YOU CAN QUIT TOMORROW

From the R.M. Dolin novel, “An Unsustainable Life – The Book of Issac”

Chapter 3: You Can Quit Tomorrow

With warm-up pitches in the books and the bullpen confident today will be an easy outing, the exciting Chicago Cubs take the field for the final contest in their three-game home stand just as Issac finally pins Murphy down for resolution of the important matter, they’ve been discussing all afternoon. “Have you had a chance to mull this over” Issac asks following the Murphy down the old oak bar, stained black from years of spilt Guinness and beguiled expectations.

“Look lad,” Murphy hurriedly states as he lets one pint of Guinness settle while topping off another. “You picked a rather bad time to open negotiations don’t you think.”

“Not from where I sit behind the bleachers.” Issac fires back. “Given that you need me pretty bad these next nine innings, I’d say my timing’s perfect.”

“I’ll concede that point sure enough,” Murphy admits while pocketing the cash from his last two pours as thirsty Cubs fans queue up for their lead-off pint with the game about to get underway. “The whole lot of you Olinski’s have always been shrewd negotiators. For the life of me I don’t even know why I even ever allowed your clan to start coming here.”

Issac’s undeterred by Murphy’s insult masquerading as a complement, in part out of desperation but equally due to his inherent need to charm his way to a win. “You’re just saying that cause you like me but seriously, I’m not asking for anything different than what you do for the other bartenders and most of them won’t work game day; too many pours for not enough tips, that’s what they say about this blue-collar crowd.”

“Maybe laddie, but they didn’t get on by saying they’ll work for free then try to change the agreement as soon as they become necessary.”

“Isn’t that the nature of the employer/employee relationship or do I have my union history wrong?”

“No, you got your God-damn union bullshit down proper.”

“So, in addition to being paid, I also need to keep my tips and my side hustle money from now on, but don’t worry, I’ll still cut in on the Vig.”

“Whoa now lad, you just erased the very reason I have for keeping you on.”

“Then I quit.”

“Oh no you don’t. The games about to start and I ain’t got no back up, so you can quit tomorrow.”

“What about today?”

“Today we’ll figure it out.”

“I only agree to stay today if there’s a tomorrow.”

“What are, lovers now? Should I give you my promise ring or some such foolishness.” Murphy pours another stout, stopping at the precise point where the foam can no longer be supported above the glass rim. He looks at Issac in exacerbated surrender, “If ya don’t quit today, we’ll figure tomorrow out then, and then the next day after that. That’s how things work in the real-world lad, you show up, you make yourself necessary, and in return I keep you on the payroll.”

Issac extends his hand. “I accept your terms, and just so we’re clear, I’m needing to be paid in cash, can’t afford to have Uncle Sam crawling around up in my business.”

Murphy looks at Issac’s extended hand before grasping it firmly. “Then you don’t get union wages cause I ain’t taken on no union shit here.” He smiles at his newest paid employee, “You sure you ain’t Darwin’s kid? Seems ya got a lot more of him driven ya than you do his brother.”

“No,” Issac laughs with relief at successfully securing his first paid job. “I’m sure if that were true the family scandal would have long ago come out.”

“They have tests for that ya know, happy to oblige if you’ll let me run a wager on the outcome?”

“No,” Issac sighs, “It’d be like taking money from Lenny since I already know the outcome.”

“You’re call, but here’s our deal; since you were formally never here to start with, no point putting ya on the books now, so cash it is. Just don’t be saying any of this to Gallo; ten thousand accountants in this crazy corrupt city and I gotta have the one who’s honest.”

Issac laughs, “Likewise you can’t say nothing to him about me either, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I got a job, so this new arrangement has to stay just between us.”

“And Lenny.” Murphy adds in a hushed whisper as he carries four pints to the queue station at his end of the bar. “And of course all the other disappointed investors.”

Issac follows, “What investors?”

Murphy laughs, “we had us a little wager and Lenny won.”

“What the hell you are talking about?”

