Father Francis hung up the phone but the dial tone remained as Aldo stared out the window, and then Aldo just looked at, and handled the fine grained leather, admiring the beauty and the freedom of it. Again he looked at the passport photo. There he was, staring out at Aldo...he knew him but now he knew him not. What parts of his old self would Aldo leave in the wake of miracles. It was inevitable, now that he had been outed, for the real Aldo to emerge. Yesterday, he had secretly cringed at the sight of a police officer...any authority figure made the sweat bead on his lip. How long would it now take for that reaction to go away. Once again he had the Blessed Mother to thank...and then he saw it, there on the passport...his name and the prefix...Reverend...my God in heaven... they have made an error here and made me a priest.
Aldo went to the computer and sent an e-mail to Father Tim... "Have just received my beautiful passport...thanks for the speedy work...there does appear to be an error...the passport refers to me as Reverend, is there some error here or was this intentional. Also do you have any thoughts as to my travel plan and shall I book accommodations at The Hassler Hotel." Aldo hit the send button and laid the passport on the desk. It was now past midnight in Rome so the chances were good that an answer would be on the computer when he awoke.
********************
The small Jewish man with the big Jewish nose appeared to be out of place in Coyote's Red Neck Saloon. But Homer Handmaker was a man comfortable in his skin, unlike his client Aldo Selleri who was accustomed to charades, Homer approached every situation as though he was the 'Bull of the Woods' ...and in his woods this was true... but down here the mantra may be dangerous. So Homer slid into a vacant booth, lit a cigar and waited as the bar maid ambled over for his order.
"What's yours big fellow." She smiled.
"Nice ass," Homer thought... "I'll just have an hour of your action."
She knew what he was thinking and pushed her ample breast closer to him as she leaned over the table to pick up a tip left by a previous customer... "you won't be needing this." She said.
"I'm just a poor lawyer trying to make out, and ...you know what I need." Homer surprised himself with the bawdy comment.
She laughed...she had heard it all... "You bad boy, its too early in the afternoon for sex and too late for a nooner."
"Just my Jewish luck...I find a good Irish girl and she is on some fucked up time table... so I guess I'll have to settle for a long neck."
"That will play well with your own...long neck."
"By the way...I got this problem with my ex shortin' me on child support."
"That's easy...we just garnishee his ass and let the court collect for you...here is my card, give me a call when you have an off day...I'll see that you get your money to take care of those babies." He said.
"I don't know that I can afford you." She said.
"Ever hear of probono."
"You turn me on with that dirty talk... and I love your big Jew nose."
"No, no...this time I am dead serious...in the law business we have to do a certain amount of probono work...in other words... free legal advice for those who are unable to pay...my normal rate is three hundred fifty dollars per hour...I bet you don't work cheap either?" he said.
"Maybe we could work a Quid Pro Quo." She said smiling.
Homer was surprised at how easy she had slid the Latin across the table...sounded like a law school student. "A This For That...sounds great to me."
Freddy McNair opened the door to the darkened barroom. He waited as his pupils adjusted to the darkness. He spotted Homer making out with the barmaid and made his way to the booth.
"Well, if it ain't Freddy Fingers...I thought you had blown town with the ten bucks you shorted me on that bar tab, slim ball." She said
"Naw...been sick, did not want to come down here and contaminate a working class lady with responsibility." The accent was pure Brooklynese...just about seven hundred miles southeast from the docks.
"Counselor, would you tell Jan here that I am good for the sawbuck...now I'll just have what my counselor is having and on his tab."
"Yeh...you need a counselor alright...but the kind I'm referring to deals with whackos."
Jan left the two of them and went back to the bar to pull the two long neck bottles from the cooler beneath the bar... all the time she was talking to the bartender and nodding to the booth with Homer and Freddy Fingers.
"I guess your reputation precedes you." Homer said to Freddy Fingers.
"Yee...it's a small world down here... whata you got, my man?"
"Small job...involves a delivery by DHL."
Jan returned with the two long necks... "You want to run a tab?"
Homer handed Jan a fifty dollar bill.
"No we'll be out of here in a few minutes, which should clear up the sawbuck Freddy Fingers owes you and keep the change."
"Heh...thanks counselor...I knew this was going to be a good day." She left the two of them and returned to the bar smiling with the freshly printed fifty planted between her ample tits.
"So what's with this DHL thing?"
"Simple job...DHL stops at our building, picks up several parcels and heads downtown for other stops...your job is to board the van, without detection...nab the package from our office and hightail it before the driver gets back... simple enough." Homer asked.
"Heh...piece of cake...sure I can handle with no problem...but what's the action for this little heist considering the danger and the time I'll serve if this driver gets back before I get out of the truck?" Freddy asked.
"Five hundred dollars when you deliver the piece unopened."
"Five hundred now...and a grand when I deliver the piece unopened." Freddy said.
Homer reached into his pocket and withdrew a wad of cash...he began to count out five one hundred dollar bills which wasn't lost on Jan the barmaid or the bartender or the other afternoon drinkers.
"Five hundred now...and five hundred when you deliver my mail unopened." Homer said.
"Gez counselor, I have to make a living you know..." Freddy said.
"That's the deal." Homer said as he slid out of the booth with the long neck in hand.
"Well, ok...but how do I know when...?" he asked.
"Go get a cheap cell phone and call me with the number." Homer said.
******************
Aldo was correct...when he awakened, his computer was blinking with the message... "You've got mail." Aldo never saw the message that he didn't think of Meg Ryan...darling girl that Aldo never missed the opportunity to watch on his cable. Of course he had not seen any of her current movies in as much as he was simply too tight to purchase the HBO and other movie channel. He had to be content to catch her on the chic channel when he could. But then that always gave him something else to look forward too.
The e-mail from Father Tim was direct... "Your notification is noted...sorry for the error...you will not be inconvenienced further, I will have your new passport by the time you arrive but for now you will have to travel as Father Aldo Selleri...hope this doesn't cause any embarrassment. Travel whenever you are able to get reservations...The Hassler Hotel will be perfect, except that Monsignor Voght may want you to stay here in Vatican City. Send e-mail with travel itinerary.
Well there you go Aldo thought...he did have a black suit but he would forego the clerical collar so as not to place himself in an uncomfortable position.
Too early to call Homer