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Hook, Line, & Sinker
(AKA Prologue for Lawyer Pants)
With heads hung low and brows furrowed, Station 51’s A shift paramedics Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto shuffled sullenly out the station’s back door, heading to their respective cars. The gloominess of the dreary winter morning felt like an appropriate reflection of their mood – a proverbial grey cloud over their heads at the predicament they found themselves in; one that required the services of a lawyer, no less.
The secretary at the Law Offices of Barnard Olson of Beverly Hills, informed the men that Mr. Olson was willing to talk with them briefly to determine if he could help them with their legal troubles. At Barney’s direction, she had found a small opening in Barney’s schedule and informed the two paramedics that she would squeeze them in the following day.
Having never been forced to employ the services of an attorney, neither man knew what to expect. The anticipation of the impending meeting caused a feeling of dread and nervousness in each of the men.
“That secretary sounded pretty,” Johnny said, flashing a dim version of his lopsided grin after they had ended their phone call to Barney Olson’s office.
Roy’s head jerked up with raised eyebrows as he glared in disbelief at his young partner. Before he could chastise his skirt-chasing partner about the seriousness of their situation, he schooled his features when he noticed the lack of the familiar twinkle normally in Johnny’s eye at the thought of an encounter with the fairer sex. Roy quickly realized that Johnny was simply redirecting his focus, albeit briefly, to a more pleasant scenario. No retort was necessary – he would cut his partner some slack this time.
“Hey, Johnny,” Roy called to his partner as they both reached for their respective car doors, “why don’t you come on over to the house for breakfast?”
With his hand on the door to his Land Rover, Johnny turned to Roy’s invitation. Roy noted the other man’s uncharacteristic hesitation to accept the invitation, even though joining the DeSoto family for breakfast wasn’t a rare occurrence. Roy sensed Johnny’s reluctance, so he added, “Joanne’s making French Toast and bacon today,” and waited for his friend’s predictable acquiescence.
With a nod of his shaggy dark head and a mumbled “okay” Johnny climbed into his Rover and closed the door.
Roy nodded his head silently, a small sense of victory in convincing Johnny to join his family for a hearty breakfast. Roy knew that Johnny would fixate on the upcoming meeting with Barney, left to his own devices, so distracting him with quality family time with the DeSoto clan could only help to bolster his sullen mood. He dropped into his Porsche, started the engine and headed home with Johnny right behind him.
At the DeSoto house, breakfast was ending and Joanne was hurrying her two children to grab their bookbags and get to the bus stop for school. The discussion around the breakfast table was kept light as the children didn’t need to know about the predicament their father and their honorary uncle were facing.
Once the kids were gone from the kitchen Roy and Johnny briefly discussed the logistics of getting to the upcoming appointment with Barney Olson in Beverly Hills the following day. There was really nothing else to say about the matter until after they talked with Barney. They hoped that him being a former LA Country Fireman would mean he’d lend them not only a sympathetic ear, but also offer useful legal advice.
Neither man said it, but separately they both wondered what Barney’s services would cost.
“Oh, no,” Johnny exclaimed dramatically, “my only pair of good pants are at the cleaners and won’t be ready in time.” With a heavy sigh, he rested his head in his hands.
Johnny’s one and only pair of dress slacks were at the dry cleaners due to a red wine stain acquired during his most recent dinner date. He was pretty sure his dinner date Marjie, a new ER nurse, had intentionally spilled the wine on his lap when she allowed her attention to be drawn to a young doctor dining at the same restaurant.
Joanne had returned to the kitchen just in time to hear Johnny’s declaration at needing a new pair of slacks. Roy had already recounted to her Johnny’s latest date implosion, so she knew better than to ask about the circumstances.
“Johnny, there’s a terrific men’s clothing store over on Melrose where you could get a pair of slacks for a reasonable price,” Joann offered. “I haven’t had a chance to go there for Roy, yet, but the next time he needs something, I heard they’re the place to go.”