“You know how this bar works; we run all kinds of bets on just about anything. Well, the current big pot bet is about when you’ll be forced to get a paying job and while I’m having my mea culpa moment, I might as well tell you there’s sure to be a follow up wager on how long miss fancy-pants stays with you after she finds out your broke. Lenny had you on a job in early June but then doubled down to now; said it had something to do with some preacher and his betting strategy. Anyway, after you took up with that rich woman we could all see you were living beyond your means and that sort of shit ain’t sustainable so we knew it was just a matter of time before you burned through your trust fund. The longer you went, the more takers we got; pretty much everyone here’s in on the wager and Lenny just won, the lucky bastard. For the record, I had ya at mid-October, thought you were richer than you apparently are.”

Issac signals to the guy’s growing inpatient at his end of the bar, “You’re saying folks would actually bet on when me and Gabriella break up?”

“After you tell her you’re broke that’ll be the wager.”

“Well, bet away to your hearts content cause you’re all gonna lose, Gabriella and I are in love.”

“Oh, you naive little bastard,” Murphy laughs. “I’ll wager if you tell her tonight that you just got a job, you’re eating re-hydrated Ramon alone in your apartment by next Tuesday.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Issac declares as he starts back to his end of the bar no longer able to ignore the growing line of impatient customers queued up for refills. “And for the record,” he turns and shouts back to his boss, “I’m not broke, I’m having a cash flow crisis.” He turns to walk the rest of the way to his station. “Whatever the hell that means.”

It takes until the bottom of the second inning for Issac to work through his backlog. It helps that the Cubs mounted one of their patented ‘almost-rallies,’ because nobody orders refills during a rally. Once he’s caught up, Issac takes a moment to catch his breath before sauntering over to where Lenny’s sitting. “Care to wager on your Cubs?” he sarcastically inquires while setting an unordered Guinness on the bar.

“Why,” Lenny abruptly answers, “you just give the winnings to Murphy anyway, which I have to tell you is a bit insulting.”

“Not anymore,” Issac states without hesitation or embarrassment. “From here on out I’m in it for me; Murphy still gets his Vig, but other than that, I’m an independent operator.”

Lenny gets out his phone to check the date, then looks up with a shit-eating grin. “I won didn’t I.”

“Won what?” Issac asks pretending not to know.

“Ya finally crashed, didn’t ya? We all knew it was just a matter of time given how you carry on. I had you back in June to start with, but shifted once I saw you rally after the cocktail tossing incident on the Pier.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

“All the way back in May,” Lenny continues, we were picking dates. Most of this bar’s in on it. Why do you think I tried so hard to get you to come work at my shop back in June. I figured I could buy my way to victory, but you were being stubborn. So, tell me, did you give your uncle a call to hook you up with a fancy high-tech gig downtown, I hear those jobs pay big bucks.”

No, it’s been a minute since I talked to Uncle Darwin and besides, I don’t have the credentials for that kind of work.” Issac gestures towards the other end of the bar, “Murphy’s gonna put me on full time with pay, plus, I get to keep all tips and wagers.”

“I’ll be damned.” Lenny chuckles. “We all knew you’d crash but I don’t know that anyone had you coming on here full time. What’s the over/under on things with Miss Fancy Pants?”

Issac laughs, “You boys need to get a life, you know that. This living vicariously through me is not sustainable.”

“I don’t know,” Lenny teases, “I just made a shit-ton of money off your life, so what’s the over/under, I’m gonna want to get in on this action.

Issac decides that since most the bar’s gonna vicariously live through him it’s better to join them than try to beat them. “Murphy says if I tell her tonight that I work here now because I need the money, he’ll give her until next Tuesday to pull the plug.”

“You know you can’t wager, right, on account of the obvious conflict of interest and all. However, since you are a betting man, if you could get in on the action, would you take the over or under?”

Issac laughs, “No way in hell I’m giving you inside information after the way you got stinky rich off my misery.” He pauses to consider how best to market his drama in a way that creates community interest while leaving him with the ability to get on the wager. “I will tell you this, Gabriella and I are in love and we will survive.”

“Oh, for fucks-sake,” Lenny laughs. “It’s enough we’re betting on your downfall, don’t pissing make it worse by embarrassing yourself with such foolishness. Go get me another Guinness so I can talk some sense into ya.”

“What can I say,” Issac smirks with deceptive charm while pouring a refill, “I am if nothing else, a hopeless romantic.”

