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The Sweet End of the Lollipop
Notes: Jack Lemmon died last week at the age of 76, from complications resulting from cancer. This wonderfully talented man had a career that spanned more than five decades. He played in everything from screwball comedy to intense drama, and made it look easy. Jack won Best Actor for 'Save the Tiger' as a beleagured businessman, and Best Supporting Actor for the role of Ensign Pulver in 'Mr. Roberts', and was nominated for an Oscar another six times, a monumental achievement. Though today's audience probably knows him best for his comedy in movies such as Grumpy Old Men abd The Odd Couple, he had the respect of both critics and peers for his turns in wrenching dramas such as 'The Days of Wine and Roses', tense thrillers like 'The China Syndrome', and important political dramas like 'Missing'. I remeber him best for his comedy, and will always be grateful that he gave us 'Daphne'. You will be missed, Jack.

Additional notes: The 'Rudoph Valentino in a bed sheet' remark refers to his role in The Shiek. He was one of the movie's first sex symbols. 'Herbie' is Herbert Hoover, president in 1929. 'The berries' means pretty much the same thing as 'the cat's pajamas' or 'the bee's knees': overwhelmingly excellent.

Part 13

So there I was, on the bandstand, waiting out the last minutes to my date with Osgood Feilding the Third. Yeah, that's right. He talked me into it. Don't ask me HOW. It may have had something to do with that book on hypnotism he was reading earlier.

I might have enjoyed the gig if I didn't have that hanging over my head. Heaven knows it was a classier place than we were used to playing. It was good sized. There were at least two hundred ladies and gents in evening gowns and white dinner jackets (Yes, all the gents were in dinner jackets, Joe and I were the only ones in evening gowns. Unless someone was keeping some REAL interesting secrets) foxtrotting around the floor or sitting at the tables. A mirrored ball turned overhead, casting flickering lights charmingly on the throng below.

We were up on the band dias, playing out little hearts out. We were all wearing matching evening gowns and long earings. Personally I would have preferred bobs--those dangly ones made my neck look so long. Sugar was up in front beside Sweet Sue, plucking her ukelele and and singing "I Wanna Be Loved by You" in the most approved jazz baby style, complete with boop-boop-a-doops.

She was doing a fine job, but her mind wasn't completely on her work. She was busily scanning the crowd, looking for her bespectacled Prince Charming. There was no sign of him, naturally, because he was sitting right in front of me, blowing sax and wearing a knock-off of a Paris original.

I scanned the room with Sugar, but with more dread than anticipation. And there he was, not too far off, at a table by himself. Osgood Fielding the Third, complete with white mess jacket, cap, and amorous gleam in his eye. He waved, and I lifted my nose, turning my head away.

Joe said, "Your boyfriend is wavig at you."

"You can both go take a flying jump!"

Joe's voice was warning. "Remember, he's your date for tonight. So smile." I managed a feeble smile. "Come on, you can do better than that," he urged. "Give him teeth, the whole personality."

I fixed a smile on my face that would not have been out of place on one of Spats Colombo's former enemies after the stiff handlers got through with him. Through gritted teeth I said, "Why do I let you talk me into these things? Why?"

We both knew the answer to that, but Joe said, "Because we're palls--buddies--the two musketeers."

"Don't give me the musketeers! You know damn good and well it's your musket that got me into this. How'm I going to keep the guy ashore?"

"Tell 'im you get seasick on a yacht. Play miniature golf with him."

"Oh no. I'm not getting caught in a miniature sandtrap with that guy. And I shudder to think what would happen if I had to go into the rough to retrieve a ball."

The cheeky young bellhop that had been flirting with Joe earlier came up to the bandstand, carrying a huge wicker basket of flowers. He grinned at Joe. "Which of you dolls is Daphne?"

Joe jerked his head toward me. "Bull fiddle."

He handed the basket to me and nodded toward Osgood. "It's from Satchell Mouth at table Seven." He broke off one of the flowers and handed it to Joe. "This is from me to you, doll."

Joe sniffed. "Beat it, Buster."

The kid had more self-confidence than Rudolph Valention when he's wearing a bedsheet. "Never mind leaving your door open--I got a passkey."

He winked and moved off. Jerry scowled. "That's it. We're sleeping with a chair under the door knob from now on."

He picked up the basket, and I said, "Hey. What are you doing with my flowers?" I mean, I didn't particularly want them, mind you. It wasn't like I wanted to give Fielding any encouragement, but they were mine.

"I'm just borrowing them. You'll get them back tomorrow." He handed me the single flower. I watched as he fished a small envelope out of his cleavage and slipped it into the basket.

Sugar finished her number and came back to sit next to Joe. As Sue led the orchestra into her closing, signature number, Sugar sighed, "I guess he's not going to show up. It's almost one. You suppose he forgot?"

Joe shrugged. "Well, you know how those millionaires are." He pointed at the flowers. "These came for you."

"For me?" She picked up the envelope and removed the card, reading it. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "It's Shell Oil!"

I gave a mock gasp. "No!"

"Yes! He wants me to have supper with him on his yacht. He's going to pick me up at the pier."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Joe glared at me. "You heard her--yes."

Sugar almost squealed. "Oh, Josephine! Just imagine, me, Sugar Kowalcsyk, from Sandusky, Ohio, on a millionaire's yacht. If my mother could only see me now!"

I straightened my neckline and looked at a beaming Osgood. "I'm glad my mother will never find out." He caught my look and, so help me, blew kisses.

Sue gave her closing spiel to the audience. "That's it for tonight, folks. This is Sweet Sue, saying good night, and rminding all you daddies out there--every one of my girls is a virtuoso--and I intend to keep it that way!"

