looks like beginner's luck's got hold of ' im.  Look at those beauties he's thrown out! - AHA, HA, HA, HA......"

Now, I look at the cards that flew outa' my hands and onto the table.  Mickey's praising my move.  But, I don't know how it happened.  Hunter Thompson, chompin' at a stub of a dried up cigar between his teeth, winks at me.  Hemingway appears totally incredulous, and throws down his hand in frustration.  I Fear For My Life;  what hand?  What  IS HAPPENING?? - Spillane, smiles and winks.  He offers: 

"Listen kid, it's been a fun time.  I hope you appreciate me wanting to get you some winnings at the table here.  But, we don't play for winnings, least not actual money.  We're way past that now.  We seen too much of life to know 'winnings' set up by mortal beings are nothing more than bull!  Real winnings are dealt to those who regard happy, touchy, feely stuff of the heart.  We never did appreciate that enough in our time.  You'll know what I mean when you're outa'  here and living your real life again..............”

"Hey, Cabbie!  Wake up, man!.......Are you on duty or are you -  Not On Duty!? - Cabbie! - Hey...."  The voice was coming from a big round, tired and angry dude staring in at me from the passenger side window of my Yellow Cab.

Stunned, alone in my cab, I remembered -  YES, YES, YES.  OF COURSE -  I'M ON DUTY! ! ..... I unlocked the back door and let him in.

 

 Read also free pages of the author's life story:  "Marine Tigers: A NewyoRican Story" at Amazon.com