SALVATION chapter 15

SALVATION
chapter 15

Los Angeles, California

"Are you gonna' be my new daddy?"
"Quentin De La Cruz!"...Samantha's face flushed.
She shook her head wiping dry a dinner plate and
adding it to the others neatly arranged within
pine cabinets behind frosty etched glass doors.
Hal bent before a white double sink donning thick
Rubber Maid gloves up to his elbows.
They had a system..Hal washed the dishes then
gave them to Quentin who stood on a two rung
step stool submerging them in rinse water then
passing to his Mother who dried and put them
away..To their left a rustic oak dinning table,
and four matching high back chairs were framed
by an L shaped wall of 10 panel french doors and
windows leading to a small back yard patio that
viewed city lights through a arched trelis crowned
with bougainvillea.

Sensing he was in trouble five year old Quentin's
mop of dark brown hair dropped toward the rinse
water. His small hands stirring a coffee cup that
was no longer a simple cup but had become an
underwater spaceship with friendly aliens inside
living under the ocean making lots of new friends
with the sharks and other stuff that lived there..

Hal pulled the bright yellow gloves out of soapy
water wiping them on Samantha's checkered cooking
apron. The one with the frilly lace on the border..He got
big laughs and claps of approval when he nonchalantly
put the neck loop over his head and tied the strings
around his waist..
Seeing Quentin's involvement with the cup he asked.
"What's that you got there Quent?"
Quentin didn't look up but answered as if he should
make the mistake of averting his eyes from the
spaceship even for a split second it might go out of
control and plummet to the deep dark depths of the
ocean floor never to be found.
"Spaceship." He murmured.
"An underwater spaceship?" Hal sounded genuinely impressed.
"Yeah!"..Quentin's big brown eyes flashed up at Hal. His face
lit up from ear to ear..The fact a grown up 'got it' made the
pretend spaceship that much more real, an emotional
bonding for him.

"How'd you know Mister Hal?"..He was in awe of Hal's
apparent super human power..The ability to read minds.
Up to this point in his young life he thought only his Mother
had the unique gift.
"What, you didn't see me down there?"..Hal questioned
pointing to the deep.
Quentin giggled when he spoke sensing another funny
joke was about to erupt..
"No.." He chuckled waiting for the punch line.

Hal had been keeping Quentin in stitches since he arrived
over two hours ago and Quentin didn't want it to end even
though he knew it was way, way, passed his bedtime and
his Mommy was going to make him go to bed as soon as
the dishes were done..
Hal plopped the big yellow dish glove on top of the rinse
water and slowly pushed it under.."We all live in a yellow
submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine."
Quentin screamed in delight as Hal sang and maneuver
the dish glove around the bottom of the rinse water
stopping in front of the 'spaceship' and waving..
"We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine,
a yellow submarine!"
All three of them singing along with Quentin's little body
swaying back and forth to music his legs marching in
stationary time on the top of the stool.
Hal piped in making his voice sound like an echo..
"And our friends are all aboard!"...He forgot the next
line looking to Samantha for help.
"Many more of them.." She started and they both chipped in.
"Live next door!..And the band begins to play!"
Hal did the trumpet sounds and the room filled with the
chorus.
After, she slipped between them kissing her son on the
top of his head, her left arm slid up and gently
scratched Hal's back between his shoulder blades..
She stretched up on her tip toes whispering in his right ear.
"What a ham you are."

Quentin insisted Hal be the one that put him to bed cause
he wanted to show Hal all the neat stuff he had in his
very own room..
Legos invaded the carpet. A poster depicting every known
breed of dog hung surrounded by framed crayola art work
of landscapes, jet airplanes, police cars, motorcycles,
firetrucks, and little stick boys holding of the hands of
little stick Moms with oversized heads and smiles.
"You gonna' be home when I wake up?"
Hal sat on the edge of Quentin's bed pulling the covers
over him up to his neck.
"Oh,.. When you wake up I will be waking up too over at
my house."
"Your gonna' come back though, right?"
Quentin squealed as Hal's head bumped into one of the
Model airplanes hanging from the ceiling attached by
fishing line..
"I think I just got bombed!"
"Yeah." Quentin giggled.
"I'd like to come over and see you again Buddy.
Have to go to work though. You know, just like
your Mom."
"Yeah." Quentin yawned.
Hal placed his two index fingers on top of each other
making a finger line between his palms.
"Cut the pickle."
Quentin made a fist with his right hand and pushed
down on Hal's finger bridge forcing them apart.
Hal's right hand squeezed the blanket over Quentin's
tummy.
"Here's a tickle!"

