Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue Meets His Match
by Tux Toledo
Page 3
"As
you probably know, I've always had political ambitions."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," he nodded. "In fact, I'm going to run for governor
next year."
"Congratulations!" I patted him on the back.
"Yes, I am quite pleased about that. But there is a dark
cloud in the ointment."
"What?"
"You see, many years ago I committed a trifling indiscretion that I'm
afraid might come back to haunt me. You know how the press
treats electoral candidates. They rake them over the
stove. They dig up all the smut they can find regardless of
how old it is."
"Yes, I suppose one must have a clean past."
"No skeletons in the cabinet."
"Right." I was beginning to worry about old Sidney.
Perhaps had imbibed a bit too much of the bubbly.
"Well, I have a skeleton that must be disposed of, if you know what I
mean."
"What kind of skeleton?"
He looked around again and continued once he was convinced no one was
eavesdropping. "There are these photographs,
Winston. You see, many years ago I was romantically involved
with an entertainer. The photographs are of the two of
us. No one must ever see them."
"Is it so bad to have been romantically involved with an entertainer?"
I asked. "Sometimes a glamorous past is an asset."
"When I say entertainer I don't mean an artist in the traditional
sense. Not a musician nor an actor."
"What do you mean, Sidney?"
"I mean an entertainer on Broadway."
"Broadway? Not bad."
"In North Beach."
"Oh, that Broadway." In case you don't know, Broadway in San
Francisco's North Beach is full of what can politely be called "strip
joints".
"It was a clandestine relationship and these photographs could be very
damaging to my campaign if they fall into the wrong hands."
"Are you being threatened? Is she blackmailing you?"
"No." He fidgeted. "I don't think this person even
knows about my plans to run for governor."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I'm afraid of the uncertainty. I'm afraid I'll be
blackmailed once my candidacy is announced."
"Oh," I said.
"What I need is a preemptive strike. You know, get the photos
before the temptation arises."
"I see."
"Yes, well." Sidney poured the champagne into his
mouth. Words momentarily escaped him.
"And you want me to obtain these photographs for you," I said.
"Yes, Winston, that's the idea. What do you think?
You can do that sort of thing, can't you?"
"What's her name?" I shrugged.
"Irene Atom."
"Irene Atom? I never heard of her. Where is she
living?"
"Somewhere in North Beach."
"Can't you be more specific?"
"No, I can't. I haven't seen her for years. She
retired over fifteen years ago."
"That's a long time, Sidney. Are you sure she's still around?"
"It's not that long." He shrugged and shivered at the same
time. "People have long memories."
He was holding something back, but that's just how these political
types are.
"I suppose you're right," I said.
"Then will you help me?" he asked.
Before I could answer, my worst fears came true. The prima
donna began to sing.
"Well, Sidney, I've got to go."
"But will you help me?"
"You know me, Sidney. I'm always willing to do my part to
expedite the political process."
Sidney smiled. I hurried away from the party before the prima
donna could inflict permanent damage to my nervous system.
The only sure remedy for a soprano is the solitude of a Rolls Royce.
© 2008 David Biagini