She quickly pulled out the Yellow Pages and thumbed through to find the ad for the store.
“Here it is!” Joanne said as she presented the thick Yellow Pages book to Johnny, pointing to the listing.
“The Stylish Gentleman?” Johnny exclaimed in disbelief. “Roy’s not a stylish gentleman! What could they possibly have in that store that Roy would wear?” He winked at Joanne as he awaited Roy’s mock indignation.
Roy didn’t disappoint. “I’ll have you know that my wife thinks I’m both!”
With a twinkle in his eye, Johnny’s hand splayed across his chest. “Well Pally, I’m sure that’s true, but some of us are still playing the field and need to look our best. I better go and check this place out. I’ll let you know if it looks like your kind of place.”
Roy shook his head with a smile and was glad for the light-hearted direction their conversation had taken. Anything to keep Johnny from brooding over the need for their upcoming meeting with Barney Olson.
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At The Stylish Gentleman , a Melrose Avenue aspiring fashionable men’s store, Linda and Sandy, two young salesclerks, stood in the stockroom ogling a pair of patchwork pants that had arrived in a recent shipment.
“Those are atrocious!” Linda exclaimed, “what in the world was the manager thinking by ordering them?”
“I don’t even think Robert Redford could make those look good, and he could make a potato sack look sexy!” Sandy responded. She held up the multicolored pants of blue, tan, brown and several other indistinguishable colors with a sneer of disdain.
The store manager, Mr. Smithe (the overly pretentious man added the “e” on the end because he thought it added an air of sophistication to his name) entered the stockroom to see the girls giggling over the pants.
“Ladies, what is going on back here?” he scolded the two young women.
He quickly saw the object of their attention and immediately grabbed a pair of the pants from the box with obvious disdain.
“Oh, dear,” he whined, “I don’t know what that manufacturer was thinking when they sent us these dreadful slacks!”
“We were just noticing how awful they are,” Linda piped in. Sandy nodded her head silently.
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now,” Mr. Smithe bemoaned. “We’re just going to have to sell them somehow. Although I can’t for the life of me imagine who would have so little fashion sense as to don such an abomination.”
The girls were certain Mr. Smithe would, at any moment, whisk the kerchief from his breast pocket with a flourish and dab his brow in a show of distress.
It was then that an idea came to Mr. Smithe.
“Ladies, I have an idea that will help us get rid of this ghastly excuse for fashion! We’ll have a contest among all the salesclerks here at The Stylish Gentleman to see who can sell them!”
Upon realizing he had their rapt attention, he continued. “The first person who sells a pair will get a cash prize.”
“How much is the prize?” Linda asked.
“Those pants are pretty awful,” Sandy reminded him. “Make the prize $25 and you’ve got yourself a deal!”
While he hoped they would get rid of the pants quickly, he felt confident that no one would want them.
“We’ve had a very good year at the store this year, so I think I can afford to up the award,” Smithe added. “Besides, the faster we get these atrocities out of the store, the better we protect our reputation as THE premiere store where all the well-dressed gentlemen in Los Angeles shop.”
Mr. Smithe sighed dramatically and with one hand on his hip he ceded. “Fine, $25 it is.”
“With all that is holy, please let those pants be gone before the Spring line arrives,” he muttered as he left the storeroom.
As soon as he was gone, the girls turned their attention back to the patchwork pants.
“I sure could use an extra $25,” Sandy said. “I saw the cutest pair of platform shoes in the window at Thom McAn that I’ve had my eye on.”
“I have no doubt you’ll win,” Linda bemoaned. “You could sell ice cubes to an Eskimo!”
“And remember that guy who came in just to buy a tie and you sold him two suits, four shirts, three belts and a pair of shoes?” Linda pointed out.
A small smile appeared on Sandy’s face as she remembered how the man was practically putty in her hand when she turned on the charm and shamelessly flirted with the middle-aged man. Feeling emboldened by the memory, she grinned widely at Linda.