He left the nightlight on and the bedroom door
agar as instructed before descending the stair
way to the living room below.
The banister wall was covered in 8x10 wood
framed family photos mixed with metal framed
awards and accommodations earned by Samantha
over her years of service.
The condo's walls were airy, light with a hint
of peach. Cream colored carpet broken up sections
of wood flooring in the kitchen, and dinning room.
The living room decor was a promotion of the south
west with a dark brown sectional placed in the center
of the room. Large black lacquered frames complimented
still life paintings of earthy pottery bowls and
vases against stratified yellow backgrounds.

The gated key complex located on Culver Boulevard
in Mar Vista was a favorite residence of police
department employees out of the Pacific Division
station a block away. The division Samantha was
formally attached before her promotion to Metropolitan
Division's special teams three years ago.
Ten to fifteen squad cars graced the numbered
parking stalls at any given time of the day.
The independent security company was a good
one, and many of the guards stationed here had
aspirations in law enforcement careers.

She was curled up on the sofa smiling at him.
"Thanks for doing that."
"My pleasure...He's a great kid."
She unfolded from the couch walking to him.
Hal was amazed at her natural grace and
relaxed demeanor..She reached up hooking
her hands around his neck..
"I have to confess something Hal."
It felt wonderful having her so close to him.
He slipped his hands around her waist.
They spoke low and soft.
"Let me guess, the dishes were still dirty."
She shook her head slow.
"I really like you Hal."
"I really like you too Sam."
She let her hands unlock and slip to his upper arms.
"But,..I am concerned."
"You are?"
She nodded.."I am just not sure my son has really
taken to you."
"You think he hates me?"
She put her nose in his chest and nodded smiling.
"Maybe if I can figure out how to keep you around
awhile, he'll warm up."
"Never know, it could work."


Atlanta, Georgia

Thursday, 1:AM

Sal Fox sat back like an astronaut in stocking feet
reclined in his slick black leather Lazy Boy.
A bottle of scotch perched next to him on thick
belved glass a top a jet black side table to his left.
Usually kept at the side bar a steps away, tonight
the bottle was required within easy reach.
A fifty inch high definition plasma screen flashed
through the late night news.
His laptop droned on a matching coffee table
in front of him updating music industry insider's
information through a wireless modem connection.

He was lucky to be alive, he knew that.
Lucky to be sitting here getting shit faced and he
appreciated it..On the other hand, like the
half empty glass of scotch in his right hand, half
thankful was as much as he was currently willing
to comply..

He checked his watch. He had to fly to Denver
in the morning. Meet with other executives from Universal,
EMI and Sony International.
This years December 10th Battle of the Bands event was
coming up fast and the time had come to hammer out
coordination between corporations, companies, sponsors,
legal details, the whole shooting match..

Usually the event landmarked Sal's favorite time of year.
Lots of glitz,perks and special attention..The big three
corporations threw tons of money at this thing like a
macrocosmic neighborhood Christmas Tree Candy
Cane Lane competition. The winner bloating in 'spiritual
pride' secretly gloating behind the envious backs of the
defeated during Midnight Mass and subsequent Sunday's
there after for months to come.

And if you had a niche, like the kind of niche Sal's latest
promotion could have placed him right in the thick of..
The red carpet rolled and the wine, women and song flowed.
Now it looked like his red carpet was being replaced
by a bed of hot coals.
He could feel the burning eyes on him already..
The judges.
Eyes that spoke of earnings loss, plummeting stocks,
class action suits, corporate reputation's smeared.
The list was spreading like wild fire.
As in a premonition he saw himself being pulled from
conference rooms under the watchful glare of professional
peers. Quietly relocated to small cramped quarters containing
voice recorders and nervous brass all beginning their
interrogations with the same opening line..
"What happened?"


