my hotel was only a few blocks from gorman and gorman, the walk would do me good. halfway home, joe tuned his fiat a few feet in front of me. "hey beautiful," he said.

"go away, i don't want to talk with you." i was about to cry.

"we didn't say anything to upset you, did we babe?" i bent over and leaned my arms against joe's opened window.

"the whole fucking day has upset me, joe. i got up early, sat there at the president's conference, not knowing what in the hell to expect, then listened to you guys telling me how fucking sorry the world is, and everybody in it. now i'm tired, confused and want a moment to myself."

"please get in, carlee, at least let me drive you to your hotel." i gave in. he was acting almost human. "we're probably as confused and upset as you are honey, we really didn't know what to expect this morning, either. we had banked on a generous settlement, but lawyers are all conmen, maybe they were bluffing us, maybe they weren't, it'll all work out. by the way, you looked awfully nice up there, ty ty and i were both very proud of you." lawyers are all conmen, and i was a sucker for a few kind words. i couldn't help but smile. he stopped in front of my hotel. "now i'll call you as soon as we learn anything new baby, just don't worry." easy for you to say. i thought.

i waved at him as he pulled away. i walked through the lobby hoping no one would speak to me. frankie lamont did. "i haven't seen you for days carlee." frankie was from youngstown, ohio. he wore a white suite and a black tie, his white fedora hat pulled down over his right eye. his large black moustash stood brilliantly out. frankie fancied himself as al capone, he was divorced, he was alone, he liked to tell stories about his old mob days. he drew unemployment, and i thought him very sad.

"hi frankie, i'm sorry, i've been very busy," i smiled.

"hey, i've got a job interview tomorrow."

"really, that's great frankie, a hit?" i smiled again.

"naaa, nothing that dramatic, honest work, at the pizza hut." that saddened me.

"hey, ah, come up to my apartment and have a cup of coffee with me, i've got something i want to show you." i was a sucker for kind words, gosh, i needed some.

frankie lamont was in his early sixties, he had a room on the ground floor with a kitchenette. it was cheesy, but other than his white suit, it was all he had. he led me to his dining area, poured us a cup of stale but hot coffee. "just wait until you see what i received in the mail yesterday," he said, with pride. i was dying for a nap and one of shorty's finest hamburgers, but i would indulge this friend before i went to a funeral. frankie had daily maid service, but his place still smelled bad. i would die before i told him that though. he returned, all smiles, with a manila folder. "just wait until you see, carlee. wait, you remember that job i told you about in fifty seven?"

"the clancy arson job?" i asked.

"yeah, thats the one, lookee here." it was an ancient newspaper clipping, brown with age. a full blown picture of a far younger frankie lamont in a white suit, the caption read: "frank 'the hook' lamont, local gangster, found not guilty in the arson case of dr. jamie clancey." the rest of the print was so faded, it was impossible to read.

"gosh, frankie, how impressive, love the picture too." he blushed.

"only a fair likeness," he said. "my mama liked that picture as well as you though, carlee," he smiled. "mama never did learn english too well, but she told me that i looked just like jake lansky: 'the spittling image, francis, i so proud of you,' she'd say.

"your mom loved you quite a lot, frankie," i said.

"yeah, she did. hey read the next?" he asked. "'youngstown police chief vows to rid the city of la costra nostra---chief elton presson declares war against organized crime in our city'" he turned and smiled at me, then continued reading: 'people like zeb quartel and frank lamont have dominated this town too long, we will conduct an all out battle to rid youngstown of this type of vermin.'"

"huh," i said. "i'll bet he had a hell of a time ridding youngstown of you, frankie." he laughed.

"you said it sis, yeah really had his work cut out for him." he laughed again. that was good, i hadn't heard frankie laugh much in the two or three years i'de known him. "hey, it ain't so bad little one."

"huh?" i asked.

