Lucky Day

That's me, Mr. Lucky.

So I called a client, a very pretty girl who was no great talent but she was very serious about her acting career, took acting lessons and whenever she had a job she’d make her best effort to memorize her lines (she usually got one or two scenes, you’ve probably seen a few of them, where the party gets out of hand and people start getting into each other – hint, hint – and then the mad killer shows up…)

And unlike some of my clients, if the director says, no, don’t do it that way, do it this way, she just smiles and okay.

So she was no great talent but she always did her very best and a lot of people who make low budget movies appreciate that she works hard and has a good attitude and she usually got a role of some sort every month or so.

So I had her come into the office and we were reading through the script and discussing the role and my commission, and while reading the script - I have found that some of my clients sometimes needed some direction on how to pronounce certain words that I am almost embarrassed to repeat - she suddenly gets up and screams.

“Do you see a scream anywhere on the page?” I said and she says in a loud voice, “Look!!” She points to a spot on the floor next to a filing cabinet and sure enough there’s a big fat flat cockroach. Just snuck through a space between the baseboard and the floor.

I’ve mentioned this to my landlord on more than one occasion. Oh, I understand, he’d say, it’s a real problem in the city, you know, did you see that article in the newspaper? That’s why I have an exterminator come in every month at night, trust me, I’ll take care of that!

This is why I pay my rent on time every month, so my clients get to see roaches in my office. 

So I got up and snuck up and stepped on the little pest, and the girl screamed again. “That’s so disgusting!” she said as I took a crumpled paper towel from my pocket and wiped my shoe. “So what do you want, I should catch him and throw him out the window?”

Anyway, she calmed down and we finished up what we needed to do - I needed to have her repeat one line about five times, she kept tripping over “metaphysical certitude” of all things - and I told her that I knew she was going to do a great job in the movie, and she gave me a hug and went on her way.

I wanted to take a shot of vodka, but instead I called my aunt Mildred, and after the usual pleasantries, for example, uncle Jack was smoking cigars again, even after his doctor told him it was a bad habit, that and eating chicken skin, and was my father wearing a hat like the dermatologist told him so he wouldn’t get another bad spot on his balding head, and was I watching my weight, I finally said, “So how do you get rid of roaches?”

“You have roaches?! Do you live like a slob? That’s why people have roaches, they live like slobs!”

“I’m calling from my office, I can’t help it if the people in the next office don’t clean up after themselves.” A couple of brothers who were accountants in one office next to me, an agency that rented out secretaries and bookkeepers in the office on the other side. I’m sure they threw food and soda all over the floor every day.

“Well I told your father he should find an office in a nice new building,” she said.

“What do you recommend,” I finally said. 

“Well, not to say anything bad about my sister, after all she is your mother, but if you asked her, she’d -“

“I didn’t ask her, I’m asking you, I know you’re a fanatic about cleanliness.”

“Yes, that’s true, even though people hate to admit it’s a good thing, you probably do want to ask me what to do.”

I rubbed my nose and ran my fingers through my hair. “So what do you recommend, Aunt Mildred?”

“Well, you could put roach powder down along the edges of the floor, but that stuff’s poison, if you open a window it could get in the air, so you probably don’t want to do that.”

“So what do I want to do?” I said.

“Or you could get a can of roach spray and spray it all along the edges of the floor, but that stuff will stink up your office, so you probably don’t want to  do that either.”

“So what do I want to do?” I said. Louder.

“Go to a hardware store, you know where there’s a hardware store, right? or a  place like that, you know, they probably have lots of things you could use in your office.”

“So uncle Jack is smoking cigars again?”

“Yes, and don’t change the subject, it’s only those little cigars, maybe twice a day. You get yourself to a hardware store today”

“And what do I ask for when I get to the hardware store?” I said, although I was ready to scream.

“Oh, you want to ask for roach motels.”

“Roach motels? Is that what they’re called?”

“Don’t you ever turn on the television? They advertise them all the time. Cardboard boxes about the size of those cigar boxes that uncle Jack’s cigars come in, you remember what they look like, those cigar boxes?”

“Yes,” I said as I began to reach for the drawer with the shot bottles.