After the SWAT teams, investigators, Atlanta Police,
FBI, Coroner's office,forensics, and throngs of emergency
personnel had finished he was finally allowed to leave the
building at 10:45 PM.
Between police interrogations he was constantly re-interrogated
by Corporate personnel calling from New York, Detroit, Miami,
St.Paul, Austin, and Seattle.
There was much explaining to do and for the first time in
his career Sal didn't have the answers..
It all made him look bad..

He'd been in touch through out the day with Ed Hoffman
out in San Diego, the original affiliate who'd signed
Herman Gilespie's band..Sal was beginning to feel
a certain parallel destiny with Mister Hoffman.
He could see Universal giving him a stiff boot and landing
some where on skid row in a shabby little office with
ACME MUSIC posted over the door.
'Affiliate of Universal Music Corporation.'
Riches to rags, Porsche to VW, Main Street to Hobo Street, flyin'
high in April shot down in May compressed into a matter of hours.

What really bothered Fox was how he'd managed to get
into his current predicament in the first place..
Or rather, how out-foxed he'd been by whom ever was responsible
for putting him in this position.
Who pushed Ken Anderson's buttons?
Why did Ken Anderson commit suicide?
Who was really behind the Corporate decision to promote a relative
unknown band like MENACE with a single release starting at the top
of a popular top 40 air play station?
Did the responsible party know in advance the subliminal effects the
song would have on listeners?..
Why would anybody knowing do that?...What could possibly
be the point?

"Maybe it's 'try outs' for some type of secret military industrial
complex experimental psychological warfare program."
His head was spinning..
It's origination white washed from detection through a skillfully
concocted scheme activating trial phases through the
unexpecting escape goat of an art form.
In his gut he didn't believe it..Not originating from our
government anyway..
It was more the style of a Saddam hussein to go after his
own people, but this was even more nuts..This didn't even
bother to segregate.
Like germ warfare only less traceable. "Something Bin Laden
would cook up safe, comfy, untouchable over there in
fuck wad Pakistan."
Playing the part of evil godhead with too much time on his hands.

His mind raced..He felt trapped and used..
Did Ken Anderson learn of the scheme and balk?
Maybe Anderson hadn't been suicidal after all..
That fellah out in San Diego knew Anderson and he was defiantly
not buying the suicide story..
And the note he'd found taped to the top of the desk drawer.
The warning..
Why wasn't the top brass at Universal making any noise about the
"King of the World" fiasco?
Sal hadn't received a single phone call from any of the Corporation's
Executive heads, much less Terry Washburn the current CEO..

He glanced at the late night movie now playing on the
T.V. screen and sighed..'No Exit' starring Kevin Costner..
There was something else though..Something other than
the obvious parallels of desperation shared by the character
in the movie and Sal's current situation that caused his
fatigue swollen eye balls to narrow and focus on the
images bouncing off the thread bare nerves of his over
stressed mind.
A kind of ebullience that steadily gnawed it's way through his
current state of inebriation finding a common denominator
between himself and the star of the movie.
"Oh, yeah."..He remembered..The site being considered
for this years Battle of the Bands event..
It wasn't a lock by any means but there was a lot
of interest due to the number of high profile entertainment
names living in Aspen Colorado..Names like Kevin
Costner, Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas, John Oats,
Antonio Banderas, Melanie Griffith, Mariah Carey, Michelle
Pfeiffer, Goldie Hawn, Kurt Russell.
Big heady cross platform drawing power from both silver
screen and music industries that Universal found to be
a very appetizing advertisement aspect of the coming
event.
The place was perfect. All decked out in holiday decor.
Red, green, blue, and white lighting reflected off
snow plowed streets. Dormant Aspen trees done up
in white twinkle lights up and down Galena Street.
Back drop of the Rockie Mountains with a five foot pristine
snow base..
"Wish I'd thought of it." he said..
"Whole town is going to look like an entrance
to the pearly gates."