A hot day in the City. Muggy sea air rolls over the high rises and irritates the men clustered around the black behemoth. What floor’s she on? a man in oily coveralls asks. Penthouse, comes the answer. I’ll go get Superman, a leather jacket clad one says. Maybe he can fly it up there for us, and we’ll go find a cold Pepsi. You don’t even like Pepsi, his friend protests. Not as much as I don’t like moving Grand Pianos, leather jacket replies.
A tall and striking woman glides through their collective minds. This is a woman of wealth and class, as well as considerable talent with the ivories. They see her in darkened ballrooms, cavernous concert halls, before men of influence and power. She sits in front of a black monster much the one the men gather around now. They see her fanning herself with a fistful of dollars as she nods them towards the same.
I still say we ought to get a Pepsi, leather jacket grumbles. His friend starts chewing a quid of tobacco, then spits. Move this thing, then we’ll find you that Pepsi, tobacco quid says.
The gang boss pulls on an enormous pair of leather gloves, then nods to oily coveralls. Oily coveralls proceeds to wrap the piano’s four legs with rags and bind them up with twine. Tobacco quid grabs a heavy tarpaulin and throws it over the piano top while leather jacket ties it down.
Gang boss looks up at the building, thinking of the windfall this job would bring. We get this done, he’d told the men, and we’re all eating steak tonight!
The men finish wrapping up the black beast and look to gang boss for direction. Roll it into the lobby boys, and the three men push it into the building while gang boss holds open the door.
The room is huge, with white stone floors and gold leafed ceilings. A crystal chandelier hangs from the peak, and tobacco quid looks longingly at it. Love to have one of those at my place, he says, juice running down his chin.
You there! an outraged voice shrills. No tobacco allowed in the building! A pompous little man in rather large evening wear marches over to the group. If you would, sir, I must ask you to dispose of your quid. And not here! he shouted as tobacco quid nearly spat on the floor. Kindly remove it from your mouth outside, in a proper receptacle.
Tobacco quid walks back outside. No waste basket is in sight, and he is forced to walk across the street to spit his quid into the gutter there. He crosses the street and reenters the hotel, only for the other three men to pass him with the piano. And remember, evening wear calls after them, no tobacco!
What’s eating him? tobacco quid asks. He won’t let us roll the piano across his marble floor, leather jacket huffs. We got to wrap the rollers in canvas. And then we got to carry it! And he wouldn’t let us wrap those rollers in there!
Don’t let it get to you, gang boss says, just remember, we finish this job and we’re eating all eating steak tonight. He crosses his arms and looks wise as the other three struggle with the piano. You could use some bags for that, he interjects, then snorts when oily coveralls asks him to get the bags himself.
Now very hot and irritable, the three men lift the piano and hoist it through the door, which gang boss gallantly holds open. Where’s a good doorman when you need him? leather jacket grumps. Inside the building, the three stagger towards the elevator. Just as gang boss reaches for the call button, evening wear bursts from behind a desk, screaming to wake the dead. No, no, no! he shrieks. This lift is for tenants only! You need to take your freight to the freight elevator!
And where might that be? gang boss inquires. At the rear of the building, of course. Evening wear regards the man with a look normally reserved for small children. Where’s the door? Oily coveralls asks. At the rear of the building of course. Evening wear now regards the lot of them with a look normally reserved for mental incompetents.
The men again emerged into the sunlight. I’m gonna wring that goose’s neck, leather jacket growls, a bead of sweat dripping off his nose. Now, now, gang boss soothes, don’t let him get under your skin. We finish this job, and we’re all having steak for dinner! The three men glare at him. Dry up on the steak, and I’ll let you have mine! leather jacket barks.
I can’t stand this! oily coveralls collapses on the sidewalk. I should’ve worn my Levis instead. Wiping his face on his sleeve, oily coveralls heads back to his apartment. The other two men stare after him. Well how do you like that? leather jacket says loudly. He turns to gang boss. Can I have his steak? Don’t hold a grudge, gang boss says, frowning. Now come on, we need to move this thing.
Still exhorting, gang boss directs his crew of two to lift the piano and remove the coverings from its rollers. That done, the soaking wet men push their black burden down the street and around the corner to the rear of the building. An alleyway appears, choked with packing cartons and wooden pallets. Gang boss surveys the mess, then turns to his men. Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you boys! The men look at each other, then at the rubbish, then at gang boss. They get to work.
Now, covered in dust and stray bits of cardboard, they again pick up the piano to lift in through the path they’ve made. Stepping over stray wooden planks and odd boxes, they make their way to the rear entrance where gang boss obligingly holds the door open.
It won’t fit, leather jacket protests! looking at the hallway and then at the piano. It will if you carry it on its side, gang boss replies.
