Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Day Twelve - Putting on the Ritz

Sam had an uneventful night. Al made it through without another nightmare, a feat he considered a victory if small. After a call in to Senator Summerfield, Al realized he didn't have anything appropriate to wear to the committee meeting he'd be at in two days. Sam was still in his pajamas and reading the paper in the living room. Al hadn't changed from his pajamas either. He pulled the top over his head and announced the plans for the day. It was a field trip to Luigi Migliore's, a unique men's shop in Chicago's Little Italy. Migliore was Al's favorite tailor and if anyone could get him into a new suit in less than a day, it was Luigi.

"There's a bonus too. Got to be a hundred good Italian restaurants down there. So, get dressed." He started back into his room and came back out. "You're driving down. I'm not carrying a garment bag on the el." He tossed the pajama top at his buddy.

Sam caught the silk shirt. "Why am I doing all the driving? I don't know Chicago." The shirt was thrown back.

Al missed the toss and leaned down to pick up the missile. Al feigned distress, "I'm still achy from saving your sister's life, but if you want me, a man 19 years your senior to drive, then I will." There was a sigh the size of a typhoon.

"You're pitiful. I'll drive. You just better point me in the right direction."

"Would I ever lead your wrong? Don't answer that."

By ten, they were showered, dressed and driving east on the Eisenhower. A right turn onto Ashland, a left onto Taylor and they were in the heart of the old Italian neighborhood. "This place rocks at night, Sam."

On the left, Sam spotted the storefront. "That where we're headed?"

"Yeah." He pointed, "Turn here and go into the alley. I called Luigi. He knows we're coming and we can park in back."

From Sam's perspective it didn't seem like Luigi had much of a place. The storefront was barely 15 feet wide. "Does he have room in there for a sewing machine?"

"You'd be surprised, Sam." A parking space had a makeshift label: Admiral Calavicci Only - All others will be towed. Al smiled at the consideration. "Got to love Luigi." They walked to the back door and rang the bell.

Luigi, with an accent that broadcast the land of his birth, greeted them himself. "Ciao, Alberto. Que se dice?"

"Not much, Luigi. What's up with you?"

The tailor drew himself up to his full five feet three inches. "Not much? You lie. I see the news. Someone try to kill you."

"Yeah, well there is that."

He wagged his finger in the Admiral's face. "In Italy we have way to make him pay."

Al laughed. "Yeah, well, we got one here too. It's called jurisprudence. He'll go to jail for a long time, Luigi. Don't worry."

"Good, he a bastardo."

"Got that right." Sam started to gaze around the back room. "Hey, this is my best friend. His name is Sam Beckett."

Luigi grabbed Sam's hand with both of his. "Ah, the genius. Alberto talk about you to me. He say you real smart."

"I guess I have moments."

There was a mission to accomplish and the chit chat had to end. Luigi rubbed his hands together, anxious to work with his favorite customer. "Okay, now we all know each other. Come. Come with me. I pull some stock for you, Alberto. We find you a nice suit."

Sam and Al followed the little man into the front of the store. On one wall hung maybe two hundred suits in any number of sizes and colors. Sam was stunned. "You'd never think there was this much stuff in here."

Luigi's entrepreneurial buttons were popping. "This is just one floor. I got all five more floors of clothes upstairs."

The stunned look stayed on Sam's face. "Five floors of suits?"

"Three with suits, the last two have sport coats, trousers, formal wear." Luigi turned his concentration to Al. "I make Tony pull a dozen suits for you, Alberto. You take a look."

Off to the side a rack was filled with dark suits. Al took off his coat and started thumbing through them. "Luigi, I don't want to look like I'm going to a funeral."

The little tailor scurried to the wall and without a second guess brought a suit to Al. "This is no funeral suit." The dark charcoal gray jacket had a barely visible soft gray pinstripe. It was double-breasted and very elegant. "This the one then. Never you mind those." He hung the suit on a hook and helped Al try on the jacket. "It fit you pretty good already." The tailor tugged on the sleeves and the hem seeing exactly where he'd have to make his alterations. "

"Luigi, you're a genius, too. Damn, this is nice." He fingered the fabric. "This a blend?"

"Silk and wool. You wear year round, but not to funeral." Luigi roared at his joke. Al did too.

Seeing the two little Italians having such fun made Sam join in. "That's a good looking jacket, Al. I'm sure the Committee will all be dazzled by your splendor."

"Don't be cute. You're next."

"What for?"

Al was checking himself out in the three-way mirror. "Because you can't be wearing that high school graduation suit when I'm in these threads." He looked at Luigi, "For the shirt, dove grey, even paler." He pulled the trousers from the hanger and disappeared into the changing room.

Luigi yelled out, "Eh, Tony!" From somewhere, no one could actually tell from where, Tony appeared. "Tony, get me a 14½ light grey silk, French cuffs and a belt." By the time Al came out of the changing room, Luigi put out five ties. "Now, you want at least two, one for your meeting," and his eyes twinkled when he added, "and one that you can wear when you want to be well-dressed."