“Those shoes are as good as mine,” she said confidently.
The two girls resumed unpacking a variety of sizes of patchwork pants, putting them on hangars and placing them on a rack in the middle of the store. Each time a customer entered the store and indicated the need for a pair of slacks, whichever girl was helping them would be sure to present the pants as an option to consider.
Days went by without a single sign of interest in the hideous pants, but the girls would not be deterred.
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Johnny sighed heavily as he pulled his Land Rover into a parking spot right in front of The Stylish Gentleman. His only hope, find a simple pair of dress slacks – black, blue, grey, brown or tan, he didn’t care. He hated shopping, especially for clothes, so his demeanor at being forced to shop for new slacks was dour, at best. Not to mention the reason behind the need to buy new pants only added to his foul mood. He hoped he could just get in, find a reasonably priced pair in his size and get out. The faster, the better.
He entered the store, taking his sunglasses off and perching them atop his head and briefly waited for his eyes to adjust to the indoor lighting.
The tinkling of the bell at the front door alerted Sandy that another customer had entered the store providing her with another opportunity to win the prize from Mr. Smithe. Her eyes fixed on the young dark-haired man stepping through the door and she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was.
“Flirting with him won’t be hard at all,” she thought to herself. She discreetly unbuttoned the top button on her blouse, adjusting it to reveal her cleavage, and headed toward the tall dark-haired man as he assessed the layout of the store.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Sandy said as she smiled sweetly as she approached the handsome man. “How can I help you today?”
Johnny turned toward the voice, and a crooked smile appeared on his face as he watched the attractive blonde young woman walk toward him.
It was almost like he couldn’t help himself, as the Gage charm seemed to gush forth.
His dour mood instantly forgotten, he made eye contact with the young woman standing in front of him.
“I need to buy some slacks for an important meeting,” Johnny explained. He had no intention of providing further details about what kind of meeting and hoped that his cryptic description would impress the pretty salesclerk.
“An important meeting, huh?” Sandy repeated. “Well, I’m sure I can fix you right up for that. Do you have a particular style or color in mind?
Johnny found himself staring into her turquoise-colored eyes and didn’t realize she had spoken to him.
Noticing the silence, he snapped back to attention with a slightly embarrassed “huh?”
Sandy repeated the question.
“Oh, well, uh, I guess show me what you’ve got, and we’ll go from there,” he said with his best crooked smile. He suddenly didn’t mind this previously disdained errand and decided that if it took a while to find just the right pair of slacks, then so be it.
Sandy guided Johnny to the first of several racks of a variety of dress slacks – pleated, cuffed, flat front, with and without belt loops, striped, solid, two-tone, corduroy, gabardine, polyester, cotton, linen, wool. A small feeling of panic arose when he suddenly realized he had not been aware there were so many options. Regardless of the pretty girl helping him, this was still a task he hated, but in deference to the attractive young woman, he would muddle through it.
“You’re about what, a 32-34?” Sandy asked.
Johnny smiled widely, impressed the young woman so accurately guessed his pants size. Ironically, she had indeed sized him up, but not in the way he would have hoped.
“We’ve got some Pierre Cardin over here and some Halston over here,” she swept her hand across the round racks. “They’re what all the stylish gentlemen are wearing,” Sandy told him while subtly batting her eyes. It was a requirement by Mr. Smithe that all the sales clerks use the phrase “stylish gentleman” in their sales pitch. She noticed he perked up at the movement and realized he would be easy to sway if she gradually stepped up her flirting.
“Yeah?” Johnny said as he thumbed through the rack.
“How about I start a fitting room for you?” she said as she quickly flipped through the rack and found a few different pairs of slacks in his size. She turned and walked toward the back of the store where the fitting rooms were located. He watched as she sauntered away, appreciating the swivel to her hips.
