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A boy appears - apparently out of nowhere - on a rainy night in an unnamed resort town. 'Clipped' by a passing car, he is seemingly temporarily stunned, and manages to crawl into the shelter of an alleyway running to one side of an opulent resort hotel/casino - the oddly named 'Jaguar Club'. The boy is found by a patrolling security employee, who reports him to one of the managers. The boy is taken into the hotel, where he appears to be suffering from amnesia - or is the boy dissembling ? And who is he, and where does he come from - and what was he doing in the middle of a busy thoroughfare in the early hours - in the rain - wearing next to nothing ?
'Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
A little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me....'
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| A Rainy Night |
It was 'another' time, although the 'place' seemed somehow familiar.
And it was a strange night.....
It very rarely rained in the city - in fact the city made its reputation, and much of its living from its equitable, dry fine climate.
It was a place for rich people to visit - very rich people....
And the people who lived there ?
Well there was the usual.....
Taxi drivers, garbage collectors, shop assistants, chefs and waiters and waitresses, entertainers, croupiers, people working in hotels.... all the usual.
And in any town where there was lots of money there were the hustlers, gangsters, prostitutes.... again, all the usual.
And at the top of the pile - apart from the crooked politicians, there were the bosses - the bosses of the gangs, who were often also the bosses of the bars, the hotels, the strip-joints, brothels, bath-houses and such.
And at the very top there was the 'Big Boss' - the 'capo dei capi' as they say - the guy who, in reality, ran the town.
Oddly enough - with a title like that, he was not Sicilian - not even Italian - and he was not part of the Mafia - or more correctly, the 'Cosa Nostra'.
He was purportedly of English extraction - although few believed that story.
But he presented himself as a gentleman, well spoken and seemingly well educated.
He was undoubtedly not your image of the typical 'gangster' - he was just too refined.
And his name ?
Well, he was simply called 'the Boss' - and it would be a very foolish person who asked him his real name.
Frank was just twenty.
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| Frank |
The 'Boss' always surrounded himself with strikingly good-looking people - girls and boys - although everyone realised that it was the boys who mostly caught his attention.
The night in question Frank had been given the easy option of discreetly patrolling the front of the huge lavishly lit casino - at least it would have been the easy option if it hadn't been raining.
But then it wasn't too bad.
As always, it was warm - even the rain was warm and light.
Frank stayed under cover, however, idly smoking his Malborough.
After a while he grew bored, and took a walk down one side of the building.
On entering a poorly lit area, he stumbled on a heap of what he too to be rubbish, but a loud groan alerted him to the fact that it was someone sheltering from the rain, and apparently asleep.
"What the fuck's this ?", he said, more to himself than to whoever it was sleepily stirring at his feet.
The boy looked up, apparently half asleep.
"Go on...! Fuck off, kid !" Frank snarled, pulling the lad to his feet.
The boy groggily got to his feet, took a couple of steps, and then slumped down onto the wet, shiny pavement.
"What the fuck ?", Fank muttered under his breath.
"What the fuck's wrong with you ?", Frank asked, becoming alarmed, as he didn't want the situation to go any further - which might mean that the authorities - the police or the paramedics getting involved.
"I got hit by a car.....it knocked me out, I think...", the boy grunted, as he tried to sit up.
"Ok ....well let's take a look at you." Frank said, a little more gently, as he helped the kid to sit on the pavement.
The boy, regardless of his tattered jeans, shirt and jacket, was strikingly handsome, and in his early teens.
Just the sort of kid the 'Boss' might take a liking to, Frank thought.
"Well, you're in luck, amigo.
We've got a doctor here in the Casino who could take a look at you, but first I have to check with my boss.", Frank said, helping the boy to his feet.
"You are in a bad way....Frank said, as he realized the boy had great difficulty in standing, let alone walking.
"So what do we call you, Amigo ?", Frank asked, as he half lifted, and half dragged the boy to one of the Casino side doors.
The boy didn't reply, but Frank ignored that as he wanted to get the kid off the street.
The boy didn't reply, but Frank ignored that as he wanted to get the kid off the street.
As soon as he got through the door, Frank called for help, and another young man, of similar age and similarly dressed quickly arrived on the scene, and helped to guide the boy down a wide, plushly carpeted corridor.
Everything about the place reeked of luxury, from the depth of the carpeting, to the concealed lighting and the embossed leather-lined walls.
They quickly took the boy to a small room, and, laid him on an expensive looking black leather chesterfield sofa.
Frank then quickly 'fleeced' the boy's pockets, looking for ID.
He turned to his helper....