Al saw Sam sitting bored, like a little kid dragged by his dad to get new school shoes. "Hey, get over here. Pick out a tie for me."

"You're going to trust me with your wardrobe?"

"I'm going to trust you with a tie, the one for the Committee. You can find me the boring tie."

Sam looked over the selection and pointed to the darkest one. "That's the boring one. It's the one I like best."

"Figures. Lu, which one is the best for not wearing to the meeting?"

Luigi picked up a pastel pink heavy silk and held it against the jacket. "It's classic. Perfecto. You come back at three. It will be ready." Off to the side, he noticed Sam thumbing through the inventory. "You want to find a suit?"

Al was insistent. "Pull something for him. He has to get a new suit. The blazer he wears makes him look 12 years old."

"He wear blazer? Like . . . frat boy?"

It was a good laugh and Al rubbed his eyes. "Just like. He's conservative, but give him some class, something distinctive."

Without a second thought, Luigi found a very dark blue suit with a fitted cut. "You try on just to be sure of size, but I think it right. Good cut for you." Luigi puffed himself up. "Show off strong shoulders." He slapped Sam on the back, "Girls like shoulders."

The jacket slid onto Sam's body and for the first time he felt clothes could be more than something to cover up a naked body. "Oh, boy. This is nice."

"Fifteen minutes later, the alteration marks were made and a promise that Al's suit would be done, but Sam's would be sent. That was fine and the pair left Luigi's to spend some time exploring the Italian shops up and down Taylor Street.

They returned at 2:30 instead of three, prepared to wait. However, the little tailor not only had the suit ready, but Sam's was just about finished as well. "I close the shop today just for you. You special customers and you get all my time."

Sam tried on the suit for a final check of the trouser cuffs. When he saw himself in the mirror, he was surprised at how much better a suit looked when it was actually tailored. "Wow. This is really nice, Luigi." He turned sideways to look again. "Damn."

Luigi adjusted the shoulders a little. "This blue/black color is good for you. Now you wear all kind of shirt, white, cream, blue, pink, all good."

"Yeah, I think so. You got one you think will go with this? I want to wear it for the committee meeting."

Three shirt and tie combinations were waiting on a table for him. "I think the pink shirt and the traditional tie is nice for you. Conservative, but the color in the shirt is just a little bold."

Sam didn't bother looking his way, but he talked to Al. "Come and take a look. Tell me which one you think is best."

The always sartorially resplendent Admiral gazed over the choices. "Buy them all, Sam. You're a big boy now. You'll find places to wear all three."

As Sam changed back into his own clothes Al took care of the bill. Luigi told him, "Two suits, two belts, four shirts and five ties." He thought in his head. "That about two thousand dollars, but for you I make fifteen hundred."

"You're too good to me, Luigi."

"You hero. I nice to heroes."

Al pulled out a credit card. "I'm no hero. It was stupid to get into a fight with him. He was too big for me. If it weren't for Sam, I'd be dead. He saved my life."

Luigi's little eyes tripled in size. He pointed to the dressing room. "That Sam? He save you?"

Al confessed, "In more ways than one, Lu, a lot more ways than one."

The tailor pushed Al's card back in his hand. "No. No. You take suits and everything. My gift to two heroes. I proud to know you."

"Can't do that, Lu."

"You no accept my gift? That's no respectful. Good thing I no Siciliani." His index finger pulled down on his lower eyelid. "They give evil eye. I want you and Sam to take suits. My gifts. Don't worry. I charge you good to replace uniform!" He laughed again. Luigi was always highly amused at his own jokes.

"We're not done with this, but I won't argue with you now. Thanks."

Sam came out holding the trousers that needed another five minutes. Luigi took them into his sewing room and left his customers to wait. Sam started looking at more suits. "Now I see why you like this place. He's good."

"He's beyond good, Sam." The Admiral yawned and began to scratch at the stitches on his head. "When do these come out?"

"I'll take a look when we get to the hotel. I might be able to pull them."

"Good. They make my head hurt."

Sam caught the choice of word and wasn't pleased. "Your head hurts?"

His head did hurt, but no more than usual considering the events of the past week. "No. It itches more than anything. Just want these damn things out."

The doctor's eyes took a quick look. "The cut's healed up pretty well. Stop at a drug store so I can get something to sterilize the clippers."

"There's one near the hotel." Al's hand went back to the stitches. "I hate these things."

Luigi came out holding two nylon garment bags and a sack filled with accessories. "Okay, now." He handed a black bag to Sam. "Your suit and shirts are here. The ties and belt I put in the bag." The red garment bag was given to Al. "You, I give red bag to. You not so quiet as him, but your ties and belt in the bag too. I put mother of pearl studs in for French cuff."

Sam was flabbergasted. "I can't believe you did this in one day." His genius brain finally remembered he needed to pay and visions of lots and lots of money sped through his mind. "Let me get my card for you."