Sandy could feel his eyes following her and made sure she put a little something extra in her movement. She had a feeling this was going to be too easy.
She quickly returned, offering him another doe-eyed glance before gently taking his arm and moving him to another round rack with more slacks. She had to admit that while Johnny’s awkward flirting was less-than-subtle, it was a little bit endearing. He was trying so hard, she thought to herself. Alas, it was all for naught, as she had been seeing her boyfriend Greg for almost a year now.
Before long, Sandy led Johnny to the dressing room in which she had hung multiple pairs of slacks for him to try on. She continued to flirt with him, batting her eyelashes and touching his arm or chest for emphasis, all the while turning on the charm to indicate in no uncertain terms, that she was interested in getting to know him better outside the store.
Johnny was not at all thrilled at the idea of trying on the pants she had brought for him, but since she stood just outside the dressing room and continued to flirt, he couldn’t seem to find the right opportunity to end the situation.
Sandy decided it was time to set the bait on the proverbial hook.
“Mr.?” Sandy let the question hand in the air awaiting him to provide his name.
“Gage. John Gage, but my friends call me Johnny.” He popped his head over the top of the curtain to look at her with his best crooked smile.
“Oh, well, Johnny, I wasn’t sure you were the right person for this new line of slacks we just got in from Paris, but, after talking with you, and realizing how clever you are and how important well-fitting clothes are to you, I think I should show them to you.”
His head popped over the top of the curtain, again.
“Yeah?” He failed miserably at trying to play it cool.
“You’re so handsome and they would look so groovy on you. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t,” she hesitated. “I mean, they’re not for just anyone.”
“Well, I’m not just anyone,” he seemed affronted, as she expected. Something about his bravado felt hesitant to Sandy, like he didn’t quite believe what he was saying. He exited the dressing room wearing a pair of perfectly nice-fitting navy blue flat front slacks. Had it not been for Mr. Smithe’s bet, these pants would have been an excellent choice for the handsome man. She smiled at him as her eyes moved appreciatively over him.
“The slacks I’m thinking about are all the rage and were recently featured on the fashion runways in Paris. It takes a very confident man, who knows himself and what looks good on his body, to wear them.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Sandy leaned in closely to Johnny as she lowered her voice. “But Burt Reynolds came in here the other day and bought a pair. He said he’s going to wear them to the big Hollywood premiere of his next movie. He actually bought every pair we had just to make sure no one else would have a pair”
“Yeah? Burt Reynolds is incredible!” Johnny’s interest was again piqued.
Sandy only nodded, pretending she was letting him in on a big secret.
“You can’t tell anyone I told you. Some of these big movie stars expect complete discretion when they shop here so they can make a big splash when they’re at a big Hollywood function and no one will upstage them.
Johnny furrowed his brow as he nodded, letting her know he could be trusted to keep the secret.
“Well, Burt Reynolds and I don’t run in the same circles, so it’s probably a good bet that I wouldn’t upstage him if I wore them, too.” Johnny reasoned.
“But you said he bought all the pants you had…” Johnny remembered disappointedly as his lips dropped into a frown.
Again, Sandy leaned in and said in a conspiratorial tone, “There was one pair that wasn’t on the rack when Mr. Reynolds came in. I think it’s your size but let me go check.”
She could see the hopefulness in his eyes. She smiled demurely as she realized she was about to reel in her “fish”. These pants were as good as sold. Sandy quickly turned away to go get the size 32-34 patchwork pants.
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A knock at the DeSoto’s front door heralded John’s arrival to pick up Roy for their appointment with Barney Olson.
Roy sat at the kitchen table finishing his breakfast as Joanne went to the front door to let Johnny in (although, since he was practically a member of the family, she wondered why he still waited for someone to let him in.)
Roy sipped the remnants of his coffee as he heard the voices of his wife and his partner grow louder as they approached the kitchen.
