am I going to do, just let him get sick? Shit.” He looked around tiredly. With Pomeroy, if it wasn’t one thing, it
was another. The man was a grab bag of bad surprises.
“It’s nothing personal,” Pomeroy said. “It’s business.”
“It’s
bad
business,” Klein said. “You’ve got to remember that we’ve got a fairly heavy backer here. Sloane Investments, I mean. They
prefer a soft touch. You don’t have one. Take my advice and work one up before you wake them up, will you? This whole thing
could dissolve in about a dozen phone calls.”
“Sometimes a soft touch doesn’t work. Sometimes you’ve got to push someone.”
“Don’t try to push me.”
Pomeroy sat back in his chair. “There’s pushing and there’s pushing,” he said. Then, widening his eyes, he rolled up a paper
napkin, shoved an end into the candle vase, and let the paper catch fire. He dropped the burningnapkin into the bowl full of ice and water alongside his milk glass, pushing it under the ice with his finger.
“Hey,” he said, standing up. “There’s someone I know. Small damned world, isn’t it?”
Klein didn’t look up. Any friend of Pomeroy’s was sure to be worth avoiding.
“Thanks for dinner,” Pomeroy said. “I’ll cover the tip. Next time let’s try a restaurant that’s a little more upscale, though.
All these chopped-up neckties hanging from the ceiling give me the creeps. That can’t be sanitary.” He threw two singles on
the table and walked away.
“Anything more?” Peggy asked Klein a few moments later.
“What? No. I guess not,” Klein said. “Look, I’m sorry about that guy. He’s the king of the jerks.”
“I guess I’ve seen worse.”
“They don’t come any worse,” Klein said, taking the check from her. He calculated a twenty-percent tip, put the money on the
table along with Pomeroy’s two dollars, and got up to go. Then he saw that Pomeroy hadn’t left yet. He was standing at a table
near the front entrance, gesturing and talking. Seated at the table, not talking, was Beth Potter—Klein’s next-door neighbor—along
with her son and her boyfriend. Klein sat back down, looking away quickly when he saw Pomeroy point in his direction. In his
mind he pictured card houses collapsing.
“Stupid,” he muttered. “Really stupid.”
18
“T HAT ONE WAS MINE, I THINK ,” B OBBY SAID, POINTING at a pink-and-yellow necktie that hung from the steak house ceiling. “My dad used to take me here all the time.”
A party of a half dozen people sat at an adjacent table. Three of them wore loud ties that had been cut in half when they
entered the restaurant. Yellow cardboard triangles had been stapled on beneath the knots, with the words “I lost my tie at
a necktie party at Trabuco Oaks” scrawled across the cardboard in blue felt pen. Ten thousand severed ties hung from the wooden
ceiling like multicolored bats. Peter realized that he had a hell of a headache, and that he was tensing the muscles in his
jaw without meaning to.
“Take your hat off,” Beth said to Bobby.
“How come?”
“Because it’s polite.”
“That guy over there’s got one on,” Bobby said, gesturing across the room at a man who looked like a lumberjack.
“I know him,” Peter said. “He’s got a condition. Otherwise he wouldn’t be wearing it.”
Bobby took off his hat unhappily and tried to smooth his hair down with his fingers. “Can I have some quarters?” he asked.
A video game stood just inside the doorway, around the corner in the waiting area. Peter dug five quarters out of his pants
pocket and gave them to Bobby, who stood up, telling his mother to order him a cheeseburger and a Coke.No longer at the table, he put his hat back on.
“His father took him here
once,
” Beth said when Bobby had gone. “Somehow Bobby always inflates it. He
promised
to take him all the time, but he never did. He used to call up and set up a time, but then he wouldn’t show up. The
was another. The man was a grab bag of bad surprises.
“It’s nothing personal,” Pomeroy said. “It’s business.”
“It’s
bad
business,” Klein said. “You’ve got to remember that we’ve got a fairly heavy backer here. Sloane Investments, I mean. They
prefer a soft touch. You don’t have one. Take my advice and work one up before you wake them up, will you? This whole thing
could dissolve in about a dozen phone calls.”
“Sometimes a soft touch doesn’t work. Sometimes you’ve got to push someone.”
“Don’t try to push me.”
Pomeroy sat back in his chair. “There’s pushing and there’s pushing,” he said. Then, widening his eyes, he rolled up a paper
napkin, shoved an end into the candle vase, and let the paper catch fire. He dropped the burningnapkin into the bowl full of ice and water alongside his milk glass, pushing it under the ice with his finger.
“Hey,” he said, standing up. “There’s someone I know. Small damned world, isn’t it?”
Klein didn’t look up. Any friend of Pomeroy’s was sure to be worth avoiding.
“Thanks for dinner,” Pomeroy said. “I’ll cover the tip. Next time let’s try a restaurant that’s a little more upscale, though.
All these chopped-up neckties hanging from the ceiling give me the creeps. That can’t be sanitary.” He threw two singles on
the table and walked away.
“Anything more?” Peggy asked Klein a few moments later.
“What? No. I guess not,” Klein said. “Look, I’m sorry about that guy. He’s the king of the jerks.”
“I guess I’ve seen worse.”
“They don’t come any worse,” Klein said, taking the check from her. He calculated a twenty-percent tip, put the money on the
table along with Pomeroy’s two dollars, and got up to go. Then he saw that Pomeroy hadn’t left yet. He was standing at a table
near the front entrance, gesturing and talking. Seated at the table, not talking, was Beth Potter—Klein’s next-door neighbor—along
with her son and her boyfriend. Klein sat back down, looking away quickly when he saw Pomeroy point in his direction. In his
mind he pictured card houses collapsing.
“Stupid,” he muttered. “Really stupid.”
18
“T HAT ONE WAS MINE, I THINK ,” B OBBY SAID, POINTING at a pink-and-yellow necktie that hung from the steak house ceiling. “My dad used to take me here all the time.”
A party of a half dozen people sat at an adjacent table. Three of them wore loud ties that had been cut in half when they
entered the restaurant. Yellow cardboard triangles had been stapled on beneath the knots, with the words “I lost my tie at
a necktie party at Trabuco Oaks” scrawled across the cardboard in blue felt pen. Ten thousand severed ties hung from the wooden
ceiling like multicolored bats. Peter realized that he had a hell of a headache, and that he was tensing the muscles in his
jaw without meaning to.
“Take your hat off,” Beth said to Bobby.
“How come?”
“Because it’s polite.”
“That guy over there’s got one on,” Bobby said, gesturing across the room at a man who looked like a lumberjack.
“I know him,” Peter said. “He’s got a condition. Otherwise he wouldn’t be wearing it.”
Bobby took off his hat unhappily and tried to smooth his hair down with his fingers. “Can I have some quarters?” he asked.
A video game stood just inside the doorway, around the corner in the waiting area. Peter dug five quarters out of his pants
pocket and gave them to Bobby, who stood up, telling his mother to order him a cheeseburger and a Coke.No longer at the table, he put his hat back on.
“His father took him here
once,
” Beth said when Bobby had gone. “Somehow Bobby always inflates it. He
promised
to take him all the time, but he never did. He used to call up and set up a time, but then he wouldn’t show up. The
Similar Books
