27

Mags hopped a cab to the clubhouse. She went alone without any distractions from Rami, since that’s what he had become to her. Jim was someone whom she could understand, since he was a prototype of nineteen sixty. Quiet. Respectful, and downright-boring. He would never abandon the image that was created of Jim’s meticulous map given to him by Ben. Since her discovery of the house on First Avenue South in Minneapolis, her awareness of one problem that Mags never thought about was alcohol. It was everywhere. Public intoxication among men was a right of passage, and nothing to be afraid of. This little journey would reinforce that idea, that maybe it was not something to be taken lightly.

“Where to lady!” he said with a smile, which never happened out East.

Mags smiled with the universal language of cab drivers no matter the part of the country. ‘Where to lady’ must be affixed to the cabbie’s license application- ‘always use this phrase and failure will result in permanent suspension…’

“Twenty-two eighteen First Avenue South,” she said.

The gruff looking man of about forty looked in his mirror with curiosity.

“That’s for drunks! You don’t look like a-okay lady.”

Standing in front of the Pillsbury House alone, she felt lonely. Rami wasn’t there to bolster her street cred with the men smoking and laughing on the large porch that wrapped around the house to accommodate the good humor thrown around. Mags smiled at the easy-going nature of the men, all men, and their joy.

“Hey Mags, where’s Rami!”

That hit her like a friendly poke a pal would do to show affection. She stopped and looked for the direction of the voice. There he was a tall, good-looking fellow roughly her age with a smile that was as foreign as the accent. Blonde and big, athletic build.

“Over here!” he yelled while waving.

This was never done. Mags didn’t know the protocol of this situation.

“Come here Mags!” he said again with what could have been a scene from a Hollywood movie.

“Okay,” she replied.

She walked the thirty feet and walked the five steps onto the porch where the big man stationed himself. Apparently, he never missed anything, since standing next to the door wouldn’t allow that.

“So good to see you, the meeting starts in ten minutes…”

“Meeting. You know, AA.”

She looked at him with a smile.

“No, not me. I don’t have a problem with drinking…”

Before she could finish-

“Don’t worry, no one will know. Christ, if Rami knows…”

There was a reference for Rami again. What was his hold on these men, and this one.

“Where is he anyhow?” he asked looking down at her.

This blonde gentleman must have been over six foot five, and had blonde stubble to match is thick blonde hair. It was longer than the crew-cut fashion of the day, so he would have been considered a ‘beat nick’. She couldn’t move and waited for him to finish.

“Come in, its upstairs.”

Not knowing if it would be rude to spurn his request, Mags stopped on the second stair. He looked behind her with a warm smile

“You’re with friends. Its anonymous.”

If he had been selling cars, she would have bought one. There was something so charming about him. Open, smiling, friendly, it wasn’t behavior that she was used to, except by Sid.

She sat next to him in the small room with about fifteen chairs in a circle, while he offered his hand-

“I’m Jack.”

Since Rami had already broken the anonymous rule, since he already knew her name.

“We rarely get women in the groups, and I must admit you are a sight for sore eyes.”

She laughed and wondered why these charming men kept appearing from nowhere. Was she in an alternative universe where niceness was the norm? ‘Minnesota nice’ she heard about, so it wasn’t just a theory.

“I really am not…”

Jack stopped her with a finger over his lips.

“I know. It took me time too…”

The meeting was over in an hour as the cigarette smoke haze lingered heavy in her eyes. She rubbed her eyes, walking down the stairs and at the bottom was Betty, blowing more smoke towards her.

“Really? You couldn’t say no?”

She had a brusque sounding voice that went along with a regular smoking habit for decades. It matched her gruff exterior. Mags smiled with innocence.

“Stay away from Jack. He’s charming and available. You think Rami is a pain in the ass, Jack is goddamn the most, you see him for Christ’s sake!”

Betty was overwhelmed with her assessment and quickly turned her back when she saw him descending the rickety staircase.

“There you are!” he bellowed without concern. “Let grab a bite.”

They sat eating in the club’s dining room. It was good kitchen fair, which surprised Mags considering the address.

“Fred is the cook, used to work for top-shelf restaurants. Studied in Paris too.”

It tasted like something Mags had eaten at some Fifth Avenue joint in New York City and was equally impressed.

“It’s better than the Eats at…”

“For Christ’s sake, you are at the Leamington. So am I!”

Her fork almost dropped out of her hand as Jack described how he jogged here to get in shape for?

“Football Mags. I am Jack Baker, quarterback of the Michigan Wolverines! Ever heard of that team?”

Before she could answer, Rami walked in looking worse for wear. It was hard for him to ignore that Mags was now being courted by another man about town and looked away. Betty sensed the drama and lit a cigarette.

Rami! Get your ass over here and greet your friends. Mags went to her first meeting and was great!”

If she wasn’t sure, it seemed like her ears were starting to ring from the incessant yelling that the quarterback was doing. He was on his third cup of coffee, to go along with the pot he brought into the meeting. What was it with coffee and alcoholics? At least he didn’t smoke.

“I quit smoking to keep up my wind for the upcoming season!” he said with too much volume.

She shook her head with support for his decision.

Rami was still unsure on whether to join them, and waved Jack off while mouthing-later. Not missing a beat, he went on to tell her that he was transferring to Minnesota and was excited to ‘get muddy again’.

Unsure of Jack’s reason, she skipped the analysis. Her more pressing concern was finding out what Rami was doing with the group downstairs the other day.

“So, Rami…”

Before she could finish, Mr. Caffeine broke into a description of Rami as a man for whom good works was his life, and he even had a positive thinking course he taught.

“I attended. Sat behind him on stage,” she said with satisfaction.

“Isn’t he amazing! Just like Doctor Norman Vincent Peale!”

There was the point of contention that Ben had brought up about being at Yale and quarterback and his friend never having heard of him-

“You know Rami? Quarterback at Yale. Won student of year for three straight years in law school. I mean he comes from wealthy family, and you would never know! A true gentleman!”

Now that Jack had cleared his name from slander, there was still Ben’s friend who had never heard of him. She didn’t want to drag out that point of contention, yet-

“Even changed his name. Harmon Brewer! Can you believe that? Like that maniac who plays for the Senators in Washington D.C.! Sid told him to move to Minneapolis, things were ‘brewing’, get it?”

If Mags was a man, she was certain that Jack would have slapped her on the back about now. So, Rami is Harmon Brewer.

“Reason he went back to Rami is one of the precepts of the program is in being totally honest with oneself. You can’t do that running around with a fake name, now can you!” Since jack’s voice carried to Saint Paul, Rami overheard everything he said and smiled at Mags, while Betty lit a cigarette and Bob Allison shrugged.