THE BRIDGE TO CARACAS (Volume 1 of The King Trilogy)

CHAPTER 4

After a brief and uncomfortable layover in a sleazy Regina motel, Servito raised his thumb on the Trans-Canada Highway and hitchhiked to Toronto. Even though his pockets bulged with wads of stolen and untaxed cash, he immediately commenced a search for an opportunity to make real money. Pumping gasoline at a Canam service station in the core of the city was not exactly what he had envisioned, but it was a start.

The aging and trusting owner of the station, Pop Williams, liked Servito. He allowed him to live in the bedroom at the rear of his office and was pleased to teach him the honest rules of the gasoline game.

Mike's deep sleep was brutally terminated by his mother when she shouted, "It's for you, Mike!"

He slowly lifted himself from his bed and struggled to the telephone in his parents' bedroom. "Hello," he groaned.

"I hope I didn't wake you up," Paul Sanderson said. Paul was one of Mike's fraternity brothers and his former roommate. They were still close friends. The two had played many all-night bridge games and consumed far too much beer together.

"It's time I got up anyway," Mike replied with a wide yawn. "How are you, Paul?"

"Almost insane. I'm twenty-five, still in meds, and working my ass off. If I play my cards right, I might make my first honest buck by the time I'm thirty." He groaned. "How are you?"

"Fine and not the slightest bit envious."

"You always did have a way with words, King." Mike could hear the smile in his friend's voice. "The reason I called is to invite you to a cocktail and dinner party at The Dominion Club next Friday night. For you, I have two tickets and a blind date."

"Who is she, Paul?" Mike asked with extreme trepidation.

"Her name is Barbara Larkin. She's beautiful and you won't be disappointed."

"How beautiful?" he mumbled.

"Ten, without even trying"

"Paul, I...." Mike's return to the University of Toronto had changed his attitude toward study and commitment. He had purposefully avoided social functions, particularly the frivolity of weekend parties, which had previously been a standard feature. His focus and determination were therapeutic, sparing him from the despair and loneliness that had threatened to consume him in the months following the loss of Karen. "I thought the Dominion club didn't allow women?"

"Well they are making a special exception, Mike. You won't believe the guest speaker."

"Who?" Mike asked.

"Jack."

Mike racked his brain for a moment.

"Miller?" he guessed, pulling from a mental roster of their fraternity brothers.

"Kennedy."

Mike was suddenly wide awake. "How the hell did you get tickets?"

"Relative ability. Amazing things happen when your father's the Ambassador to the United States. I should also mention that this is a $500 a plate dinner."

"So the evening's going to cost me a grand?"

"Not a dime. The tickets are free."

Mike chuckled. "The ever-so-sweet talking Sanderson. You're very persuasive, as usual."

"Then you're in?"

"Sure." How could he miss an opportunity to hear and see John F. Kennedy in person?

"Great! See you at the front door of the Dominion Club next Friday. Cocktails are at five and dinner's at six. It's black tie, if you can find one."

Mike hung up with care. Then he paused, wondering what it would be like to be with a girl who was not Karen.