CHAPTER 14
 
Uptown & Eastside
By Roland Jacopetti
 
 
“So talk. I'm listening.”
 
“Kuch?”
 
“It's a wonderful country, ain't it? Ninety-nine times a bozo calls you up at the same number, and the hundredth time he goes, 'Kuch?'. Like, who the hell else is it gonna be?”
 
“Jesus, don't be so crabby. What, she kicked you outa bed last night?”
 
“Never mind my bed. I been waiting for you to call for two friggin' days. Have you been followin' up on this Kiwi scumbag, like I told you? You know, the guy that sucker-punched me that time? Man, I can still feel that one. And listen...what is a Kiwi, for Christ's sake?”
 
“What’s a Kiwi? A turkey from Tasmahoochistan or New Australia or some hole like that, out in the middle of the ocean. Yeah, I looked him up. Pike is the guy's name.”
 
“Pike, huh? What's his story? He's becoming a major pain in my ass. Nobody punches the Kuch out. All of a sudden I'm flat on my back and he's long gone. And his name keeps croppin' up, and every time it's some kinda trouble. So who is he?
 
“Tell yuh the truth, Boss, he's kind of a mystery. Nobody seems to know him. He comes to this country, bums around town, gets a job in a health club, loses that one, and all of a sudden he's workin' as a dog walker. Do you believe that? What kinda chump change can you make towin' dogs around? Outside of that, he gets in fights and hits on broads. And the broads are all turnin' him down. Me, I think he's some kinda weirdo.”
 
“Pike, the weirdo. Sal, you know what I want from you?”
 
“What?”
 
“What this guy is, he's a parasite, am I right? A bug that gets under your skin, makes it hard for you to concentrate. You understand?”
 
“Yeah, yeah.”
 
“When you got a parasite, you go to the store and you pick up a jug of parasite remover. Then, next time you spot the parasite, you yell at him, ‘Hey, buddy, come over here! You're gonna love this!’ And, when he comes over, bang! Your parasite is history. And all the other parasites say, ‘Jesus! Let's get the hell outta Dodge.’ You catch my meaning?”
 
“I got you, big guy. Pike the Parasite goes bye-bye.”
 
“That's my boy. And listen. I told you about that health club deal, the one with Marlon Boyd.”
 
“Yeah. I didn't quite understand what it's all about.”
 
“You understand as much as you need to understand. Keep your eyes and ears open on the street. I'm lookin' to do some major league stuff with this Marlon, and I wanna keep close track of him. Get back to me in a coupla days.”
 
“Right, Boss. I'm on the job. One Boyd, one parasite.”
 
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“Mr. Boyd's office. How may I direct your call?”
 
“Yeah, I'm callin' Marlon. Tell him it's Kuch.”
 
“Please hold, Mr. Kuch.”
 
“Well, well. Am I speaking to Mr. Kucinich, the former national political figure and current Fox News commentator? To what do I owe this honor?”
 
“Very funny, Marlon. No, as a matter of fact, this is the size extra-large Kucinich, with the office six blocks away from where you're sittin' right now. Man! All my life, any Kucinich I ever knew was related to me. Now this little Dennis squirt comes along, and he's the only one in the phone book. None of my cousins ever heard of him, either.”
 
“So how’s the construction business?”
 
“Slow, like always. Listen, Marlon, I been talking to some of my subs about that Van Alstyne Building job, and those boys are ready to go. What's happening on your end? I thought we’d be farther along by now.”
 
“Kuch, I've been getting the same questions from my business partners. The accountants did some number crunching and, believe me, I was on the edge of my chair. Deals like this don't come along very often, so I was pretty pleased with their report. I've got to be frank with you, though. There's some talk around town that some of your building jobs have been bending the rules a bit.”
 
“No, Marlon, don't pay any attention to stuff like that. Yeah, I had some problems, but it was a long time ago. Destiny Living is strictly kosher, I guarantee it, and I can give you more names of satisfied customers if you want.”
 
“No need. I think we understand each other. So here's where we are so far. I've been dealing with Henrik and Margarethe Van Alstyne, the current owners. The father Pieter, who built the building, was the founder of the club, and he was a lifelong fan of squash, just like my dad. Those two old guys were mortal enemies. I remember walking into a bar with my dad. I saw Pieter at the counter and I grabbed Pop by the shoulder, gave him a spin and headed him right back out the door before he could even ask why. But that's ancient history. Henrik and Margarethe are being pressured by their kids to sell the property. They’re sentimental about Pieter's building and the club but the kids are out for the bucks. Right now we're hung up in the permit process and I’m afraid the deal will crash if we loose our forward momentum.”
 
“So what's next?”
 
“Once I close escrow on the building, you start work. Even if we can't raze the building we'll do a major remodel on the club and condo-ize the rest of it. Then I've got both clubs; we tailor one for CEOs and wealthy retirees, the other for the young Wall Street hotshots and the like."
 
“So what’s Destiny Living’s place in the deal, besides as general contractor?”
 
"Here's the thing, Kuch, we've done some projections on the growing interest in squash, and the feeling is that a whole new wave of popularity is just a matter of marketing. I can see another couple of clubs in The City, then maybe one in D.C., Philadelphia... And that's when we take it coast-to-coast. There's a movement afoot to make it an Olympic sport, so we tap into that energy in our marketing. We're thinking condos and apartments and offices connected with the clubs. The high-enders will line up for luxury living with an ultra-modern club on the premises.”
 
“I'm thinkin', Marlon, and I like what I'm thinkin'. When do we start movin'?”
 
“Well, it all looks good, but there's one problem. It's critical that we keep the whole project hushed up until we're completely through the permit process. Even as quiet as we've been, there's been some rumbling in the real estate community and that's not good. If the realtors start smelling eight figure commissions, and the wrong people in city government look too hard at this, it could be a major catastrophe."
 
“So who's making the problems?”
 
“We haven't figured it out yet. There’s someone who's keeping very low to the ground. All we know so far is there's a real estate broker who's been doing a lot of digging lately. Nobody seems able to identify him or trace his office. We do know there's someone asking a lot of pointed questions named Jerry...something.”



Roland Jacopetti has worked in radio for forty years and is the author of "Rescued Buildings" from Capra Press.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.