Stumbling, the men lift the black dead weight on its edge and advance into the hallway. Watch out for the lamps! gang boss exclaimed as tobacco quid knocked into one. At the end of the hallway a maid stood by the elevator, her face blank as she stared at the advancing mass. Hold the door, will you! leather jacket calls. The big lift doors opened just as the crew arrives.
The maid pushes her cart into the elevator, followed by the piano. Tobacco quid squints at the button panel. There isn’t a penthouse button, he said. Don’t worry, it’ll be the one at the top, gang boss says confidently. At that moment the door leading out to the alley opens to reveal oily coveralls, dressed in his Levis and shirtsleeves. The elevator doors close on him sprinting down the hallway.
The lift is slow, and leather jacket wipes the sweat off his forehead, then looks at the maid. Couldn’t this trap move any faster? he asks. The maid opens her mouth, but gang boss intervenes. Forget about it! Remember, we finish this job, we’re all having steak for dinner! Leather jacket cracks his knuckles.
At length the lift reaches their floor, and the doors open to reveal oily coveralls, winded and perspiring. How’d you get up here? leather jacket exclaims. Took the fire escape pants oily coveralls. Need a quid of tobacco. Tobacco quid obliges, and oily coveralls chews with gusto.
Gang boss surveys the hallway they’ve entered as the reunited threesome moves the piano out of the lift. Excuse me miss, but could you tell me how to get up to the penthouse? he inquires of the maid. Oh you can’t reach it from this elevator, she replies. You’d have to use the front lift. So saying she walks off with her cart.
The three men stare after her. Gang boss smiles. Don’t worry boys, we finish this job—
THAT’S IT! leather jacket bellows. He points at gang boss. You take this load and I’ll find us a way out of here! Gang boss laughs, sees the looks on the other’s faces, then takes his place by the piano.
Leather jacket runs down the hall after the maid, then returns. We take the lift down to the second floor, he growls, we can carry this around the front elevator. The four move the piano back into the lift and oily coveralls hits pushes the second floor button.
Pushing the piano through the second floor, the crew encounters no resistance. The rollers sank in the soft carpet, and tobacco quid noticed black streaks being left behind. He points this out to leather jacket. Check the rollers, leather jacket instructs. The men look the rollers over, and gang boss finds a lump of grease on his. Found it, he says, wiping the grease off on his coveralls. The group proceeds to the front elevator.
Pressing the call button, the doors open to reveal a fashionable couple already in the car. This car’s already occupied, thank you, the woman says, turning up her nose. The man grins and stammers something. I wasn’t going to ask, leather jacket says, but since you’ve been so polite, why don’t leave us the car? Looking at the rough crew and their mysterious freight, the man nods eagerly and drags the protesting woman out of the elevator.
Loading the piano into the elevator, leather jacket locates and presses the penthouse button. See, he says, pointing to the button, it’s labeled ‘penthouse.’
This lift was much faster than the freight elevator. The doors open, and the men drag their load to their destination. Leather jacket knocks on the door, waits. The others stand very still. Nothing happens. Leather jacket knocks again, harder this time. Still nothing. Maybe she’s out? tobacco quid ventures. Leather jacket looks out a window, then strips off his jacket. Here, he says, handing it to tobacco quid. He then yanks the window open and steps onto the ledge outside.
The other three cluster around the window to watch leather jacket’s progress. First he nearly stumbles on the ledge. Then a bird lands on his shoulder and begins pecking at his head. Arms flailing, he manages to dislodge it before he disappears around the corner of the building. The three wait, waiting for a scream to break the silence. Instead they hear a door open. Leather jacket steps out into the hallway, face expressionless. The door was unlocked, he comments.
The penthouse is predictably roomy. A large space by a now open window beckons, and oily coveralls looks for a place to throw the leather jacket. Seeing none, he puts it on and helps push the piano into the apartment.
Just as the last of the wrappings come off, a tall and elegant woman walks through the door. Excellent, she cries, waving her hand. It is beautiful! She walks over to it, then frowns. Dear me, I forgot to order a bench. Leather jacket looks at tobacco quid, then back at the lady. We can do that, as long as they let us come through the front this time.
Oh, did you have to come through the back? All you had to do was show my receipt and you would have been allowed. The three men wheel on gang boss, who shies away. I lost it, he trails off, didn’t want to cause any trouble. Anyway, the woman continues, here’s your money. Should be good for a few steaks at least! At least, gang boss mumbles. Leather jacket glares.
In the lobby, the gang stands by the front door, admiring the sight of the steakhouse across the street. Leather jacket fiddles with the lid on the Pepsi tobacco quid bought him. Gang boss, good humor restored, reminisces about what a good job they did. Evening jacket sees them and stalks across the room just as leather jacket pops the lid on his Pepsi and takes a swig. Evening jacket arrives in time for leather jacket to spew the drink in his face. I declare! the soda soaked man sputters. Leather jacket wipes his mouth and grins. I hate Pepsi!
