Appointment in Samarra

Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara Page A

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Authors: John O'Hara
Tags: Fiction, Literary
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Lebrix.
    “The big boy tell you I was coming?” said Al.
    “He dit,” said Lebrix. He was dipping a cigar in brandy, using his left hand, and giving the impression of not letting his right hand know what the left hand was doing. He saved the right hand for his little gestures. “Thee lady is resting,” hetossed his head back to indicate upstairs. “She was a little onder the wather wan Ed phoned.”
    “She know I’m coming?”
    “She will. If you want the truth, she was cockeye dronk.”
    “Oh, yeah? She’s liable to—”
    “She wawnt leave the room. I have Marie to watch her.” Marie was Lebrix’s common-law wife. Anyhow, that’s what she said. “You want to see her? She started to drink when she got up, without eating breakfast. She can’t do dat. She can’t drink at all. But no. ‘It’s Christmas. I have to drink. I have to get dronk. It’s Christmas.’ God damn son of a bitch a bastard. I wish Ed would take her some other place. She is more trobble than she is worth.”
    “Oh, well,” said Al.
    “Aw, well. Sure. Aw, well. If I had a woman do like that you bet she would not do it twice.”
    “Oh, well, you know how it is, Fox,” said Al.
    Lebrix nodded. “Oh, pardon,” he said. “You have your dinner? Have a drink?”
    “No, just a cuppa coffee.”
    “Café Royale?”
    “No, thanks, Fox. Just coffee. No drinks for me tonight.”
    “Too bad. I’ll order coffee.” He pushed a button under the top of the desk and told a waiter to serve Al’s coffee. “Lots of reservations tonight. Several parties from Gibbsville, and a big dinner from Taqua. Jews. And that politician, Donovan, he has the nerve to reserve a table for ten for tonight. Cheap bastard son of a bitch.”
    “He’ll pay,” said Al.
    “Sure he’ll pay. He’ll hand me a century, like a big heavy spender, and I’m soppose to thank him politely, but then I give him his change and it’s ten sawbucks. The waiters are lucky if they get a tip. That’s the way he is, the cheap bastard son of a bitch. I’d like to give him a Mickey Finn. I never gave one of those in my life, but if I do, he will be the first.”
    “You can’t do that.”
    “
I
know. You want to sit with Helene tonight?”
    “I guess that’s the best way.”
    “Yes, I think so. Some of our guests, they get some of this so-called champagne in their bellies, and Miss Holman will begin to think she is Mistinguett.”
    “What?”
    “French entertainer. Yes, if your job is to keep an eye on her, you better be where she can see you so she will not forget herself. It’s Christmas, my friend. She may give something away.”
    “Huh. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
    “So?” said Lebrix.

4
    They were driving south on the way to the club, down South Main Street. Caroline was smoking a cigarette and holding Julian’s hand. He took the hand away to do
shave-and-a-haircut
on the horn button, signaling to the Cadillac just ahead of their own.
    “Who’s that?” said Caroline.
    “A good prospect,” said Julian. “Young Al Grecco.”
    “Who’s he? I know him by name. Who is he?”
    “He’s a sort of a yes man for Ed Charney,” said Julian. The coupé in front turned off to the left, to the Lincoln Street bridge, and apparently Al Grecco did not hear the signal. He did not turn his head or answer with
bay-rum
on the horn of the coupé.
    “Oh, he’s the one that went to Philadelphia for the champagne. Did he get it?” said Caroline.
    “If Mr. Charney wants champagne, whoever is told to get it, gets it.”
    “Oh, I don’t believe it. Why are people so afraid of him?”
    “I’m afraid of him,” said Julian.
    “You are not. You’re not afraid of anyone. My big strong man. My mate.”
    “Nuts to you, sister,” he said.
    “Don’t call me sister, and don’t say nuts.”
    “Say masticate,” said Julian. “God, did you ever hear anyone like Mother? Did you hear her telling the old gent not to say masticate? You know she hasn’t the

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