Thank You for Smoking by Christopher Buckley Page B

whatever, Third or something. We could go to Il Peccatore." Senator Finisterre, nephew of the slain president, had recently made it famous when a waitress walked into the private back room with the food a nd found the senator filibuster ing a young female aide on the table. The incident made print and ever since the tour buses had been stopping there next to the sidewalk in front, where Il Peccatore's outside tables were set up and the tour guides would say over the loudspeakers, "That's where the incident involving Senator Finisterre took place," and people from Indiana wo uld take their pictures while Il Peccatore's sidewalk patrons tried to eat their arugula and calamari without feeling that they were background in some live sex act show.
    "I . .."
    "Aw, come on." "I better not." "Why?"
    "I've got a Designated Driver Committee dinner."
    "After the dinner, then. How l ate can a Designated Driver Com mittee dinner go?"
    For a second there it looked like she was going to say yes, yes I will, yes. Then she said, "I really can't. Maybe some other time."
    8
    Sa mmy Najeeb, Larry King's producer and a force of nature, six-foot-something, big, hearty, came to fetch him in the reception area and take him to makeup. "I used to smoke like a chimney," she said.
    "It's never too late to take it back up again. By the way, who's on the second segment?"
    "You don't want to know," Sammy said.
    Nick stopped. "Not the cancer kid?"
    "No. This isn't Oprah. But you're in the right ballpark."
    "Who?"
    "Trust me, you won't have to be in the same room at the same time, I promise. It's all fixed. I gave instructions." "Who?"
    "It's Lorne Lutch."
    "I'm on with the Tumbleweed Man? Are you nuts?"
    "You're not on with anyone. It's two completely different segments. Look, it's not a setup, Larry wanted you on, then Atl anta said he had to put someone else from the other side on after, for balance."
    "Balance," Nick muttered.
    "It's gonna be fine. Larry loved what you did on Oprah. He's a fan.
He used to smoke three packs a day."
"Hi there," said the makeup lady.
Fuming, Nick took his seat. "I take Innocent Bisque?"
"I'm out of Innocent," she said. "But Indigo is close."
"All right. And Tawny Blush highlight."
    Jesus, the Tumbleweed Man. For over twenty years the very symbol of America's smoking manhood in the saddle, his rugged, granite face on the back cover of every magazine, on billboards, on TV, in those happy bygone days. Now he was breathing through a hole in his throat and with every breath he had left—which was not many, thank God, according to Gomez O'Neal, the head of the Academy's intelligence unit—paving his way to the Pearly Gate by warning everyone about the evils of smoking. Ironically, it was Nick who had talked Total Tobacco Company management out of suing him for breach of faith, on the grounds that it would do no good to the industry's image to sue a dying man with three kids and twelve grandchildren, especially since his croaky pleas to the nation's youth had made him a media darling (at least with the broadcast media since they couldn't accept cigarette ads anyway). Maybe, thought Nick, he could trot out this pathetic little detail in his defense tonight.
    Sammy was hovering, as if she didn't trust him not to flee down the fire stairs with his makeup bib still on.
    Larry King was very welcoming. "Good to see you. Thanks for coming."
    "Pleasure," Nick said tightly. His trapezius muscles were hyper-contracting. He was going to need a session with Dr. Wheat soon. He could use a session with Dr. Wheat right now.
    "I used to smoke three packs a day," Larry said. "And you know something, I still miss it. We're gonna have a good show tonight. Lot of calls. Very emotional issue."
    "I understand Lorne Lutch is on the second segment," Nick said.
    Larry shrugged. "What can you do? I'll tell you something, though."
    "What's that?"
    "He's a nice guy."
    "Yes, that's what we hear."
    "By the way, you know what that hole is called? The one in the