“Well, you get some of those, they have glue inside that smells like caramel. The roaches go in and get stuck. It’s the first thing I recommend when anyone asks my advice about roaches… what, do you have a cough? Are you eating healthy?”

 “Yes, I try to eat healthy,” I said as I swallowed the rest of the vodka. “The air is a little dry today and I had someone in to dust today.”

“Well, you see what I said? When you get to the hardware store, you should also get a humidifier.”

I wanted another shot bottle but just said, “OK, I’ll stop by the hardware store today and get some roach motels.”

“Good, I’m glad you listen to me. Do you still speak to your parents? I hate to spend the money on long distance, you know your mother can talk a lot when she’s on the phone.”

“I know, I know, I call from the office a couple of times a week, that way it’s a business expense.”

“Well, tell them I said hello and that uncle Jack is smoking again and your cousin Susie quit teaching again and that your father should wear a hat like his doctor told him to.”

“Okay, and tell uncle Jack and everyone else that I said hello, we have to get together again one of these days,” I said. Maybe to say goodbye to uncle Jack when he finally sprouts wings and flies away.

So I went into this hardware store that’s around the corner about a block and a half away, a small dusty place that’s been there for ages. The bell over the door rings and the guy sitting behind the counter looked up from his newspaper as I came in and said, “What can I do for you?”

“Do you have roach motels?”

“Oh, sure, a lot of people around here want them. What kind of roaches you got, big or little?”

“I saw a big flat one, maybe an inch long.”

“I got just what you want,” he said and he strolled into one of the cluttered aisles. He came back with a package wrapped in cellophane and put it on the counter. “Two motels in here, should be enough to start with,” he said as he sat down again. “You know what to do with ‘em?”

I admitted that I wasn’t entirely sure. “OK, you take the wrapper off, put one box where you saw that roach, put the other someplace that looks the same. Look inside every day, if it looks crowded, you throw it out and come for another package. They probably won’t eliminate ‘em but they’ll keep the bugs under control.”

“Okay, I’ll see how they work.” I paid him, he thanked me, I left. I went just a bit out of my way to get a donut and coffee at Grouchy’s Deli before I went back to the office.

I tossed a quarter to a panhandler near the office for luck, I had an important client coming by in about 20 minutes. I wolfed down the donut, gulped the coffee, then looked at the roach motels wrapper for a moment. I opened it and put the motels where the hardware guy suggested I put them.

Matilda was a well-known sort of minor actress, most people wouldn’t know her name but they’d probably recognize her from all the television shows she’d been in. Day time soaps, nighttime dramas and comedies, an occasional spot on a talk show or game show, you name it, she’s done it. Probably been around for thirty years, maybe more.

Right on time, she came in without knocking, toting a carrier with her cat. Some kind of mixed breed with long hair like half Persian and half something else, I never bothered to learn anything else about him. She did insist on telling me that he was the Sweetest Pussycat and had been neutered. Ouch.

Obviously, given her opinion of herself, she saw no reason to ask me if she could let the cat roam around the office.

“Now, what are we going to talk about today, dear?” she said. She had a very good air of politeness and class, even if it was all an act.

“Well, first, the soap wants you back. From what they told me, I think they’re thinking at least twice, maybe three days a week for at least a few weeks, you know, they want to bring back the sister of the woman who died. You know Evelyn, right?”

“Oh, yes, poor thing. Let herself get written out for good.”

“I heard she wanted out to take it easy, she’d been there a long time.”

“Well, you wouldn’t catch me letting myself being written out of such a good part like that!”

“I know what you mean, but that’s what she wanted, I heard it from one of my clients who’s been on the show.”

“Prince! Stop nosing around! Come sit here!” she said to her cat, who so far as I could tell had no intentions of listening to her.

“Oh, but here’s the twist,” I said, “they want you on the show because she died and you heard she was leaving a lot of money to the son she’d been on bad terms with for a long time, and your character feels she should have been one of the main heirs to her estate. It’ll be a good opportunity to let the soap’s fans see you again after all these months.” I took a moment to think, series or drama, while she nodded her head. I could tell she wanted back on the soap.

“But I also got a call the same day from a producer at a prime time crime drama, he thinks you’d be perfect for a part in an upcoming episode. And the best thing is - ”

And she screamed.

“Please don’t tell me you saw a roach!”

