Final Score
Skippy pulled over behind Roy Cohn’s Rolls Royce in the drive, cut the engine and gave Hawk a nervous look. ‘You did fine, angel,’ Hawk said, kissing him. ‘I trust nobody else to drive my car but you.’
‘I drive it more often, it’s not that,’ Skippy stammered. ‘I just don’t like what we’re doing now. And I’m not athletic, you know that.’
Hawk laughed and picked up the football that had been lying at his feet. ‘Don’t panic, Skippy, we won’t be here for very long anyway.’
They got out of the car, walked up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. Mrs. Cohn answered.
‘Mr. Fuller!’ she cried. ‘How nice of you to come!’
‘Good afternoon,’ Hawk said. ‘I was wondering if Roy could come out and play.’ He nodded towards Skippy. ‘This young man is my chauffeur, I hope you don’t mind him being around as well.’
The old lady ruffled Skippy’s hair. ‘Oh, aren’t you a sweet boy!’ She drew something from her dress pocket and handed it to him. ‘There you go, a nice piece of English toffee.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Skippy smiled politely.
Her happy face sank a little. ‘It’s nice that you showed up, children, but Roy is not home.’
‘But his car is in the drive!’ Hawk objected softly.
‘He took the streetcar into town,’ she explained. ‘I’ll tell him you stopped by.’
After running her hand affectionately across Skippy’s cheek she closed the door. ‘Goddammit,’ Hawk grumbled at him. ‘Let’s walk around the house and see if we can get in through the side gate.’
A little later, they reached the small wrought-iron door, which was embedded in high hawthorn bushes. Through the bars they got to see what was going on in Cohn’s garden. Roy and David were kneeling on the soil and playing marbles. David flicked them into a little hole like a professional.
‘Naches to you, darling,’ Roy laughed. ‘You won again. How about another game? And then Mama will have lemonade and cookies ready.’
‘O.K.’ David smiled. ‘I do like your mom, she’s so hospitable.’
Skippy looked at Hawk. Hawk looked at Skippy. ‘Unbelievable,’ Skippy whispered. Hawk pointed at a spot a few yards on, from where they could not be seen through the gate. They went to stand there and lit cigarettes. Between puffs, Skippy nibbled on the candy and then flung it into the bushes.
‘Ready…set…go!’ Roy’s voice rang out from behind the hedge. Sounds of marbles jumping across the soil could be heard, and then Schine chuckled: ‘Man, did you read the Star this morning? There’s a picture of a phone booth in it. Someone wrote HAWKINZ FULER IS A SLUT on a wall.’ He spelled out the faultily written name. ‘Isn’t that the fellow who works under Morton at State?’
‘He is,’ Roy affirmed. ‘But really, why would anyone do such a thing? Fuller is a decent man.’
David uttered something between a sardonic laugh and a growl. ‘Decent? So you know him?’
‘I do, in fact, it was his secretary who phoned me when she spotted you at the Cozy. And she saved you from that murderous fat girl.’
‘His secretary? So you know him well, huh? Is he handsome? Is he good?’
‘Come on, now, Dave, he’s only a fr….aaaaaahhhh!’
Some punching sounds were heard, then a thud, and then the tack-tack-tack of marbles hitting human flesh. ‘Boo-hoo-hoo, that hurt!’ Roy lamented. ‘You’re mean, Dave!’
‘Mr. Schine!’ Mrs. Cohn roared, obviously from the living room window. ‘I let you play with Roy on one condition, that is that you’d play nicely with him. I’m calling your parents in Los Angeles, and if they have any common decency, they’ll ground you.’
Hawk grabbed Skippy by an arm and broke into a run. ‘Let’s get to my car before she sees us!’ he panted. Skippy dug his heels into the gravel, slowing Hawk down and crying: ‘For God’s sake, wait until Schine has left!’
‘Trust me, Skippy, he won’t leave through the front door! Run, they are not to see us here! Cohn is going to have me killed to placate Schine, he has friends in low places…the Gambini brothers!’
Two minutes later, they were at the car, panting and dizzy. Hawk slid behind the wheel, started the engine and reversed quite before Skippy had settled in the passenger seat. They rode off with screeching tires. Only when they were nearing the city center did they calm down a little.
A traffic light turned red. Hawk stopped and ran a hand across Skippy’s cheek. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘How I love you!’
Skippy kissed Hawk’s palm and gave him the sweetest look. The light changed and they rode on. Some silence ensued. Hawk steered calmly, using turn signals, slowing down at pedestrian crossings and thinking nothing until he noticed that his angel was smothering giggles in his handkerchief.
‘What’s so funny, darling?’
‘The words in the phone booth. Are you really a slut?’
Hawk gave up. He just gave up. ‘I am,’ he conceded. ‘But at least I don’t beat people up…Well, my beauty, how about we have some dinner downtown tonight? My treat.’
‘I’d love that, Hawk…you…sl….um…sweetheart.’
Hawk took one hand from the wheel to caress Skippy again. ‘And tonight my darling boy will be in for a very nice punishment full of tenderness in my bedroom.’