"the pizza hut, jake guzzic worked at restaurants, 'greasy fingers' was his middle name, like mine, the 'hook', he worked with the lansky brothers in 'hell's kitchen', made it big."

"well, you will too, frankie, everyone's got to do something until the real action comes around." then, frankie did a curious thing. he held me, held me tightly.

"thank you, carlee, you make life so much better." i almost cried.

"hey, your mama may have been proud of you, but i'm prouder." i said.

i think he was crying when i left. gosh, how could a person get so lost. i had seen his scrap book, he was nicknamed "the hook" because the cops caught him hanging up some dead bodies on meat hooks in a cold storage box after a mob massacre in youngstown, in nineteen fifty eight. frankie was arrested, but he was seen in a restaurant thirty minutes before and after the violence. apparantly he was summoned to do the next "dirty work." he did a month in detention at young county jail, and was released on parole. he told me that he had a good "mouthpiece." i acted as if i believed him. frankie died what hair he had left and his moustash, weekly. his shoes were always polished highly, spit shined. most people didn't like frankie lamont, i did.

i slept for three hours. woke up semi-comatose. i remembered dreaming about frankie's laywer, then of mine. confusion rolled in. i changed clothes, washed my face and put my hair back in a pony tail. i was famished. it was four o'clock, and i hurried to the lobby.

"hey!"

"hey yourself, connie, feelin' better?"

"some, got a minute?"

"a second, going to get a bite to eat."

"you be back?"

"sure, in a half an hour or so."

"see ya then," he said.

"shorty's" was empty, i opened the door and took a seat at the bar. "anybody home?" i called. this really distinguished looking gentleman appeared from the back. he was tall, dark, was wearing a starched long sleeved white shirt with gold cuff links, he had on a paisley tie, a clean white apron over his clothes, and a white paper hat in his hand.

"how may i help you, miss?" he was delightful.

"actually," i said, "i was looking for shorty," i replied.

"sorry, i'll have to do, i'm his brother, reginald, thomas was called away suddenly."

"arrested, or drunk?" i asked.

"oh, you're familiar with thomas' favor for demon rum," he replied.

"yes, and demon whiskey and demon hair oil." reginald smiled.

"he really needs an exorcism you know."

"oh, shorty's alright, so, you're filling in for a while?"

"for a brief while, unfortunately, if all the customers look like you." reginald donned his paper hat. "now, what is your desire, my dear?"

"a hamburger with everything and an order of onion rings," i said. reginald grabbed an onion and a knife.

"raw or grilled?" he asked.

"grilled." i answered. this was a change. he whacked off three thin slices of onion directly on the grill. then he poured a generous amount of cooking oil on them, salt and pepper. they smelled delicious. shorty made his own ground beef patties, bought the meat from a friend who i was sure the fda had never heard of. then he secretly made them into patties, maybe by pressing them in his arm pit, who knows, then froze them. they were always good, bigger than the bun, i always looked for underarm hair, never found any though. reginald placed one on the grill, dispensed some of the oil from the onions under it, then dropped an order of onion rings into the deep frier.

"don't over cook those, reginald."

"of course not," he answered. he flipped the onions on the grill over, then asked me: "wanna see a trick i learned?"

"sure," i said. he put the spatula into his left hand, placed it under the burger, and flipped it high into the air, halfway to the ceiling. it flipped precisely three times on its descent, and landed on its uncooked side, inches away from where it was. "a triple, impressed?"

"cool reginald, where'd you learn that?"

"i used to be a professional knife thrower in a carnival." alright, good enough. i thought. he then buttered both side of a fresh hamburger bun, and placed them on the grill. when the butter melted, he removed them and placed them on a plate, dressed them and put the burger on. he retrieved the onion rings from the frier, and asked me what i'd like to drink.

"a coke, with a lot of ice," i said. the meal was delicious, really delicious. shorty could use his brother here, just to fancy the place up. "reginald, that was very good, and the entertainment was too, you're a very nice person, i wish you could work with shorty, i really think you all could make a go of this, even become famous," and i smiled at him.