“No, you fool, worse than that! Look at Prince!”

I almost twisted my neck as I looked and saw that the little monster had one of his paws stuck in one of the roach motels.

“Oh, geez, Matilda, it’s just glue, we can get his paw out and wash it off.”

“But what if it’s poison in there! You think they just put glue in there? Don’t treat me like a fool!”

Well, the wrapper clearly said NON-TOXIC will not harm household pets if they come in contact with the contents, and that’s what I told her. 

But she wouldn’t listen, because she was a star or something.”I’m not listening to you, you’re not an expert! I’m calling the vet before you do anything!”

Oy… oy… I need another vodka. I gently pushed the phone at her.

“Hello?.. hello, this is Matilda… yes, is the doctor available? It’s Very important!.. PRINCE! Stop that!!” Prince had begun gnawing at the edge of the box. I expected her to throw something at me. It was my fault that her cat wouldn’t listen to her.

“Oh, thank you, Doctor, I have a real problem! Prince has a paw caught in one of those… what is this thing called?” she said impatiently.

“It’s a roach motel.”

“It’s called a ‘roach motel’, doctor… yes, his front right paw is stuck in it…” I began to think the vet was not giving her any sympathy. “Yes… no, I don’t know… yes, of course I’ll ask.” She looked very impatient as she said to me, “The doctor wants to know, is it non-toxic?”

I pulled the wrapper out of the wastepaper basket and tried to give it to her. “I don’t want to touch it! Just show me what it says!”

I held it for her to see as she fumbled with one hand in one pocket then another till she got her glasses on, all the while holding Prince, who looked like he wanted to go to sleep.

“Yes, doctor, yes, it says non-toxic in big letters…will not harm household pets if they – yes… yes, we will do that right away. How is Sally? And the boys?.. I’m very glad to hear it… another grandson? How wonderful!..  Thank you, thank you so much for your time.”

She looked at me. She looked very serious, Very Serious. “The doctor said we need to gently remove his paw from the box, then get some warm wet paper towels and wipe his paw till it’s clean.”

I went to the men’s room, got a bunch of paper towels, and let some hot water run on them. To make myself feel better, I threatened to punch the paper towel dispenser. I held the motel and she carefully pulled his paw out, then she held him while I carefully wiped his paw off several times, while he tried to bite me. I wanted to punch the paper towel dispenser again.

“Ok, I forgive you, dear,” she said, “But I can’t believe you have your office in a building with roaches. Where I live, if anyone sees a roach the exterminator is called in the same day!”

With a sprayer full of scented water, I’d bet. “Matilda, I was reading in the paper just the other day that there probably isn’t a building in the city that doesn’t have a few roaches.”

But she was cradling the cat in her arms and cooed at him. I wouldn’t have been shocked if he tried to bite her, too.

“So, where were we, dear..?”

I reached into the desk drawer and took out two shot bottles. “Do you want a swig? “ I said. She paused to look at her watch, and said, I suppose so, it is almost three.”

A Clown

SO I decided to take a stroll around, my next client was due in in about 30 minutes – this very beautiful redhead who tap danced and sang and could juggle, stuff like that, very sexy and the guys in the clubs couldn’t get enough of her as she sang her song and shook her tuches – and I didn’t want her complaining about the smoke, so I opened the window and went out for a cigar. I earned a break, I had spent more than 20 minutes convincing a mad slasher movie producer to give one of my clients another role in another movie he was going to make. You’ll recognize her if you see her. She gets to be half naked for sex and then gets to scream. A lot.

I stopped from block to block to briefly watch the people trying to make a living at the bottom of the show business ladder, an older black fellow who played the clarinet while a toy monkey clapped together a pair of little cymbals, the guy once swore to me that he used to play in the Cab Ellington band; and a guy in white face who did some juggling and went through the usual motions of walking against the wind and sniffing an invisible flower – no thanks, I said, I’m allergic, and he put on a sad face and patted me on the shoulder, and he made fun of a few people who walked by with an odd way of walking... and of course the blind woman, if she was blind, I don’t know, who sang the same few songs about Jesus while holding out the tin cup.

