The next evening found Gary trying not to create too much noise as he followed the garrulous old man who had admitted him to the Chicago Studio City complex.  The uniformed guard had taken one look at him and stepped out of the way without even asking for his pass.

“You’re here even earlier than usual,” the security guard was saying as he led Gary into the converted warehouse.  “They must’ve given you a bigger scene this week.”

“Ex-excuse me?” Gary stammered.  “I think you must have me confused . . .”

“That’s okay, sir,” the guard assured him with a sly wink.  “If anyone asks, I haven’t seen you since last evening’s rehearsal.  It’s none of my business who you rehearse with.  Too bad about this bein’ the last episode an’ all.  I’m gonna miss all the action and seein‘ all o’ you guys.   What happened to your face, if you don‘t mind my asking?  Never mind.  It‘s none of my business.  Just hope make-up will cover it.”  He stopped in front of a door with the name ‘Chandler’ stenciled across the top half.  The guard unlocked the door and gave it a gentle push.  “There you go, sir.  I’ll let you know when the others get here.”

“Th-thank you,” Gary replied, “but there must be . . .”

“Oh, it’s no problem, sir,” the anonymous man grinned.  “Would you like some coffee or something?”

“N-no, that’s okay,” the young bartender replied nervously.  “I’ll be fine.”  He slid into the room through the half open door, giving the guard a half-hearted smile and a nod, before pushing it closed.

“Nice of you to join us, cuz.”

Gary spun around, clutching at his chest as he did.  “Christ, Buddy!” he said in a whispered gasp.  “Give a guy a heart attack!  What are we doing in here?  In Chandler’s dressing room!”

“Damned if we’ve been able to figure it out,” the other twin shrugged from his seat near a tall wardrobe.  “Buddy was already here when I arrived.  Some guards just led us here and said they’d let us know when it was time.  Whatever that means.  That was over an hour ago.”

“Yeah,” Buddy muttered.  “We’ve been coolin’ our heels here ever since.”  He was sprawled on an overstuffed sofa.  “You’re the first person we’ve seen.”

Suddenly, Gary became aware of muffled voices just beyond the door.  It sounded like the security guard who had escorted Gary into the dressing room.  He was talking hurriedly, trying to explain something to whomever was with him.  Gary turned to face the twins.

“M-maybe we shouldn’t be here,” he stammered, pacing nervously as the door opened behind him.  “They must’ve thought we were . . . What?” he asked when saw the stunned looks on the twins’ faces.  They stood slowly, eyes fixed on something just behind Gary.  

“I don’t believe this,” Buddy and Clay murmured simultaneously.

His heart beating like a jackhammer, the young barkeep turned to see what had so riveted their attention..

“Oh . . . my . . .Lord!” the figure in the doorway said in a near whisper.

Stunned, Gary could barely hear the startled exclamation of the security guards standing behind the actor.  Their voices were drowned out by the rushing noise in his own head as his vision narrowed down to that one face.  His face.  “T-Tony?” he gasped.

“N-no, um, Kyle,” the other man stammered in return, extending his hand.  “Kyle Chandler, M-Mr. . . .?”

There was no answer to his half formed question, as Gary’s mind had decided enough was enough.  His eyes rolled up as his knees buckled.  Clay and Buddy jumped forward quickly, all three men grabbing him at the same time and easing him to the floor.

One of the guards was sent for the first-aid kit or an ammonia capsule, whichever he could find first, while another went looking for water.  Anything to rouse the stricken man.  Clay and Buddy were rubbing his wrists, all the time shooting amazed glances at the man whose appearance had so adversely affected their cousin.

“Is he always this high strung?” Kyle Chandler asked as he helped loosen Gary’s shirt.  “I mean, granted, this is a mind blower, for sure, but . . . Was it something I said?”

“N-no,” Buddy replied, a little shaken up himself.  “Gary’s just been under a lot of . . . of stress lately.”

Chandler took in the bandage covering the left side of the stricken man‘s face, and the sling confining his right arm.  The unconscious man also had the pale, haggard look of someone just released from a long confinement.  His face mirroring the concern and wry amusement of the other two, he murmured, “Ya think?”

*****************

The four of them sat in the outer offices of Union Securities, one of the most prestigious investment companies in the Greater Chicago area.  Everyone that Gary had spoken to had agreed that, given their choice, this was the guy they wanted handling their money.

