In The Plan - 1. Chapter 1

1

Doug Hodges got off his train, patiently worked his way down the long, crowded flight of stairs, passed the Railroad Inn, then jogged the half-mile home. He couldn't jog to the station in the morning because he'd get all sweaty, but there was no excuse not to run home. That was easy, since he rarely carried anything heavier than his phone and was able to do his job in casual clothes.

He almost stuck his head into the bar for two minutes, just to see who was there. But he'd be back soon enough. Jenny was working till at least 8:00, so she'd meet him there later. It was nearly staying light long enough so Doug could switch his morning run back to evening and do something more interesting than the dozen laps around the high school track. But not yet.

At home, he checked and sorted his mail - which was mostly junk - then skipped through his phone messages, looking to answer a friendly one from his ex-wife by leaving a message of his own. He'd already heard it at work but didn't want to answer from there. After grabbing a day-old chicken leg from the fridge, he switched to even more comfortable clothes and drove back to the bar. He could have jogged again but knew he'd be coming home late and didn't even like to walk the six blocks in the dark.

The bar was busy, but it was Tuesday, not Friday, so it wasn't jammed. That meant the constant 60s music on the jukebox also wasn't cranked, though it might be in another hour. By then, more regulars would come in. At the bar, he smiled at Robyn, put down a 20, and took his first Dewer's, leaving her the change to cover his second. He'd let the ice melt to take off the sting before he sipped, and meanwhile, he looked around.

The usual gang was there, and he first sat with Bruce Montelongo and his wife Jocelynn who were celebrating their anniversary. There was a small, homemade cake on the table, and they were offering people brownie-sized pieces.

"How many?" Doug asked.

"You can have one," Jocelynn said. "We have more friends meeting us later."

"No, I mean, 'How many years?'" Doug corrected. "Which anniversary are you celebrating?"

"Oh," Jocelynn said, giggling. "I think I put too much rum in this cake."

"Or had too much champagne in your glass," her husband joked.

"That, too." Jocelynn giggled again then turned back to Doug. "Twenty-nine years," she told him.

"Twenty-nine. Wow. I almost made it that far - twenty-seven."

"Maybe you have more imagination than we do," Bruce said.

"Who ever knows?" Doug laughed, to send conversation in another direction. He didn't like to talk about his divorce. Still, he had a piece of cake, sipped a little of his diluting Dewer's, and when other people came along to celebrate, he slipped out of the booth and let them sit down.

Two booths down, Brad Coghlan had Cole Grubaugh in a headlock. It was a friendly headlock, the two of them were laughing, and it was just like Brad to be rough housing. Though this time, he seemed to be going a bit far.

"Ow. Ow. Hey!" Cole was saying, and he wasn't saying it quietly "Shit! That really hurts. You lose all control when you're drinking."

"I'm not drinking," Brad replied.

"You're not drinking now," Cole protested. "But you've been drinking. You and Greg've been putting it away for a couple of hours."

"Have not," Brad insisted.

"You're so full of it - I can smell it on your breath. It's so bad, you reek."

That must have made Brad choke Cole even tighter.

"Ow! Ow! Goddamn it! Let go!"

At that point, Nolan Starizny, the bar owner, came over.

"Hey, Brad. Break it up. Cool it, bud." He broke the headlock by whacking Brad's ass, and Brad tumbled into the booth.

"Get me another one," Brad ordered.

"Another what?" Nolan asked.

"Another of whatever the hell I've been drinking," Brad said, grinning. He turned to Cole. "You gotta work out more. You usta be in better shape."

"You just forget how strong you are," Cole said, still rubbing his neck. "Plus, you snuck up on me. One minute, you're talking to Greg, and the next you're all over me."

"All over? You're not my type."

"Since when are you so picky?"

"Well, I owed you for somethin'," Brad said, happily. "I just can't remember for what." He went on grinning. "But I owed you."

Cole just laughed. He almost went to grab Brad in a surprise headlock of his own but then seemed to think better of it. In any case, once Cole had recovered, Doug sat down.

"You gettin' me that drink?" Brad yelled to Nolan, though the bar owner was standing right there.

"I'm getting you a ride home," Nolan calmly replied, and that got Brad's attention. "Either Greg will take you, or I will."

"I don't need no ride."

"I'll take him," Cole volunteered. "Greg's not ready to drive, either."

They all looked at Greg - who was playing pool, somewhat rowdily.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Brad repeated. "Too early."

"I thought you were meeting Heather," Nolan said. "You said she was expecting you."

