Locomotive to the Past, George Schultz [snow like ashes series txt] 📗

(by any yardstick) contest! She seemed almost as engaged—as he was! (Thank you, Lord!)

When Jason dropped off, his brand new, “certified” fiancée, on that fateful night—after the happy couple had snagged a pair of glorious hamburgers, at the equally-glorious Marcus, on Grand River—he had become a good deal more (ah) “aggressive”! This, unfamiliar-for-him, display of affection, of course, represented his “doing his best”, to follow the “suggestion”—that his newly-minted intended had previously “indicated”! Just prior to “puck droppage”!

This all took place, well before the blatant, “Get A Room”, narcissistic, segment—of the American “culture”—had begun to, so-gloriously, “bloom”! In any case, our now-engaged hero had refrained, from going anywhere near the territory—which would’ve provoked that “fraternal” cry!

Despite this gentlemanly show of admirable restraint, he’d found himself experiencing a multitude of, absolutely-aroused, feelings! Brand new, hardly-understandable, emotions! Extremely difficult, complicated, ones! Arousals—that he’d, honestly, never known before!

And it was all good!

TWENTY THREE

The following weeks went fairly quickly for Our Hero! Well, except for the endless, physically-demanding, “fanny-dragging”, hours at work! There were times—usually on most Thursday nights (when Jason couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d ever “made it this far”! How he’d ever survived, that particular, never-ending, week!) And, of course, there was still tomorrow—to deal with! Always—still tomorrow! (Fortunately, in the situations cited, tomorrow happened to be payday! Thank God!)

Granted, the ever-so-generous powers that be had—over the second or third week—added a bountiful number, of helpful wheelbarrows, for his (and for the many other laborers’) well-being, and gratification! That had been a help!

Jason, of course, did know what the utilitarian heavy metal units were. And what each of the implement’s obvious purpose was. Of course he knew all about them! Didn’t everybody? But, he could not recall the last time he’d actually seen a wheelbarrow. At least, not in the early-21st century! Couldn’t say—for sure—whether he’d ever actually seen, one of those dandies, “back then”! Not till his arrival, in 1942, anyway! Not in the flesh! Certainly, he’d never come in direct contact with one! In any epoch!

This particular “breed of cat” was of a far deeper—far deeper—variety, than any pedigree of barrow, that he’d ever known existed! The better to haul more bricks! (Thanks a lot!) As well as increasing the ability—to load on an abundance, of those dainty cement bags, the delicate cement blocks, the always-present pipe, etc. etc. etc.!

Plus, they did have to be loaded—and unloaded! Still, the “durn things” did make getting from Point-A—to Point-B—easier! Somewhat! Didn’t help much—as you might’ve guessed! Our celebrated laborer seemed to remain just as exhausted—at the end of each day—as had been the case, before the celebrated installation, of “The New Wheelbarrow Regime”!

On the other hand, a seemingly-calming factor had—thankfully—popped up! The addition—which (if nothing else) made those bone-wearying days, at the site, much more interesting! Much more “interesting”—eventually!

Valerie had complained that Jason had not been, at all, talkative—while they’d been on their way to the Wings game, against the Canadiens. That had been due to the fact that her certified boyfriend-to-become-fiancé had been hatching a “for-real” plan—in his, self-proclaimed, “evil, devious, little mind”!

It’s a wonder, he’d continually mused, that she couldn’t smell the wood burning . . . from where she was sitting!

From the second or third day, of the acclaimed Herman Gardens project, there had been this strange “critter” walking around the grounds. And, as the area, of the construction site, had expanded, so did this man’s seeming “rounds”. He looked almost like a character out of a Damon Runyon play.

No one appeared to know—exactly—from where he’d come! But, he seemed to move around—every square inch, of the massive property—with impunity! Stunning impunity—considering that there was, always, an infinite number of government entities involved, in the massive project!

He was reputed to be a bookie—as well as a member of some supposed “gang”! A “big time” outfit—which (among other things) ran the local “numbers” racket! An overwhelming—highly-intimidating—operation, in those days! There was even a rumble—eventually, a widely-spread rumor—that he’d reported to “none other… than to the Lucky Luciano! To Luciano… himself”!

As time had gone along, the “bookie”, and “numbers”, rumors turned out—to not be rumors, at all! In a matter of (probably) two weeks, everyone (seemingly, in the entire Western Hemisphere) knew of the truthfulness, of those outside-the-law “legends”! (Luciano? Well, no one could be sure!)

After all, Lucky Luciano was Lucky Luciano! But, considering the sweeping, graying, “cookie-duster”—which looked as though it had been spread across the entire, semi-wrinkled, landscape, of his face—the “almost-cartoon-like” character certainly didn’t look like Luciano material! Again, more like an escapee from an exaggerated Damon Runyon world.

Starting the mid-week—following the Montreal game—Jason had made it a point, to track down this man! This Hurley Stackhouse individual! This tall, slender, almost-fragile-looking, mustachioed, hair-thinning-rapidly, man! The man whose physical appearance was eons away—from the image his name would seem to have indicated! At first glance, one would imagine this particular person’s name to have been Elmer Twing—or something.

From that Wednesday forward, Jason would always place one dollar, on a number! (It was always 5-7-9. Our Hero had no idea—from whence that combination, of those three digits, had come. But, he felt, it was as good as any numerical trio.)

Jason had, initially, advised the estimable Mr. Stackhouse that he’d had a dream—the previous night—about those particular numbers. From then on, he simply continued to play them.

Our favorite laborer had never dreamed that he’d ever win! The whole “evil”, “devious”, scheme had been conceived—to “set up” this dynamo! Who could ever imagine that—on day 10, of Jason’s campaign—Stackhouse would present him—with $25.00! Coin of the realm! His number had “won”! Jason had absolutely no idea—as to how “the system” worked! But, he’d won, don’tcha know! Hallelujah! He could always use the twenty-five! (Who couldn’t?)

The NHL regular season was ending on Thursday—March 19th, The playoffs would begin the following Sunday—“The Twenty-twoth”!

That had been a bit of a surprise! For as long as Jason could remember, the hockey season had always ended—on a Sunday. The playoffs—to the