And of course the usual early afternoon line of hookers looking to make their money. A redhead in jeans and a t-shirt with a couple of chess knights on it smiled at me at me as I walked into Smith’s for a shot of vodka – dumb idea really, but I ran out and the local liquor store had closed down due to a fire in the store room or something. 

What a waste – a shot in the bar cost more than buying a shot bottle at the liquor store – and he’d give me a discount if I bought a dozen at a time, which I did – and of course it cost a lot less if you bought a whole bottle, but with my clients, some of them anyway, what am I supposed to do, pass them the bottle and say ‘help yourself’? It’s a better deal to go “so we have a deal, here, have a shot’ and you pass them a shot bottle.

Anyway, it was still a nice change of scenery to sit in a bar for a few minutes and listen to the others complain about things between drinks. I looked at my watch, grabbed a few pretzels and took my leave. The redhead smiled at me again; I’ve seen her around at this corner for a while now. So I smile back and say “nice weather lately” and she says “some rain would be nice.” Strange comment, most of the hookers hate the rain.

So I get back to my office and start to think about what I need to do next, knock knock, the door opens and my prettiest redhead clients sticks her head through the opened door and say, “well, do you still have some time to talk?”

And I said, “for you, of course, come sit down." I pulled a small bag of mixed nuts from a drawer in my desk, I know she likes them.  She picked out a few cashews and politely slapped them in her mouth and then pulled a large sheet of paper from her bag.

“Ok, here is my calendar for the summer, I’m pretty much booked on the weekends until Labor Day, “she said, “and I have a few club dates. How about you find me some other work to fill in the blanks?”

Smart girl. Really good-looking, too. Guys in the clubs always fall for her, she does a really sexy song and dance routine.

“You know, “ I said, “I’m really trying to find you some work in a film or two, they keep making musicals and it pays a lot more than you make in the Catskills. I know you can do it.”

She cut me off by smacking her hand on the desk. “Look, that would be swell, but right now I need some more club dates to fill in my calendar. Let’s look for a film job after the hotels close, ok?”

I got up. “Come, “ I said, “let’s take a walk around, you like Boston cream pie? I know a place where we can have pie and coffee and talk, ok?”

She made a face, cocked her mouth to one side for a moment, then got up and said “Ok, I like that kind of stuff.” She put her calendar back in her bag and as we waited for the elevator, she said, “People sometimes see how I eat and they ask me how I keep my figure and I ask them if they have any idea how many hours a day I practice all my routines and steps on a dance floor. People really are dumb sometimes.”

So we were walking to Lenny’s, “Authentic Jewish Deli” the old sign over the store read in fading letters, and we stopped for a few minutes to watch a tall young guy in clown makeup as he juggled some tennis balls. “He’s good, “she said, “I can juggle but not like he’s doing… hey, “ she said to the guy in the clown face and he gave her an odd friendly smile. “Can you do that with knives?”

And he gave her a tired smile and said” tennis balls, golf balls, pool table balls… apples, lemons, grapefruit... cantaloupe if they’re not too heavy... big knives, small knives, flashlights, torches... street flares when I can get them but you gotta be really careful. Three or four at a time, clockwise, counter-clockwise , figure eights...”

And she said, “take a break, we’ll buy you a coffee.” What do you mean we, I thought, but I didn’t mind, he might make interesting company. He finished off, one ball in one pocket, another ball in another pocket... I don’t know why she wanted to bring him along with us but he seemed grateful for the chance to take a break.  He picked up the old hat from the sidewalk, he had a couple of dollars change in it, then he pulled a pocket watch from his oversized pants, the kind of watch you can buy for about four dollars.

“Geez, later than I thought. Thanks for the invite.”

Lenny, or whatever the owner’s name was, gave me a dirty look for coming in with a guy in clown makeup. Tissia stopped long enough to ask, “you have Boston cream pie today? Yeah? What else?” and he pointed to a display case. “Oh, that looks good,we’ll have three and coffee.”

“Three BCs and three coffees, got it, “ he said with his usual grouchy air.

The clown looked the place over before we took a booth, and he finally said, “real old fashioned place. Never been in here. Got a nice old air to it. Used to be a place like this where I grew up in Brooklyn. Grubby little place but the best pastrami and fries anywhere. When the owner died half the neighborhood turned out for the funeral.”

