Rosemary sat in the front of the Pontiac looking at the smudge pots offering a path along Road 100. Ahead, a semi-truck swayed onward to Chicago, smoke billowing from its exhaust. Rosemary tapped a pen against the side window as if to keep bad spirits away. It seemed hours since leaving home. Rosemary still was inside the city limits. She wanted to visit Chicago. Her girlfriends spoke of trips there to the department stores for trunk shows. Rosemary shopped at Ayres at Glendale Mall. She purchased her clothes at Ayres warehouse. Without fashion, she learned to delight.
Artie drove past Rock Island Refinery and wheeled the Pontiac into a Phillips 66 service station. Two uniformed attendants hurried over. One pumped gas while the other cleaned the windshield and checked the oil and tires. Artie walked to a pay phone and fished for a dime. Rosemary noticed a kennel next to the station. Three dogs were leashed together by a harness. One dog barked at the field behind the building, while another pulled toward the gate. The dog in the middle shivered helplessly, caught between the two. Fumes lingered from the refinery. Rosemary realized she had a headache.
When he returned, Artie signed the gas receipt for the attendant, took the green stamps, and handed back the small clipboard. The attendant snapped out the customer copy and wished them safe travels. Finally, Artie turned to Rosemary and broke the silence. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m changing my mind.” Rosemary smiled, “You charm people a room at a time. Why won’t you do this? When you’re in your scraps, I’m always on your side.” Artie replied, “Really? Do I have to bleed for you?” Rosemary responded. “You’re thick skinned. Would take a deep cut to draw blood from you. Besides, a doctor learns from his patient’s ailment. They’ll make money from their next victim.” The silence returned.
The Pontiac sped past the highway junction to Chicago, crossed Eagle Creek, and after Lafayette Road braked hard and turned into a gravel drive. Artie cut the lights. Ahead was a stone sluice flowing away from an old mill. It ran next to a stone house with a few cars parked outside. “That turn can sneak up on you," said Artie. Rosemary got out of the car and said, “Come get me in a few minutes.” Artie watched as Rosemary waited by the front door. It opened and Rosemary disappeared inside the house. He turned on the radio. The Twist was playing. After a while, a Plymouth Fury pulled beside the Pontiac. A man rolled down the window. “Thanks for the call. She inside?” Artie left the keys in the ignition and the radio blaring as he got out of the Plymouth. “We’re up, let’s go, Frank.”
Artie and Frank knocked at the front door. A pudgy man with thick glasses answered and motioned them in. Frank expected a welcome but got none. Rosemary stood by a large map of the city pinned to a wood panel wall. A dapper man pointed out two red circles on the map. Rosemary shook her head and gestured at two blue circles. It was hard for Frank to pay attention to the dapper man as Rosemary commanded all the light in the room. Rosemary walked behind the dapper man, rested her palm on his shoulder, and extended her other arm past him at the blue circles. Her breasts pressed into him. The pudgy man nodded. The shoulders of dapper man sunk. Artie motioned to Frank and said, “Frank is the engineer for the Department of Transportation. Shouldn’t be too hard to push the entrance to the interstate to your land over there. Right, Frank?” Frank threw back his shoulders, gestured at the map, and said, “The mayor needs your help. Councilor Walls may challenge him. He needs five grand to get some things done.” The dapper man extended four fingers and a thumb at the two red circles and said, "The mayor needs less help."
Frank stopped. Rosemary looked over at Artie, who broke into a big grin. Artie slid one foot forward, began to do the Twist, and said, “That Chubby Checkers is no fool. Folks see him on television and want to be near him. Folks follow him. On tour he stays free at Howard Johnsons. Happy to have his fans stay there. There’s always a party in the parking lot. Artie stopped dancing. “We have known each other a long time. The Township Trustee is making us raise property taxes so we can pay you doctors at Wishard for abortions and alcohol treatments. You’re making money off pistol and knife wounds, too. You would be smart to help out with our downtown convention center. That’s where your action is. Do you really want hoopla springing up at your exits on the interstate circling this city? That kind of help is eight grand, blue circles. That's it, we are leaving.” Artie gathered up Frank and the two walked out without further word. Outside, they climbed into the Fury and drove off.
Rosemary turned to the two doctors, “Sorry, that Artie is such an idiot. I’ll get him to change his mind. What do you say? Help out, ten grand for the red circles?”