“Roy, Johnny’s here,” Joanne announced as she entered the kitchen in front of the younger man. Something about the oddness of her voice caught Roy’s attention and drew his eyes to her.
Just as he looked up Johnny entered the kitchen and Roy sprayed out his coffee at the sight before him.
Quickly recovering from his outburst and hoping an explanation wasn’t needed, Roy quickly grabbed his napkin to wipe up the coffee he had just spit out.
A concerned look appeared on Johnny’s face at Roy’s inexplicable behavior.
“I see you were able to find some new slacks,” was all Roy could manage to say as he attempted to school his features.
“Yeah,” Johnny replied proudly. “This cute chick down at the men’s store helped me find these. Sandy said all the big movie stars are wearing them. They’re great, dontcha think?”
Roy immediately recognized how Johnny came to be the owner of these pants by his use of an unknown woman’s name and the words “cute chick.”
“They’re really something,” Roy responded, trying hard to not say anything derogatory that would hurt his sometimes overly sensitive partner’s feelings.
Johnny’s brows furrowed momentarily, trying to decide if his pants had been disparaged. Immediately letting the thought go, he nervously looked down at his slacks, straightening the pants over his slim hips then looked up proudly, not picking up on the double meaning of Roy’s innocuous comment.
Joanne had slyly turned her back to the two men to avoid being included in the conversation about the pants. Roy had a sneaking suspicion that she was also trying not to openly react to Johnny’s questionable fashion choice.
Joanne grabbed a clean coffee cup and made quick work of pouring the dark aromatic brew for Johnny. She was so glad that Chris and Jenny had already left for school before Johnny arrived as she was certain one, if not both, of them would make a blunt comment about the pants as only children can.
Handing the cup to him as he sat down, she smiled warmly. She knew both men were very nervous about their meeting with Barney Olson this morning and she didn’t want to say or do anything to add to the tension.
Johnny took a sip of the coffee then proudly offered, “We’re going out on Saturday night.”
At Roy’s raised eyebrows at the non-sequitur, Johnny answered the implied question, “Sandy, from the clothing store.” He waggled his eyebrows as he recalled how she had flirted with him and slipped him her phone number as he completed his purchase. Johnny nonchalantly reached over to Roy’s breakfast plate and grabbed the remaining piece of bacon, smoothly popping it in his mouth.
Roy rolled his eyes at his partner and stood up from the table to take his breakfast dishes to the sink.
Roy didn’t have the heart to offer his theory that” Sandy the salesclerk” saw him coming when she sold him those hideous pants. Or his doubt that the phone number she gave him was, in fact, her number or even a working phone number at all. The pleased smile on Johnny’s face was the first one he’d seen in a while since this whole ordeal started, and he was loathe to be the one to ruin Johnny’s temporary good mood. He convinced himself he would find an appropriate time later to save Johnny from his misguided fashion choice and gently inform his best friend that those pants had to go. But for now, they seemed to give Johnny a sense of confidence.
“Let’s get going,” Roy said to his partner as he glanced at his watch.
Johnny finished the last of his coffee and rose from the table. Joanne reached out to take the coffee cup from his hands, trying hard not to be distracted by the pants.
“Good luck, boys,” Joanne said as she followed them out of the kitchen toward the front door.
“Thanks, Jo,” Johnny said as he turned to give Joanne a brief kiss on her cheek, then headed out the door. Roy kissed her on the lips that he held for a moment longer than normal, then winked at her in unspoken gratitude for her discretion in not calling attention to Johnny’s pants.
As Roy closed the front door to the DeSoto house behind him, he could hear Joanne’s outburst of laughter that he was sure she’d been tamping down since the minute Johnny had entered the house that morning. Thankfully Johnny was already opening the door to his Rover and couldn’t hear the laughter coming from inside the house.
Roy smiled to himself as he walked to the passenger side door of the Rover and got in. Once seated inside, Johnny looked over at him earnestly and said, “Here goes nothing.”
The End