As she finished speaking, Sugar picked up her ukelel and my flowers, and tiptoed out. Joe, the rat, waved after her, wishing her good luck.

As soon as Sue cut the music Joe frantically began packing up his sax. Then he leaped off the bandstand and sprinted to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Quite an accomplishment for someone in a formal.

I spared a moment to wonder how he planned to get changed and get down to the pier before Sugar, but then I was distracted. Osgood was coming up to the bandstand to 'claim' me. His approach was watched with a great deal of interest by the other girls.

"Daphne," Dolores whispered. "Damn, girl! Maybe yours isn't as young as Sugar's but he looks like a real sugardaddy. You go, girl."

Osgood swept a bow to me and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"I... uh... I need to take my fiddle to my room."

Oh, that gleam in his eye became a beacon. "I'll be happy to help you."

What? Osgood--and me--in a hotel room? I turned to Dolores. "Dolores, sweety, be a dear and take my bass up for me?"

She frowned. "Hey, I'm all for helping out true love, but that thing is heavy."

I shoved it at her. "Then get Bienstock to do it." I stepped down off the bandstand. "Ready to go."

"Excellent!" He offered his arm again. I sighed. Well, there wasn't any way around it. I put my hand on his arm. He took it and tucked it securely in the crook of his elbow, then started to lead me out of the club. I'd never been escorted like this before. He was behaving himself so far, being a perfect gentleman. But still there was something... intimate in that gesture. I was surprised to find myself relaxing a little.

As we exited the hotel I said, "Mr. Fielding..."

"Please, call me Osgood."

"Perhaps later. Mr. Fielding..."

"May I call you Daphne?"

The way he said the name made it sound like 'Helen of Troy'. "Um... I suppose so." He beamed. We walked a few steps farther. "Osgood..."

"Yes, Daphne?"

"Osgood, I can't go out on your yacht with you?"

He didn't stop walking, but his face fell. "But you promised. I've been so looking forward to our date."

"I'm not calling off the date, I'm just calling off the cruise. We have to stay landlocked."

"But it's such a waste--a full moon," He wiggled his eyebrows. "An empty yacht."

"I'll throw up," I said shortly.

He sighed, then perked up. "Well, why don't we go dancing, then? I know a little roadhouse down the coast..."

At that moment something whizzed past us so fast that my skirt ruffled. I caught a glimpse of a blazer, a cap, and spectacles. My mouth dropped open. "Well, I'll be--!"

"What is it, my sweet?" Osgood asked.

"He really does have a bicycle!"

"Who?"

"Uhh... the president. I hear that Herbie just whizzes all over Washington."

"Oh." He seemed puzzled, but perfectly willing to be charmed by my knowledge of political/athletic trivia. "About that roadhous..."

"Tell you what, let's walk out the that pier and back, then we'll go." He hesitated. I batted my eyelashes at him and smiled. "Like you said, it would be awful to waste this moon." Osgood positively glowed. I felt a little rotten about myself. He was turning out to be a good egg, and I was flim-flamming him almost as badly as Joe was Sugar.

Osgood was still talking as we strolled. "You'll like the roadhouse. They have a Cuban band that's the berries. We can blindfold the orchestra and tango till dawn."

And he was a romantic little devil, too. "You know what, Osgood? You're dynamite."

He winked. "You're a pretty hot little number yourself."

We came close to the pier just in time to see Joe, on his bicycle, swoop under it while Sugar ran up on top and started looking around for her date. Osgood was busy looking at my face in the moonlight, which was why he didn't see Joe jump into the motorboat marked CALDONIA, jerk off the dangling earings he'd almost forgotten, and stand up to wave to Sugar, calling "Ahoy, there!"

She hurried down to him. "Been waiting long?"

"It's not how long you wait, it's who you're waiting for." Oo, I wanted to smack him, spouting off that gallant gibberish while he was busy being such a rat. When Sugar thanked him for the flowers, the SOB tutted and said he had intended to fly down orchids from his greenhouse, but Long Island was fogged in! As if my Osgood's... I mean Fielding's flowers weren't good enough.

We were almost to the pier, and it was time to turn around before Osgood could notice what was going on aboard his motorboat, though I was tempted to just let him find out. But, to tell you the truth, I was beginning to look forward to that roadhouse and Cuban band. It had been a long time since I'd gone dancing.

I waited just long enough to see Joe make an absolute fool out of himself trying to run the motor boat. The most nauticle experience he had was a couple of trips out to boats docked in the Great Lakes for secret poker parties. First he claimed it was out of gas, and Sugar found that ironic, what with him being Shell Oil, Junior.

Then he did get it started, and couldn't get it in drive. If he was going anywhere, it was going to be in reverse. But even that didn't stop him. Talk about surmounting obstacles, Joe could talk his way over Mount Everest, given half a chance. He claimed the motorboat was an experimental model, and would she mind going backwards, though it might take a little time? Sugar replied grandly, "It's not how long it takes, it's who's taking you."

I just shook my head as they backed off into the night, headed for the New Caldonia. "Okay, Osgood, I've had enough fresh air. Let's go get decadent."

He had been keeping my left hand tucked in his right elbow as I walked beside him. Now he took it in his left hand and slid his right arm around my waist, pulling me close against his side. Surprised, I looked up at him.

Did I say he looked like a basset hound? I meant a grand-champion, blue ribbon winning basset hound. He smiled down at me and purred, "My dear, I thought you'd never ask."

The Sweet End of the Lollipop Contents
Lollipop, Chapter 14Lollipop, Chapter 12
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