Walking into the empty club made him feel how inspirational it was to grow up quitting school in Chicago, nickname Sparky, scalping tickets outside fight arenas, selling carnations in dance halls, and now he is a club owner, a known face, with ads in the paper, as only America can turn out.
He went to his office and called the local IRS and told them he had to postpone the meeting they'd scheduled because he was unable to get his records properly compiled. A phrase his attorney had suggested. They made a new appointment and he promised to bring thirteen hundred cash to ease the matter of delinquency. Another phrase.
He went to the bar, poured a glass of water and swallowed another Preludin. To speed the day along and help him think positive. The phone rang in his office. He hurried in and picked up. It was George at the apartment. The call had come. The man was in town. Tony Astorina. Carousel at noon.
The dogs in the back room were barking to be let out. Jack went down to the car and drove a block and a half to the Ritz Delicatessen. He bought half a dozen sandwiches and beverages and drove right back.
His brother Sam called. He had some new production ideas for those plastic spinners, those twirly things that spin on high wires in front of service stations and car lots for a festive appearance.
The Times Herald called.
A stripper named Double DeLite called.
KLIF called.
Detective Russell Shively called.
His brother Earl called. He tried to talk Jack out of the twist-board idea. Jack wanted to manufacture an exercise device consisting of two fiberboards with some kind of ball-bearing disks between them and you stand on the boards and twist and shimmy, for fun and body tone both.
Tony Astorina walked in, doing a friendly little boxer's bob and weave. It looked like all the motion he was capable of. He had that expression of where's the coffee. Jack had coffee right here. They talked a little preliminaries. Tony was about forty but dressed young. His eyes were getting slirty inside the looming flesh. He said there was a place he had to be in forty-five minutes. He made it sound important. Jack did not want to hear this kind of remark. He wanted to believe Tony was involved in this conversation, not just passing by, passing time.
The barking in the back room was feeble and hoarse, like dogs in some Chinese village.
Then Tony said, "Loanshark is not our thing, Jack. There are people I can refer you. But I wouldn't be truthful if I said it could happen. These clubs, I don't know, they're shaky propositions."
"The boys know me in four cities, five cities."
"Your reputation is Jack Ruby is one tough Jew. To put it plain. He goes back to the unions."
"Scrap Iron and Junk Handlers."
"He did a lot of things you can give him credit."
"I brawl too much. It's this temperament where I lash out. I follow the theory you take the play away. You barrel in hard and fast before they even know they're in a dispute. Ten seconds later I'm a baby."
"But I'm making the point. The point isn't temperamental. It's a question of where's the money coming from to pay back."
"From business. From the clubs. Plus some ventures I'm planning in other vicinities. I'm saying you are close to Carmine."
"Carmine. I can't go to Carmine with something like this. Carmine has enormous, don't even get me started-things going on you can't believe. You think he does business all day long? He has an organization to do the business. The man is in conference. He has meets all the time. He's running a country, Jack."
"I'm saying you put a word in his ear. You plant an idea."
"There's so much stuff they put in front of him. Things from out of nowhere, I never heard of. Like I just found out about Kennedy and that woman. It went on two years. Mo talked to Carmine all the time."
"What woman?"
"You know Mo?"
"Giancana."
"Sam."
"Giancana."
"For two years Kennedy is ramming this woman that's Sam's mistress. I don't know the first thing. They do it in New York. They do it in L.A. They find like twenty minutes in Chicago, bing bang, when he's there for a fund-raising."
Jack was trying to draw himself a picture.
"And Carmine gets reports. She saw him here, she saw him there. He said this, he said that. Two years, Jack. They did it in the White House."
Jack could not conceive of a situation whereby the President of the United States would be fucking the girlfriend of Momo Gian-cana. There had to be a mistake somewhere. This is a guy from the Patch in Chicago, from Dago Town, four or five blocks from where Jack grew up. Jack used to be personal friends with two of Mo's enforcers. He'd been hearing Giancana's name for decades. Since the days he was called Mooney. A wheelman for the 42 Gang. Fifty or sixty arrests. Time in Joliet. Time in Leavenworth. A powerful figure today. Chicago, Las Vegas, etc. But sharing a woman with the President? Jack knew it was going to be hard to swing the conversation back to a loan for a failing business.
Tony was still in his chair but only technically. There was an air of departure, a small restlessness that Jack could trace to his hands, like a smoker who quits.
"Jack, I come by here for old time."
"We used to swim on the Capri roof."
"I'm saying. I didn't come by for the coffee."
"Tony. I appreciate."
"I come by because we go back together."
"We got laid in adjoining rooms."
"Havana, madonn'."
"Tony, I have plans I'm painting the club. A whole new scheme. I want to feature a silky type red, like an old-timey red. The convention business picks up soon. If Carmine could see his way clear to just think about this for a couple of minutes, riding in the car someday."
"I wish I could leave you some ray of light."
"I appreciate."
"I only drive the man around. In fact I'll tell you the most important thing I do for Carmine. Every morning I put him in his vest. I tie him in nice."
"What vest?"
"His vest. His body armor. He's running a fucking country."
They shook hands at the top of the stairs. Then Tony embraced Jack, who felt the emotion of the moment.
"There's something I want to do. I want to send you a twist-board. I have this twistboard I want you to try. Test model. Tony. We used to swim."
Jack called George Senator at the apartment.
He called his sister Eva.
He called Rabbi Hillel Silverman.
He called Lynette Batistone, Randi Ryder, to tell her she couldn't have the night off after all. Double DeLite was sick to her stomach in Grand Prairie.
Jack opened the door to the back room and the dogs shot out madcap and scrambling. There is a thing about the trust of a dog that makes up for a lot of heartache we take in this life. He plucked Sheba from the tumble of fur and went down to the car. He drove one block to the bank. He drove to the Sheraton and went into the coffee shop to tell the girl at the register a joke he knew would knock her to the floor. He drove to some stores looking for a certain food supplement for dieters. He heard police sirens and thought about following, just for a little adrenaline, but felt uninterested all of a sudden, down in the dumps.