“I definitely am gonna want a piece of this action.” Lenny states after taking the pint’s first swig and wiping foam from his lips. He laughs while considering the wager parameters; if there’s one thing he learned from Darwin after the Shovelhead Harley incident it’s that wagering an Olinski requires careful consideration of all contingencies. “How we gonna know you tell her truthfully about your situation?”

“Situation,” Issac laughs. “It’s a job, I’m not getting drafted to go kill stinky Russians.”

“Ya might as well be shipping off to war as far as she’ll be concerned. Trust me on this, the reason I’m sitting on this stool instead of at home with some beautiful bride is because I know about such things. So, back to my question; how we gonna know you truthfully tell her?”

“Okay,” Issac grins, “I yield to your obvious expertise.” He takes a moment to consider parameters of a potential wager relative to what’s at stake but gets distracted by the second inning ending, which causes customers to immediately line up for refills with eager impatence. “I’ll tell you what,” he says over his shoulder between pours, “if I can get in on the action, I’ll call Gabriella down here right now and give her the exciting news in front of the entire bar.” He delivers three pints to a guy wearing a pocket Tshirt with the logo ‘Ralph’s Pretty Good Plumbing, We Can Fix Your Shit.’ He gives the plumber a thumbs up on the logo and goes back to filling more pints. Again, he talks to Lenny while working. “After she gets the news, I’ll promise not to have any contact with her until after Tuesday; no text, no talk, no messaging, and no third-party intermediaries until just before deadline, then her and I will meet to see where things stand.”

Lenny jumps up. “Save my seat, I’m gonna talk this over with Murphy but beware, if he gives the okay, the whole damn bar’s gonna want in on it.”

Issac motions Lenny along, “Sally forth young troubadour and set the conditions for our tournament as I ready my phone to lay down the opening gauntlet.”

Lenny looks oddly back at Issac as he picks his way through the packed bar to engage Murphy. Issac immediately shifts focus to his customers; now that tips are on the table, he works extra hard to charm his way through the backlog of thirsty Cub optimists. It takes until midway through the fifth inning before the growing circle of dedicated enthusiasts around Murphy work through the details of the latest Northshore wager. Once done, word quickly spreads, as early book opens, leaving the most seasoned betters to wait for Issac’s impending reveal before finalizing their wagers.

It’s the top of the seventh with the Cubs up two runs and their starter still on the mound when Gabriella arrives. Per agreed-to wager rules, Issac’s only been allowed thus far to tell Gabriella he has exciting news he wants to share. Another overarching rule is that Issac will be allowed to bet but has to place it in a sealed envelope in Murphy’s safe so no one can know his wager. A third stipulation agreed to in the earlier huddle is that Issac must deliver the news to Gabriella in front of Murphy so he can validate everything’s on the up and up, in addition, the news needs to cover both his job and financial situations.

By now the usual intra-game wagers have been subsumed by the only bet that matters in the moment, which is what Gabriella’s reaction is going to be when she gets Issac’s devastating news. The odds-on favorite is she’ll immediately storm out in a rage. Medium money has her slapping Issac in the face before storming out and long-shot odds have her being happy for Issac and giving him a hug before leaving to plan their after-work celebration. So far, only Lenny’s taken the long-shot bet and he only does that because he just won a shit-ton of money off her contributing to Issac’s demise so he can afford to be reckless.

A never-before-heard hush descends on Murphy’s Northshore Bar as Gabriella stands in the entryway sporting a look that eloquently states ‘anywhere but here.’ In a biblical parting of the seas, a pathway pries open through the packed crowd of blue-collar Cub fans allowing Gabriella to make her unfettered way from the front door to the end of the bar where Issac waits with Murphy. Gabriella’s certainly no rocket scientist, but it doesn’t take one to know something’s not copasetic. Issac smiles warmly as Gabriella hesitantly approaches, taking both her hands in his and lightly kissing her on the check; all of which is allowed according to the ad hoc rules of the reaction-wager.