As Sam reached into his pocket, Luigi took his hand. "It my gift to you for saving my friend. I thank you so much. Without Alberto, this place close long time ago."

Al didn't want to hear any more. "That's enough. I won't recommend you again, so be quiet. We need to get home before rush hour gets worse, but I want to use the head. Excuse me."

Luigi waited until Al was out of earshot. He signaled Sam to come close. In a whisper he told his newest customer, "Four years ago I very sick. No work. He pay my mortgage seven months. No even tell me. From bank I find out. He save my life then." The tailor hugged Sam. "You save his life now. So I get chance repay a little." It was the kind of information Al hated people knowing. "You no tell Alberto I tell you. He don't want people know he a nice man."

"I've noticed that. I'll keep it our secret."

"Si, segreti."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

They were back at the hotel. Al was beat. Before going off for a nap, Sam wanted to take a look at the wound on Al's head. The Admiral sat on the chair by the desk. The floor lamp was pulled over and its bright light was focused on the small shaved area of Al's scalp. "I think the stitches can come out. Want me to do it now?"

There was no reason to wait. "Go ahead. Have fun."

Sam opened the bag of supplies he purchased at the Walgreen's around the corner. "Shouldn't be a problem. I do nice work. The stitches are beautiful, all even, not too tight."

"Maybe you can find some work with Luigi. Get the damn things out, would you?"

A gauze pad was soaked with rubbing alcohol and the stitches were sterilized. Sam's thumb rested against the remnants of the lump made by Al's meeting with the pylon and the Admiral grimaced, "Ow. That's still a little sore."

The bruising was hard to see through Al's dark hair, but Sam saw that the skin was still deep purple. "This is still one ugly contusion. It shouldn't be this tender." The doctor gently put a little pressure on the bump and it brought another startled wince. "I don't like this, Al."

"Just pull the stitches."

Too much time had passed and Sam had to sterilize the field again. The little fingernail scissors were dipped right into the bottle of alcohol. With the dexterity of a much more practiced hand, Sam snipped through all 14 stitches. A tweezers pulled each bit of thread completely from Al's scalp. More alcohol to clean away the tiny bit of bleeding. "And we're done. Congratulations. You're stitch free."

"Thanks, Sam. Wake me around seven."

Sam didn't want him to leave yet. "Can I take a look at the other bruises? I'd feel better if I could be sure they're healing."

The heavy sigh told Sam exactly how Al felt about an examination. "You promise to stop being an old woman about this if I let you take a look?"

Boy Scout fingers pledged to honor Al's request. "I promise on my word of honor as an Eagle Scout."

Sam as a Boy Scout in the little green shorts and the yellow tie was an image that had Al laughing. "Don't tell me you were an Eagle Scout."

"You mean you weren't? Finally, something I've done that you haven't!"

"Yeah, Little Italy was a hotbed of Boy Scout activity. I'm going to my room now."

"I'm following you in. The exam, remember?"

"Come on, Dr. Kildare. Let's get this over with." They went into Al's room to get it out of the way. Fortunately, things were looking good.

The evening came and as the sky darkened, Sam was playing with his new clothes. He'd never owned a suit like this gift from the master tailor. The shirts were elegant and he was actually looking forward to having to get dressed up, something that was a new experience for him.

Al rested, but he wasn't falling sleep. The exam was good from Sam's perspective. Ugly green and yellow bruises were replacing the purple ones and that meant one thing - Al's body was healing. From the Admiral's point of view, everything still hurt and even a little more than he thought it should, but he wasn't going to say anything. The committee in DC already demanded his medical records. There was no way he would show anyone he was hurting, least of all Sam. He tried one more time to keep his eyes closed and at last, success was his.

At seven, Sam walked into Al's room to wake him for dinner. The Admiral wasn't in bed and the bathroom door was open. Then Sam remembered words from the other night. "Hopefully you won't find me curled up behind the chair." Sam walked to the easy chair in the corner of the dark room. Behind it he found his friend sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees and leaning against the wall. Sam wanted to cry again, but he'd have to get past that. Al needed him to be strong and Sam was just going to learn how to be strong enough.

Pride got in the way of a lot, but sometimes pride had to be respected. Sam would not let Al know he'd witnessed this incident. That awareness would humiliate the Admiral and that was unacceptable. Room service for dinner would be fine and they'd order whenever Al woke up. He just hoped that Al would awaken naturally and not filled with terrors.

About an hour later, the Admiral made an appearance. "I thought you were going to wake me."

In the time he had, Sam worked out his alibi. "I fell asleep myself. Just woke up. Why don't we get some room service?"

"We got to be at Great Lakes tomorrow at nine. A.J. wants to talk to me. That should be a joy."

"Can't wait. What do you want for dinner?"

Al grinned. "Deep dish spinach pizza with sausage and a beer."

"I keep eating like you and I won't fit in my new suit."

"So, make it thin crust."

"How about something more healthful?"

"A veggie thin crust without sausage? But I still want a beer." He sat on the couch across from Sam. "Make that two beers."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you.