Lenny brought over the order and the as the clown took one plate for himself, he said, “thank you, sir.” I almost thought I saw Lenny almost smile, but he did say, “you’re welcome.”

Red took a taste and after a moment she nudged me. “This is really good, thanks for bringing me here.” The clown also took a forkful of the pie and after a moment agreed with her. He took a sip of coffee after mixing in some milk. “You know, I’m really glad you asked me along. I needed a break, I have a blister on my foot, but, you know, I gotta make a living.”

Good Boston cream pie is a good excuse for not talking for a while.

“You do anything besides juggling? “ I eventually asked, and he said, “play the guitar a little, I can sing but I don’t have a good voice, ok for doing funny songs at kids parties, I can do a cartwheel or handstand and only fall down about half the times. Kids think that’s funny, too.”

Red laughed. “Can you wait tables? You’d probably make the same money and you wouldn’t be on the street all day.”

“Brother has a place on Long Island, work there sometimes, better than being outside when the weather is really bad, helps pay the bills but I don’t like being polite to drunks."

“Me, neither,” she said. “Clubs are full of drunks, but I don’t care if they just hoot and holler at me. Watching me tap dancing in a leotard that’s half a size too small keeps them in love and the bouncer and bartender keep them in line.”

I noticed that Lenny kept giving me an occasional dirty look for bring such a guy into his respectable place. I sometimes think the roaches wash their hands when they go home at night.

“Ever try the Catskills? They have all kinds of people performing there.” Clown guy kind of let his head drop. “Tried it one summer a couple of times.” He dug the fork into the pie again. He looked thoughtful for a brief moment, then looked over his shoulder and called to Lenny, “Pie is really good. Make it or buy it?”

Lenny looked slightly less displeased for a moment. “The wife bakes a couple times a week. “ 

“Really really good, “ the clown said. “I’ll tell her she got a compliment,” he said. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile and today was no different.

“Yeah, tried it and people were polite and the people in charge would say, “you’re pretty good, but you’re not good enough. Practice some more and we’ll call you next year if we want you back.”

He was right. Lenny had a really good Boston cream pie. Coffee could have been a little stronger though. I wonder if he added some hot water to have enough for three cups.

“Even tried out when the circus had open auditions. You give them an 8 by 10 with your name and phone and address on the back. Thought they kind of liked what I did, few weeks later got the picture back from them. Said if I could pick up a few more tricks, ride a unicycle, stand on a chair and get it to balance on one leg, stuff like that, said I could try again the next time they had auditions.”

Redhead looked at him. “So what did you do?” He just looked at her and shrugged. "Money is tight, lucky if I have a few dollars at the end of the month.” He finished the pie off, added a little more milk to the coffee and drank it. “Don’t know if it’s worth it.”

Redhead gave him an almost angry look. “Don’t be stupid, go to the pawnshops and find a second hand unicycle, if it costs you thirty dollars and you make an extra two dollars a day, you get your money back in a couple of weeks.” She broke a piece of the pie crust off. I thought she was going to throw it at him, but she stuck it in her mouth. “Nice and buttery, too.”

“Suppose I should do that... yeah, tomorrow maybe..., heard it's gonna rain in the afternoon” He got up and put about a dollar in change on the table. “Nice of you to ask me to come along, appreciate it, but sometimes can barely pay the bills. Hope this is enough.”

“No problem,” Tissia said, “keep your change, Mr. Big Shot Agent will pay the tab.” I wanted to smack her. She was one of my favorite female clients, a lot of them were good looking and sexy but were lucky to have an occasional small part in low budget movies (having faked sex just before the mad slasher shows up.) A lovely redhead with a lively personality who I heard once gave a black eye to a club manager when he grabbed her backside, but I still wanted to smack her. Just once.

The clown hesitated, but seemed grateful when I said, “Go take your change, my treat.”

“Thank you,” he said, very kind of you, sir, thanks” As he was walking out, I heard him say goodbye to Lenny, who I could hear say, “Yeah.”

Redhead got up and sat across from me. “Funny fellow,” she said, “wants to be a performer that much. Do you know I have a degree in education? I love performing but I’d sooner spend the day teaching brats to read than do what he does.” She reached over for her plate and scraped off what was left with a fork. “He’s right, this is really good…”

I learned that one of the benefits of having others with you when you’re eating is that you can eat while they talk. I was down to a last bit of the crust of the pie.