From the moment Gabriella enters the bar until Issac kisses her on the check, every movement causes one bet to end and another to start, and so far, she’s keeping to the odds-on script. Like mice at a Sunday sermon, no one utters a sound as the biggest drama in Murphy history since Lenny lost his prized Shovelhead to Darwin in that silly Sammy Sosa bet is about to go down. According to the rules of the reaction-wager, Issac must enthusiastically present his news and equally important, Murphy has to play his role well; the only problem is that no one has the stones to tell Murphy what that means, so there’s actually now a wager about whether Murphy will step into his role or just be grumpy old Murphy. The only one taking the long-shot wager that he’ll step into his role is Lenny and again, only because he has a shit-ton of money to wager recklessly.

No one is going to accurately remember but according to the legend that’ll likely grow out of the next few moments, even the Cubs over at Wriggly pause to witness what’s about to transpire. “Hey honey,” Issac charismatically says in a voice spilling with enthusiasm, “thanks for coming down so quickly, I have great news and just had to share it with you.” He lets go of one hand to motion toward Murphy, “I don’t know that I’ve ever introduced you to Murphy, but this here is his bar. Murphy, may I proudly present the lovely Gabriella Cummings from the Gold Coast District. Gabriella, this is Murphy.”

According to the rules of the demeanor-wager, Murphy will either be elegantly charming or his usual grumpy self. Evidence of charm is his not using any Irish slang or accent, but again, only Lenny has this long-shot wager, so most expect Murphy to be plain old Murphy. However, what the gamblers don’t know is that Murphy took the under in the Gabriella breakup-bet, so he has a vested interest in his behavior. “Miss Cummings,” Murphy says while gallantly taking her hand to kiss it. “Issac has told me so much about you, it is indeed an honor to finally meet.”

The stunned crowd of Cubs blue-collar faithful who have so confidently wagered now understand the odds on the Gabriella breakup-bet have shifted, which leads to a massive wave of re-betting to cover past mistakes. “And,” Murphy adds with continued charm, “I am so glad to be welcoming Issac to my family.”

Gabriella is of course cordial, that is after all how Gold Coast girls are raised, but after introductions are over, she turns to Issac in bewilderment. “I think,” she calmly says as her delay causes the bar’s drama index to escalate, “you should tell me why I’m here.”

“Certainly honey,” Issac says maintaining his previous level of enthusiasm. “Murphy here, has just offered me a full-time position that I have accepted. Isn’t it wonderful!”

With thousands of dollars about to exchange hands based on Gabriella’s reaction, the drama meter is pegged out as everyone waits to witness their wagered conclusion. When Gabriella, probably due to shock, doesn’t immediately react, Murphy decides to stoke the fires. “Indeed Miss Cunningham,” he conveys in genteel sophistication, Issac will be assisting me behind the bar for all the Cubs games and in the off season, depending on how the Bears, Bulls and Blackhawks do, he’ll either bar tend or we’ll find him work in the kitchen.”

A dispute ensues that wages for days as to whether Murphy’s comment about Issac being relegated to the kitchen was a penalty; consensus sentiment is that either way, he shouldn’t have said it but it really doesn’t matter because Gabriella’s too stunned at the news the man she’s dating, the man she wants to run off to Paris with, is a fry cook. Her reaction, the one no one bet on, is frozen silence; she stands in front of Issac and Murphy like a statue, not moving, not talking, and most of the spectators in the crowded bar are certain, not even blinking. Finally, after what seems like forever, Gabriella pushes past her shock. “I don’t understand,” she softly says looking at Issac in bewildered confusion.

“That I have a job?” he asks.

“No,” Gabriella says as much to herself as to her boyfriend, “I don’t understand why you’d want a job.”

“I like working here,” he says with unrequited certainty. “There’s always something going on.” Quietly a soft but solid affirmation echoes through the room as everyone concurs.

From Murphy’s perspective, it doesn’t seem Issac’s stepping up to fulfill his obligation, so he decides he must do the heavy lifting. “You have to tell her,” he tells Issac.

“Tell me what?” Gabriella asks.

“The job’s only until I figure things out.” Issac deflects, torn between the rules of the wager and minimizing the heartless trauma he’s inflicting.