"thank you miss, i may give that some thought."

that was a rather fun experience, compared with the last few days. i thought. conny was on the switchboard when i got to the desk. i started to walk up to my room, but he "psssssst" at me.

"what?" i said. he held up his hand, indicating that i should wait until he was free. i walked over to the desk. "am i in trouble?" i asked. he rang a room, then turned to me.

"probably. listen, why do you fuck with that bum?"

"who?" i asked.

"lamont, that's who." he was angry.

"frankie lamont isn't a bum conny, he's just a lonely old man and you shouldn't call him a bum."

"he never done a fuckin' thing in his life worth shit. shook down old ladies and thieved, he's a low life, and nobody likes him. he prisses around here, trying to act better than us, and we pay his way."

"oh conny, he draws unemployment, we don't contribute to that."

"your ass little girl, he's on welfare, you don't draw unemployment if you never done a decent day's work in your life, and we do pay for welfare."

"he has a job interview tomorrow morning, conny, give him a break, i just feel sorry for him, that's all."

"shit," he said. "there's a lawyer up in your room."

"gee, thanks conny, i'll have to tell mr. gott how much i appreciate your kindness."

"smart ass," he said.

"is it a gorman and gorman lawyer?"

"no, he's from the college, dr. sericca."

"oh shit, conny, i can't believe you let him in, i'm not even suppose to talk with him."

"oh what tangled webs we weave, when....." i ran up the stairs. when i unlocked the door, dr. sericca was sitting in my chair, smoking a cigarette, like he owned the place. judge judy was on the tv.

"is that who you want to be when you grow up?" i asked. the doctor smiled.

"jake sericca, miss mccord, i hope you don't mind my being here." he was pleasant. "i'm chief counsel for the university, and i was a federal judge before i took this job, not near as smart as judy though." his smile was nice. i sat down on the bed. he held out his hand and shook mine. "this is quite off the record miss mccord."

"excuse me. off the record, after this morning?"

"this morning was not my idea, miss mccord, i'm not even sure why it happened. maybe just to keep your lawyers on their toes."

"perhaps," i said.

"miss mccord...."

"please, call me carlee." he smiled.

"carlee, when i say off the record, and unofficial, it means that nothing either myself or you say can be used officially, in a nut shell, when i leave, this conversation never took place. do you understand?"

"i understand, but i don't know if i'll contribute anything or not."

"you don't have to, carlee, i just want to share a few facts with you, if you run to your lawyers with them, then you will have broken a confidence with me, but it's not unlawful for you to do so, i just hope you won't." i nodded my head. "first of all, we know who stole the tests from professor wilkerson's office, who sold them and who distributed them, and it wasn't you." i nodded, again. "secondly, the visit from riley cravens, and his offer, was not only unethical, it was illegal. it was only designed to avert a law suit. the unfortunate encounter in president thompson's office and the leak to the papers of your guilt, are worthy of punitive damages. you were a victim of circumstances that should never had occured. you were approached by mr. gorman because he easily recognized some bad mistakes were made. does all this seem correct?" i just looked at him. "i can appreciate your silence, carlee, i know this hasn't been a picnic for you."

"there's been a lot said to me, dr. sericca, more than i ever wanted to hear, it's all been a nightmare i didn't need or want."

"i understand that, carlee, i really do."

"i bought a stupid test because i didn't wan't to go through logarithms again, and look where it got me."

"i know that, carlee, victims of circumstances, and i feel for you too. my office has gone over all of your records since junior high, no arrests, no trouble, an a-b student, your father's a general in the army, with an excellent record, i don't want you hurt any more, carlee, i really don't. please, come on back to school, get your life in order and accept our apologies."

"it's not that easy, dr. sericca," i said.

"well," he smiled. "i just wanted you to know where i stood. the university will make a generous offer to your attorneys this week, maybe that will end things. can we be friends?"

"of course we can sir. of course."