Gary sat with his head in his hands.  He still couldn’t believe that he had passed out yesterday.  Although, given the circumstances, the others had found it more than understandable.  Especially with his recent history.  Still, it had been embarrassing and had left him increasingly on edge.  He felt as if the others were watching him, waiting for his next breakdown.  Even Polly kept shooting him little sidelong glances.

What made it even worse were the looks they kept getting from the people who worked there!  One guy found it so hard to take his eyes off the quartet that he had walked into a potted palm.

“L-let’s try someplace else,” Gary suggested nervously.  “I mean, um, this place seems to be a little . . . busy.”

“All the better,” Clay drawled.  “Means they know their business.”

“Just calm down, Cuz,” Buddy chuckled.  “You’re worse than a calf at brandin’ time.  This won’t take all that long.”

Before Gary could respond, the secretary led another client out.  She smiled at the young man and said something that made him smile in return.  When he’d left, she turned to the four people sitting in the waiting area.  Her smile seemed a little . . . strained as she directed it at them.

“Mr. Evans will see you now.”

“Bout time,” Polly grumbled.  “Let’s get this done.”

They were led past the secretary’s desk and into a spacious corner office with large windows that looked out over the magnificent Chicago skyline.  There was the sound of running water on the other side of a set of double doors that stood slightly ajar. 

“Just have a seat,” a man’s voice called.  “I’ll be right out.”

Buddy and Clay immediately headed for the windows, admiring the spectacular view.  Polly and Gary took seats in front of the large desk.  Gary seemed a little edgy.  That voice had sounded so familiar.

The voice chuckled to someone else they couldn’t see as the portal opened wider and he stepped through, a cordless phone pressed to his ear.  “That’s great, Joanie,” he said as he rounded the door, his face creased in a smile.  His smile froze, however, as he caught sight of his four visitors.  It was slowly replaced by a look of stunned amazement.  “J-Joanie.  Sweetheart, I-I’m gonna hafta . . . hafta call you back. I, um, I have v-visitors.  Y-yes, I love you, too.  I really, really have to go.  Y-yes.  Th-the visitors.”  He quickly turned the phone off and stuck it in his pocket.  “Oh, boy,” he muttered.  “Do I have visitors!”  He managed to summon up a strained smile as he approached the two in front of his desk.  “H-hi, I’m Jake Evans.  How can I . . . help . . . you.”

Three of his visitors had turned toward the fourth, open concern written on their faces as the woman half rose in anticipation.  The object of their attention, however, sat frozen in open-mouthed amazement.  After a moment he seemed to come back from wherever his mind had fled.  Slowly, he rose to his feet, mouth working, but no words coming out.

“Ga-ry?” Polly said in a soothing voice.  She made urgent hand motions to the other two, who looked only slightly less stunned than Gary.  They took the hint, though, and started easing toward their wild-eyed cousin.  “It’s okay. Just calm down.” 

Gary was anything but calm.  “Y-you you you’re Jake Evans?” he finally managed to stammer.

“Ahm, y-yeah,” Evans replied hesitantly.  “A-and you are . . .”

Gary started backing slowly towards the door, nervously slapping his fist into his palm and snapping his fingers.  “Me?  I’m . . . um, heh-heh-heh-I’m outta here!”

************

Jake’s secretary stood close to the door, unaware of the crowd growing behind her as word spread of the three men who looked so much like her boss.  She was listening intently, trying to picture Mr. Evans’ reaction to the astounding group.  Wait!  What was going on?  Someone had just shouted something.  It had sounded suspiciously like ‘Catch him!’  At that moment, the door was snatched open and she was almost bowled over by the young man with the bandage on one cheek.  He never slowed a step.  His right foot hit the seat of her chair, launching him clear over her desk in one stupendous, panic driven leap!  The crowd of gaping onlookers scattered as he bolted for the nearest exit.

The other two came barreling past a second later, running around her desk instead of over it.  One of them yelled something about a check as they disappeared down the hallway.  Stunned, Jake’s secretary turned to see her boss and a woman in her forties standing in the doorway.  Mr. Evans looked just as amazed as she felt. 

The woman turned to him with a martyred expression and a strained smile.  “Please forgive the disturbance,” she drawled.  “Gary’s been under a lot of stress lately.”

Jake slowly turned to face her, his own eyes a little wild.

“Ya think?”

**************

*finito?*

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