Page 44 - Like No Business I Know

Reformulation
(Fantastic Transactions 3, 2006)

“Why are we doing this, Phil? Rushing off in the middle of the
afternoon to a meeting—where?—in a bowling alley?”
“Trust me, Cary. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Salvation awaits us at Starlite Lanes.”
The two business partners, perspiring freely in their suits, hastened
across the asphalt parking lot in the midday sun. Shimmering in heat
waves before them like a desert mirage beckoned a weathered
concrete building, flashing neon signs paling comparison with their
Las Vegas models.
They pushed through grimy glass doors and enjoyed the temporary
relief of air conditioning while their pupils and eardrums adjusted to
high decibels in semi-darkness. Despite the hour the place was filled
with bowlers, all of them teenagers or good imitations. Ominous
bass-heavy pop music reverberated from bare walls. Black light
picked up fluorescent highlights from balls, pin-spotting machines
and hair dye. Scores flashed above each lane on brightly-colored
electronic panels.
“This is not my father’s bowling alley,” said Cary slowly, raising his
voice over the din. His blinking was bewilderment, no longer
blindness. “I haven’t bowled since I was a kid. What happened?”
“He said he’d be at lane thirteen.” Phil pointed. “Let’s go.”
Cary followed him past the control desk, suddenly grateful he
didn’t have to rent shoes or a house ball. They sat down in the
narrow gallery behind a lane in which two men were bowling. On
closer inspection Phil realized that this pair was at least a decade
older than those around them, although their attire and facial hair
were indistinguishable from the other bowlers.
“These are the guys you want to see?” Cary’s normally placid
expression turned sour. “Is this a joke, Phil?”
“Not at all. But I couldn’t have gotten you here if I’d told you any
more than I did. Don’t blow it: I made this appointment on the basis
of a very reliable recommendation. But we have only one chance, so

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