“Look,” I said after a last sip of coffee, “you’re lucky, you have a lot more talent than a lot of people who want to do what you do, and you have some really good looks. The city is full of people like him, you can walk up Broadway from Wall Street to Central Park and you’ll see them on pretty much every corner. You don’t know how many clients I dropped because I just couldn’t find them work. Going on stage and pretending to do a sexy dance while you get down to a g string isn’t really a talent.”

I almost wanted another coffee. “Remember, not everyone has the talent to remember how to say things like ‘and do you want it rare, medium or well done?’”

Redhead almost laughed. “You’re such a jerk, but in a good way. Now, like I said before,” and she pulled the calendar from her bag. “Here’s my calendar from the summer...”

“Lenny,” I almost hollered, “more coffee...” 

Hot Dog

So I spent what felt like an hour on the phone arguing with a producer about a client of mine,
she had a kind of small part in a film he had done and now he was all, oh, she was so difficult
to work with, and I took a deep breath and said, she told me that she had to do a couple of
scenes a couple of times because one of your stars had flubbed some lines. And he said, yes,
but, and I said, so it wasn't her fault, and he said, but she was difficult and I said, I heard that
your star tried to blame her for him missing his lines... and long story short, he said, oh... ok, she
was all right, and I said so give her another chance, and he said, oh... ok, ok tell her to come
by tomorrow, she can pick up her script...

So I called her three or four times before she answered the phone, she said she was out
doing laundry, and I told her, good luck, I got you the part, just make sure you stop by the
same place tomorrow and pick up your script, and for God's sake just smile and say thank
you, say thank you and leave. No remarks or BS or faces, okay?

And she said, ok, thank, I love you.

She loves me. Hurray for me. It pays my bills.

And... one of my best clients calls as I am about to leave and says, hey, I just got back into
town, I'll be there in twenty minutes.

So I had 20 minutes to grab some lunch and bring it back to the office, grab an extra bag of
chips or something in case he wanted something to pick at. So I closed the door to the office
and stuck the "be back in 20 minutes" note on the door and headed off to the deli: and today I
was feeling like my idea of a chicken salad special, chicken salad on rye with some chopped
swiss and some chopped corned beef mixed in. To each his own.

"Hey"

"Hey?" I looked to my left and saw some schlep smiling at me. "Got a quarter to spare, pal?"
he said and I said, "no, didn't bring any change with me but if you catch me on the way back, I
might have a quarter to spare."

Just another of of those guys you see shuffling around the area, shabby and usually broke and
looking for either change that would add up to a cheap bottle at the nearest liquor store or --

"Hey?"

"So what do you need a quarter for? Trying to get back to Astoria?" I said and he said, "I got
15 cents, another 25 cents and I can get a hot dog, come on, gimme a little help, pal, I need
something to eat."

"I don't have any change with me, I told you. Catch me on the way back and maybe," and he
said, "ok, anything you say."

He proceeded to alternately ask other passerbys if they had any spare change and then
hurried to catch up to me.

"Yeah, I need something to eat," he said. "I just need like another 20 cents to get a hot dog,
the guy up the corner charges extra for kraut, but there's a guy the next block down gives it for
free," he said, and I finally said...

Nothing, because he was one of those many locals schleps and characters you'd see around,
and you knew he could get a meal at the Salvation Army or one of those places so it was a
good guess that he mostly wanted to get himself a bottle of Thunderbird or something like
that.

He almost stopped and pulled a newspaper from the nearly full trash can. "Look at that," he
said, "I always knew he was no good." He tossed the paper back in the trash and caught up
with me.

"You see this?" he said to me and he pulled up a kind of grimy cuff to show me that he had a
cheap watch on his wrist. "Belonged to my father, but it doesn' work anymore."

No doubt. Probably found it in the trash somewhere.

"When it worked I coulda hocked it and gotten a room for a few weeks, but it doesn' work
anymore. He's dead a long time. Momma, too. We didn' have much even then." He looked at
the wristwatch, shook his wrist a few times as if that would make anything happen, he held it to
his ear for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Yeah, belonged to my granfather, and he left it to
my father, and he left it to me. A classic timepiece."