According to the rules of both the reaction- and over/under-wagers, Issac must tell Gabriella about his financial situation. There’s some disagreement as to the exact words he must use, so that’s why Murphy’s been delegated as the referee. He’s to give Issac free rein to explain his predicament but if at any point Murphy feels Issac isn’t meeting the spirit and intent of his obligations he’s to deliver the fateful news.

“The thing is,” Issac restarts. “It’s recently come to light that my expenses are no longer in sync with my resources and the quickest remedy to realign my circumstances is to get a job. It’s not forever but is for the foreseeable future.”

“What about Paris?” A stunned Gabriella inquires.

“We’ll always have Paris.” Issac says without thinking and as soon as he says it, he remembers it’s a line from some old black and white movie his mom would watch every year with Aunt Gwen, but he can’t remember the name.

“Here’s looking at you kid.” An old man at the bar says as he winks at Gabriella. His equally old buddy on the next bar stool over straight away adds, “Of all the gin joints in all the world she has to come to his to hear his horrible news.”

Issac glares at the two old men as angry about their unsolicited commentary as he is their easy reference to a movie he can’t remember but seems to suddenly recall every line. He once again takes both of Gabriella’s hands and looks deep into her eyes to prepare her for what’s coming. “The thing is,” he struggles to say.

“He’s broke.” Murphy states with the same morbid fluidity he’s used for years to deliver tragic Cubs news to loyal patrons.

Issac sternly turns to his boss, “I had this.”

“Didn’t look that way from the bleachers.” Murphy retorts.

Issac bears down even more resolute. “The deal was I would tell her in my own way.”

“Unless you didn’t and it didn’t look like you did.”

“Wait a minute!” Gabriella interrupts as she bounces her stare between Issac and Murphy. “What the hell do you mean you’re broke.”

“His words not mine.” Issac quickly caveats. He pauses to redirect his charm in a softer tone. “The assertion that I’m broke has been blatantly mis-characterized; I have what accountants call a cash flow crisis that causes me to-.”

“Get a job and work like the rest us.” Murphy again interjects. While none of the observers in the crowded bar who will later be relied on to retell this tale for years to come say anything in the moment, the clinking of beer glasses suggests Murphy not only nailed his delivery but fulfilled his obligation in accordance with preset rules.

“What does that even mean?” Gabriella asks as she withdraws her hands from Issac’s and defiantly folds her arms to contain her growing anger.

“I don’t have an easy answer to that,” Issac attempts to explain, “other than-“

“He ain’t jet-setting to Paris anytime soon,” Murphy once more helps out.

Issac again glares at his bosses holding back as best he can, “seriously.”

“Okay,” Murphy says putting his hands up in surrender, “just trying to help ya out is all.”

Issac returns his attention to Gabriella. “These past few months with you have been wonderful and we certainly did have ourselves a grand old time but apparently there’s a limit to my resources that has been exceeded, so between now and the end of the year, I have to resolve my cash flow crisis by other means.”

“Like getting a job!” Gabriella assertively states.

“Yes,” Issac humbly answers.

“Here, of all places,” she presses.

“Yes,” Issac confesses, looking away to avoid having to face his executioner.

For several tense drama filled moments that seem to capture the collective breath of ever Cubs fan packed into the crowded bar, Gabriella stands in stunned silence processing emotions. Then, like a scene from a forty’s film noir, she turns and gracefully exits, retaining as much dignity as the crisis allows, leaving reaction-wagerers to argue well past the ninth inning as to which side won. Consensus tends to concede that because Murphy’s is a friendly bar, they should call it a draw, however, there’s little doubt that with Murphy’s help Issac did in fact meet his obligations in accordance with the over/under-wager rules. Gabriella’s dramatic departure does, however, cast the entire over/under betting in new light with clearly skewed odds leaning decidedly toward the under; even Lenny who has a shit-ton of money with which to be reckless agrees, Issac’s doomed relationship with Gabriella will be over way before the Tuesday deadline.

Lost in all this intensity is the one thing no one bet on because Murphy wouldn’t allow it, and that’s poor Issac’s reaction to the dramatic churn of events in his otherwise placid life. It’s something every sympathetic Cubs fan packed into Murphy’s Northshore Bar can relate to because they too don’t have somewhere else to be with someone else who matters.