"Oh, hell, she's always 'pecting me," Brad said, patting himself where he thought it was most important. "And I'm ready. But I don' wanna leave yet."

"Well, you're not drinking anymore," Nolan insisted. "I'll make sure Robyn knows that."

"You're just as bad as your damned son-in-law. Pain in the asses, both a you."

"You're talking about your best friend," Nolan joked. "Talking about your business partner. And probably the only guy dumb enough hold your head while you're puking out your guts."

To that, Brad clamped his hand over his mouth and blew out his cheeks - as if he planned to cover the table right there. But he wasn't, and everyone laughed.

"No who's gonna drive him home?" Nolan asked again. "I'll get Greg..." he thumbed over his shoulder, "...or I'll go. But I really need to stay here right now."

"I'll drive him," Cole said. "It'll take five minutes."

"I'll go," Doug offered. "It's out of your way," he told Cole. "And Jenny won't show up for at least another hour. So I'm just hanging out."

"Won't go anywhere without my car," Brad mumbled.

"You're car'll be fine," Nolan assured him.

"No, it won't. Not that one."

"Oh, that's right," Nolan seemed to remember. Then he explained. "He's driving the sports car - the Mercedes. It's just out of the shop but still having problems. So he took it to the guys across from the deli."

"The Mercedes?" Cole repeated. "Wow!" He whistled. "I didn't think it was running yet."

"Yeah," Brad slurred, proudly. "It finally came out of the shop. But the timin''s still off, so I took it to the guys this afternoon."

"I'll drive you home in it," Doug said. "I've been wanting to test it anyway. All I've ever heard was talk."

Cole and Nolan laughed. For a year, Brad had been bragging about the '64 Mercedes he'd been restoring, but no one had seen it. It was like a phantom girlfriend.

"No one's gonna drive nothin'," Brad told Doug. "It's my prized pozzession."

They all laughed at 'pozzession,' which Brad tried to correct, but couldn't. Finally, he grinned with them.

"See, you shouldn't be driving it at all," Doug poked. "But, come on - I won't kill the clutch. I know one or two things about sports cars."

He got up, but Brad didn't move.

"Come on. Up." Nolan told Brad. "You've got a private driver - your own chauffeur. And you don't even have to pay."

Brad slowly got up. Trying to stand, even he admitted he was a little gone. "It hits ya when ya stand," he slurred. "Sittin', I feel jus' fine."

"You're sure this is all right?" Nolan asked Doug. "How much've you had?"

"Not a problem," Doug assured him, gesturing with his glass. "Just this one." He drained the dregs of his watery Scotch and set the tumbler on the bar. "Have another one ready when I get back," he called to Robyn. "I already gave you money." He pointed to the change of his twenty.

Robyn picked the change up off the bar for safety. "Sure thing," she said. "It'll be right here."

When Brad nearly fell over Jocelynn Montelongo, who was just sliding out of her booth, anyone who'd missed Brad's condition quickly became aware of it.

"You gonna be all right, bud?" Bruce Montelongo asked.

"Yeah, fine."

"You need a lift home?" Greg Mackel asked, coming over.

"All taken care of," Cole told him.

"All taken care of," Brad echoed.

"You got the keys?" Greg asked Brad. He not only co-owned the deli with Brad. They'd also gone halves on the car.

"I got 'em,' Brad said, thumping his chest pocket. "I'll give 'em to 'im when we're in the car."

"Just make sure you don't drive," Greg warned. "You get a ticket, you'll get kicked off the force."

"Like that's ever gonna happen," Brad said, laughing. Soon after he and Greg got out of the army, they'd opened the deli. Then Brad got hired by the Nassau police. Greg ran the deli full-time, but Brad was still there forty hours a week.

"We're not making enough money selling cole slaw," Greg reminded him. "We need your job."

"Not gonna lose it."

And with that, he was out the door. Doug immediately followed, giving Robyn a final wave. "Be right back," he reminded her.

"I'll have your drink," she said, grinning. Everyone liked Doug as much as they liked his new girlfriend, Jenny. In fact, Robyn was secretly proud that the couple had met in the bar.

After they left, Cole Grubaugh followed Brad and Doug to the door and stood in the entranceway. He waited till he could clearly see Doug standing by the driver's side of the low Mercedes and Brad on the passenger's side. Brad was again feeling his pockets, looking for his keys. He hit the sides of his jeans, then the pockets on his shirt. Then he started digging in his jeans again. After watching for another moment, Cole decided everything was fine, and he went back into the bar.