"No ID, no keys, no money, no wallet, no receipts....nothing !
Where did this boy come from ? Nowhere ?..." Frank said, exasperated.
Frank then quickly 'fleeced' the boy's pockets, looking for ID.
He turned to his helper....
"No ID, no keys, no money, no wallet, no receipts....nothing !
Where did this boy come from ? Nowhere ?..." Frank said, exasperated.
Frank then left the room - presumably to get 'permission' from his boss for the boy to be seen by the 'doc', while the other young man stood by the chesterfield with folded arms, looking suspiciously like a guard.
The boy, however, couldn't care less.
He was confused, and felt strangely ill, and was just glad to be out of the rain.
Moments later Frank came back, smiling.
"Everythings ok, amigo.
My boss says that you can see the 'doc', and then we'll see what should be done....
So...see you soon..", and with that Frank and the the young man left the room.
The boy was left alone.
Perhaps the door was unlocked, and perhaps he could make his escape - but so far he had sensed no threat, and anyway he had no idea where he would escape to.... as his mind was a complete blank.
In the warmth and silence of the room, the boy, lying relaxed on the chesterfield had drifted off to sleep.
"Good evening, young man !........Well who have we got here ?", the Doctor said, as he gently tugged at the boy's shoulder.
The boy opened his eyes, and stretched.
"I'm .....uh.... I'm......" and then he fell silent, looking thoroughly bewildered.
"Yes...?", the young Doctor said patiently.
"You're......?", and the Doctor paused, waiting for the boy to complete the sentence.
The boy looked distraught.
"I don't know !", he blubbered, seeming as if he was about to loose control.
"I see. " the doctor replied, sounding remarkably calm.
"Well, we can come back to that later....
For now, just sit up - if that's ok."
The Doctor then took a thermometer out of his breast pocket,
"Open wide and lift your tongue."
The Doctor then poked the thermometer into the boy's mouth.
"Now just be still."
While the boy sat on the sofa, trying to calm down, the Doctor opened his bag, which he had placed discreetly on the floor, and took out a stethoscope.
Gently he then unbuttoned the lad's shirt, and told him to take some deep breaths.
The Doctor looked serious, as he listened intently.
"Yep !.. Sounds ok.", he then said, reassuringly, as he removed the thermometer from the boy's mouth.
He then looked intently at the reading.
"Temperature's fine !.... Well at least you look like you'll survive.", he said brightly.
“Well, young man, you’d better come along with me.
Everything seems OK, apart from the memory lapses – but I need to give you a thorough going over – the 'Boss' always insists on that.”
And with that the Doctor indicated to the boy that he should get up off the chesterfield.
The Doctor then guided the boy out of the door, and down a long corridor.
After passing a number of doors they came to a door with a small steel plaque with the inscription
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| Dr Lockwood |
‘Dr. Lockwood, MD’.
The Doctor took out a bunch of keys, and unlocked the door.
“Come in son – this won’t take long.”
The room was spacious and somewhat alarmingly all white.
There was a large, remarkably tidy desk, steel filing cabinets and cupboards, an examination couch, and a number of chairs – along with a number of tasteful, framed abstract painting on the walls.
Just like the previous room that the boy had been taken to, however, there were no windows, and the room was lit by subtle concealed lights.
While the room was very ‘Spartan’, it also exuded a sense that in furnishing it money had been no problem.
Once they were in the room, the Doctor indicated to the boy to take a seat.
Then the Doctor went over to one of the filing cabinets and extracted a folder.
He went over to his desk, sat down, picked up a pen, and looked at the boy intently.
“Ah….this could be difficult.”, he said, with a tinge of embarrassment.
“You say that you can’t remember your name ?”
The boy looked up.
“Yes sir – not at the moment, anyway.”, the boy mumbled.
“Well I’ll just put on your file, in pencil for now, ‘Lost Boy’ - and we’ll sort out the name later.”
“So..first I want you to strip.
I presume that’s not a problem for you ?”, the Doctor suggested.
“No, not at all, sir.” the boy replied, standing up, and unbuttoning his shirt.
“Good….so tell me – what is the earliest thing that you can remember ?”, the Doctor asked, still worried about the obvious amnesia.
“Well the first thing was the bright lights, and then hitting my head on the ground.”, the boy replied, as he loosened his jeans, and unzipped his flies.
The boy did have other memories, but was careful not to reveal them – he very much wanted to appear as normal as possible.
“And that’s all ?”, the doctor asked, obviously surprised.
“That’s all.”, the boy replied, stepping out of his jeans.
