"How's it going for your big cruise, Hobby? By the way, I've decided to go."
"I already had you down as a passenger, Joe. It's going well. Sue said she'd sail to Cabo with us and fly home from there if Kim would too."
"Kim's all for it, especially after I told her I'd pay for her flight."
"Great. How are you doing on your project to find a chef?"
"I've got a couple guys who'll do it for the money. One wanted five thou, the other eight. I'm still thinking we should be able to find a retired guy who'd do it for a lot less, just for the fun of it. I've got a few more prospects to check out."
Hobby unrolled a large chart on the dining room table. "This covers Baja California down to Costa Rica."
"How far is it to Costa Rica?"
"From Ensenada, our first fuel stop, it's about 2,500 miles, about 100-plus hours of sailing."
"You just had another 500 gallon tank installed in Ensenada. Is that going to be big enough?"
"Joe, it was 2,500 gallons, not 500 hundred! We can reach any destination with that much fuel aboard."
"Not that I'm offering to pay, but how much does it cost to fill that tank?"
"In Mexico, about $7,000. Right now in the States it'd cost twice as much. That's why it pays to fill up there. Since you'll be my information officer, I expect you to check on the price of diesel at our other ports of call."
"Aye, aye, Sir, but besides Ensenada, Cabo, and Acapulco, where are we stopping?"
"Here, look at the chart. Acapulco is about halfway down to Costa Rica, which could be our next stop, or we might stop in Honduras or Nicaragua first. Why don't you check them out and make recommendations to the captain."
"Hobby, don't get carried away with your authority or you might have a mutiny before we leave port. Do you want to go to Commerce with me tonight?"
"Anything special?"
"No, just want to play a bit. It's been over a week."
"Yeah, I've been so busy with the trip I've neglected my poker. Want me to pick you up?"
"How about six and we can have dinner there?"
We both had prime rib, which was excellent, and wet our palettes with a Mondavi Pinot Noir. Hobby headed off to the high stakes room; I went to the riff-raff hold 'em tables. I scanned the room and spotted Patsy Fortuna at a table with a couple open seats. Patsy has a Sicilian-style restaurant in Santa Monica. I sat near him and said, "Not cooking tonight?"
"No more, not that it breaks my heart."
"How come?"
"It's a long story, Joe."
I let it go and concentrated on my cards. Crapola, and then more crapola. It was downright boring for almost an hour until I drew a Qs-Js. Betting was strong with five guys staying in the pot. The flop delivered two more spades, a king and a nine, along with the three of diamonds. A raise and re-raise came before my turn; I called as did Patsy and the original raiser. A nice pot was shaping up for someone, why not me?
The turn produced a lousy six of clubs. A check preceded a bet of about one-quarter of the pot. I looked at my remaining chips, about $75, so I figured I might as well ride my pony to the end of the trail. I called and so did Player No. One. Patsy folded. I visualized a spade floating down the river and I was not disappointed, it was the five of that blackest suit. "Check ... check," came those encouraging words. I slid my stack of chips forward and said, "All-in." I was called by a player who had been sitting on a pair of kings. "How sweet it is," I declared.
I had only modest success the next hour or so. When Patsy got up to leave, I joined him. "Can I buy you a drink?" I asked,
"Jeez, you gotta buy me a bottle of Champagne for all my contributions," Patsy said good-naturedly.
While sloshing around a couple brandies I asked, "So what happened to the restaurant?"
"You know my son, Tony. He's been working at the restaurant for 10-15 years making good money as a waiter and maître'd, but he tells me one day he's not happy. 'Pop, you're too old-fashioned. You gotta get rid of the checkered table cloths and hanging Chianti bottles. This place needs a more modern ambiance.' I was already in a bad mood, so I let him have it with his ambiance ... I don't even know what the freakin' word means." I could see Patsy was still upset as he took a gulp of brandy.
"It's a new generation, I'm not surprised."
"Yeah, well then he says, 'Either you retire or I'll quit and start my own place.' About that time I'm getting an atomic headache and without thinking I says, 'I've had it, do what you want with the f...ing place.'"
I could see he didn't want to talk about it any further, so began telling him about Hobby's upcoming cruise. The sparkle came back in his eyes and he said, "I'd give my left nut, hell I'd give both of them, to go on a trip like that." It was then I spotted Hobby across the lounge walking toward us.
"Hey, Patsy how're you doing?" Hobby asked.
"Joe was just telling me about your big cruise."
It took a couple seconds for the bells to start ringing in Hobby's head and then he said, "How ..."
Before he could say anymore, I kicked him under the table and said, "What Hobby was going to say was, what would it be worth for you to join us?"
"I'd pay whatever is fair," he answered.
Hobby caught on and said, "How about you coming as our chef for a free ride."
Patsy grabbed Hobby's hand and with a rugged shake said, "You got yourself a chef."
Mission accomplished.
Write to author David Valley at: dvalley1@san.rr.com
