Michael T. Fournier

Hidden Wheel


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the first day all year I left home without bringing a jacket or sweatshirt for later the fog lifted made it cold clear sunny wearing my orange reflector vest over a grey buttondown fluorescent yellow strips over my jeans. Since it was getting nice people thought biker which never happened in the winter. So I had to follow the guy. Blogging was important daily bread all that but being outside in the nice weather was good girls wearing shorts and haltertops walking down the sidewalk I would’ve missed some of them if I was still in the coffeehouse staring at a screen. The guy walking away me following him rod bobbing with each step checking out ladies.

      The sidewalk was full of people more than usual it was so nice out faster to walk on the street. I sidewalked between two bumpers out to the road cars looked like they’d hit me I didn’t think they would hoped not I had to pay attention to the people walking to see where he went. I jogged and jogged people must’ve thought I was a jogger at first but I was wearing jeans and a button-up I’d have to be a fucking stupid jogger to jog like that especially on a nice day. I passed parked cars one guy driving by honked his SUV at me normally I’d be like fuck off asshole but I was still looking at the sidewalk and jogged and jogged.

      And there he was.

      I stopped sweat on my back. I shinned between two parked cars like a hundred feet behind the guy again. I thought maybe he’d take either a left or a right onto Webster which might mean not the river terrible but maybe just a burrito or something I decided to follow him even if he did take a left or a right just to make sure. He didn’t he stopped at the intersection pushed the walk signal button he crossed the street which I thought meant the river I hoped so I wondered where to get a vest and a hat like his. I hung back got a free weekly from the red paperbox chained to a lamppost flipped through didn’t read a word waited for the little white man to light up he did. He crossed the street I did too.

      Another block down to the river. The reflectors were for the winter before that it was Velcro but everyone jumped that train they always do with me pants with Velcro flies Velcro shirts especially Velcro shoes went up so much that it priced me out besides, I was there first anyway. Everyone knew it. Everyone knew I was first in Velcro. The reflectors weren’t as good but I needed something else while I was waiting for inspiration to strike. Perfect in a way because the whole thing is accessories with the right hat box vest rod especially anything in the closet worked no overhaul except for ads shirts with ducks on them shit like that. Shorts okay for hot weather and then for the winter pants I wondered about the winter though because if there were all those things on the vest what are they called I can’t remember the hooks might catch the inside of my jacket and tear it all up so I thought I’m going to need two vests summer and winter or move those things lures! lures to my hat. The white man lit when he got to the next intersection and he crossed I waited until it started blinking red before I crossed I didn’t want to get too close then I crossed on the riverwalk really nice the grass mowed I smelled it he walked along the river me behind him. Joggers jogged by I like sportsbras a few gave me strange looks hopefully because I was reflecting not jogging.

      He sat down next to a tree and put his rod down on the ground and opened his box and took out something I couldn’t see because I was too far away put something on a hook probably worms or bugs I haven’t fished since I was like eight cast into the river I was so happy he was fishing not just dressing like going fishing it meant I’d be the first guy to get that look and everyone would say Max has done it again. People forget I was first. I was the first fisherman I had it way before any of those other guys stole it from my shoot.

      * * *

      Ben thought JR’s—thirty years of hamburger patties, cigarette burns on the wall carpeting, poles obstructing sight lines—was better suited to be a venue than The Kensington’s tiny basement, with its pitiful (though box-fresh) PA system and newly paneled walls. Dingier was better, but neither place worked well.

      The other option was the Dingo. It had the same gritty authenticity as JR’s, minus the hamburger smell. None of the bar’s patrons—a mix of artists and workers from the remaining mills—could remember the side room ever being used to put on shows.

      Establishing that credential would matter in both the short- and long-term.

      * * *

      Lewis Brinkman: Rhonda was a special case, obviously.

      Luna Vallejo: I played at that coffeehouse for years. Never before did I see Brinkman take such an interest in a child. She spent almost no time with me.

      Sven Gunsen: Brinkman was very by-the-book. Which is why we were surprised when he started playing with her.

      Ralph O’Keefe: I played them all first, usually. What a pervert.

      Lou Schwartz: Would a father knowingly put his daughter in a potentially harmful situation? I don’t think so. But look how she turned out.

      Lewis Brinkman: I watched her play O’Keefe and Schwartz with great interest. Some of the moves she made early established her endgame. A fascinating mind.

      Lou Schwartz: She beat me the first time we played. Then I slowed it down, like O’Keefe did, and beat her.

      Luna Vallejo: She didn’t realize that her play had a predictable pattern. I could’ve told her.

      Lewis Brinkman: I began to play her every week.

      Ralph O’Keefe: The way he looked at her. Jeez.

      Lou Schwartz: I never saw it before, the fast track like that. Even Brinkman had to work his way up.

      Luna Vallejo: Brinkman had been there since I started playing. There used to be a Japanese man before him, a retired conductor. I never met him, or played with him. Brinkman probably learned a lot from him.

      Sven Gunsen: Brinkman told me he had taken the place of Takahashi. A composer.

      Lou Schwartz: (Brinkman) was always interested in the ways people saw the board. O’Keefe couldn’t really see. He had a mathematical perspective. And me, I could only see a few moves ahead at a time. That’s probably why everyone thinks she was so special. She had sight.

      Lewis Brinkman: Her endgame moves were sophisticated and far-spanning.

      Stan Barrett: She told me she could see the now and the later.

      Lewis Brinkman: It became obvious to me, as we played, that the depth and breadth of her vision had world-class potential.

      Stan Barrett: This was