“And do you normally not wear any underwear ?”, the Doctor asked, seeing that the boy was not wearing a vest or underpants.
The boy hadn’t realised what he was wearing – or rather, not wearing.
“No, sir.”, he replied, unsure if he was saying the right thing.
“OK – well lets have a listen to your chest and your heart again.”, the Doctor said, as he took out his stethoscope, listened back and front, and then firmly tapped the boy’s chest and back.
What the Doctor didn’t comment on was how slim, yet well muscled the boy was.
“And how old did you say you were ?”, the Doctor asked.
“Don’t know.”, the boy replied.
“Well, I’d say about twelve to…. maybe fourteen.
How does that sound ?”, the Doctor suggested.
“Really – I don’t know.”, the boy replied, appearing to become a little agitated.
The Doctor, still concerned, left it at that, and went over to his desk and made some notes in the newly opened file.
When the Doctor finished making notes, he took out a plastic spatula and a small torch.
“OK, open your mouth wide.”, he said.
The Doctor spent some time peering into the boy’s mouth.
“Your gums are very healthy, and your teeth are remarkably good.
Not one single filling or cap – amazing.” he said, obviously surprised.
“So now I need to take some blood.”, the Doctor said, going over to one of the cupboards.
When he turned round he noticed that the boy look terribly alarmed.
“You’re not one of those people with a phobia about needles ?,”, the Doctor queried.
“No, not really, sir.” the boy replied, not really understanding what the Doctor had meant.
“Well, don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit.”, the Doctor said, reassuringly.
The boy was trembling when the Doctor took hold of his arm, and jerked involuntarily as the needle went into the vein, but he was surprised at how little it hurt.
The Doctor then took a small plastic bottle from the same cupboard from which he had taken the syringe.
"OK now, there's a door over there that leads to the washroom.
Take this bottle, go in there, and give me a sample of your urine."
The boy looked at the Doctor, apparently uncomprehending.
"Piss in it." The Doctor said, bluntly.
The boy returned in a few moments with the small plastic bottle that he placed n the Doctor's desk.
"That's good.
"So, young man, if you have nowhere else to go I can arrange for a nice comfortable room for you, where you can have a good sleep, and then tomorrow perhaps the 'Boss' can see you, and he can decide what to do about you."
The boy looked surprised.
"Thank you, sir.
I need to sleep.", the boy replied shyly.
"That's good.", the doctor said, smiling- and the doctor pressed a button on his desk.
Moments later Frank appeared at the Doctor's door.
For a few moments Frank and the Doctor spoke quietly, and then Frank turned to the boy.
"Well, amigo - you've landed on your feet, it seems - so come on, and I'll show you to your room.
Frank led the way, and in a few moments they entered an elevator (Eng. lift).
The boy guessed they had risen five floors when the elevator came to a very gentle halt, and the doors opened soundlessly.
They then walked along a deeply carpeted corridor past a number of doors.
Finally they came to a door numbered thirty-three.
Frank then took a pass key out of his pocket and tuned the lock.
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| The Room |
"Well amigo, I do hope you like your room.", Frank said, as he opened the door.
The boy gasped.
"For me ? - But why ?", he blurted out in amazement.
"Because you are our guest - and we always take good care of our guests.", Frank said, smiling.
"But it's so big......" the boy enthused.
Now you've got an 'en-suite' (the boy had no idea what that was), a flat screen TV - but the Doc's ordered that to be disconnected tonight, as he wants you to get some sleep, and of course a CD, DVD Player and Internet (the boy had no idea what any of those were, either) - but they are all off until the Doc's satisfied that you have properly rested.....
So... are you hungry, amigo - 'cause I can order you some food ?", Frank concluded.
"No...thank you, Frank.
I just want to sleep - but can I ask you something ?", the boy said, hesitantly.
"Of course, amigo - fire away.", Frank replied.
"Well - what does 'amigo' mean - you keep calling me that.
Is it my name ?", the boy asked.
Frank shook his head in disbelief.
"You are a very strange boy !", he said.
"Amigo just means 'friend' - I'm just trying to be nice to you - 'cause I like you, even if you are a bit weird - but I think its just the concussion.
Now you get some sleep, amigo." Frank said, ruffling the boy's spiky hair.
"See you in the morning !"
"Yes, Frank - and thanks !", the boy said, glad to be able, finally, to go to sleep.
The boy sleeps through the night - in a turmoil of strange dreams - but in the morning he awakens refreshed.
He then is examined again by Dr Lockwood, and later the boy meets the 'Boss'.
go to
a very nice beginnining vitto
ReplyDeletewish you all the best in the new endeavour
george the athenian