So I said, "Look, let me go in here and get my lunch, you want a hot dog, I'll get you a hot dog,
ok?"

I remember a cartoon, two dogs chasing Sylvester the cat, and the small dog was all "Hey Alf,
Hey Alf, Hey Alf" and that was this guy, not drunk, not stoned, but very hey Hey HEY, kind of a
rapid time talking, almost too fast, you could almost see him bobbing up and down with
excitement as he spoke.

So I went in the deli, my dirty lovely old deli, owner had been there at least 25 years, had a few
autographed pictures of some celebrities behind him when he stood at the cash register.
Cash register only went up to two dollars, that's how old it was. "So you gotta bring a bum to
hang around my store?" the owner said. He was in his usual mood. I told him what I wanted,
then added, "and give me a hot dog with some kraut on it." Yeah, sure, anything for you, he
said without a word.

I glanced at the paper on the counter for a few moments. Yep, crooked politician got caught. Could
get jail, too, if he wasn't making deals with the right people.

I took my order and paid for it, went out side. The schlep was about ten feet away, trying to
grub up change off an occasion passerby. He followed me as I walked back to the office for a
few blocks until I finally said, "look here." I showed him a quarter in one hand and the hot dog
in the other and said, "pick one."

He suddenly shook his head, more of a twitch at being giving an unexpected decision to
make.  He moved his hands about in front of his chest for a moment, but he finally reached for
the hot dog.

He ate the hot dog as he followed me, noisy as it was I could almost hear him eating between "thank you" and "thank you."

About a block and a half before I got back to the office, he'd finished, and he put his hand on
my arm and said, "thank you, pal, you're a prince," and I said, "so leave me alone, I have to get
back to work." He said "thank you" again and was about to walk away when I said, "here," and
gave him the quarter. "So go get your liquor."

He smiled and walked away. Meanwhile, upstairs, my client was stinking up the hallway outside
my office with a cigar when I got off the elevator. You ignore it if it's worth it.

Luncheon

SO I had the time for a real sit-down lunch, you know, actually sitting at a table in a deli instead of just going into the deli and saying "give me a pastrami on rye" and you grab a bag of chips and a bottle of seltzer and run back to your office.

And anyway I was dining with a client, a hot young lady who I though had real potential for, you know, like slasher movies, but she was really good looking and sexy and could actually remember lines, and fifteen percent is still fifteen percent, and maybe you get lucky, you know?

So I took her to this deli near my office, a kind of old crappy place with the sign outside that hadn't been painted in probably twenty years and where you could tell the floors under the tables rarely get a good cleaning, but the food was really good for the price and the prices were decent, so we took a booth that was just big enough to fit four people, and we'd just started eating after talking for a while, me a chicken salad sandwich on rye and her a tuna salad on white, and a plate of fries between us, the usual pickle wedges and cole slaw coming with the meal, when I see this kind of shabby looking old fella comes in, and the owner behind the counter had a look on his face of 'get out of here, you bum', as the old fella was pulling his hand from his pocket and he said, "look, I got fifty cents, how about you give me fifty cents worth of cole slaw, maybe a piece of bread so I can have a little something to eat..."

And the owner was looking like, ok, fifty cents it is, and then the look was like, and then get out.

 So I waved a hand and said, "Hey, it's ok, he can sit with us."

And I said to my client, "Honey, come sit next to me," and I waved the old guy over and motioned for him to sit on the other side of the table. As the old schlep was sitting himself down, I asked him, "You want a bagel or something like that?" And he, looking like he was touched at my bit of generosity, said, "thank you, yes, with some butter, that would be very nice of you."

So the girl came around to my side of he table and the old guy eased himself into the other side of the booth. "Famous people used to sit here, people from before your time, show business people" the old guy was saying before he took a look over his shoulder to see what the owner was doing, then he carefully took a pickle wedge and pushed it into his mouth. He nodded his head as he chewed, after swallowing he said, "they have very good pickles here, real old fashioned quality."

Kat, she liked to call herself, Katherine or Mary Katherine, something like that, who was never going out without her cross and probably didn't believe any of it, rubbed my knee. "I'll tell you later," she said with a wink. I know what you're thinking and you shouldn't be thinking that, you know, I am her agent, and mixing business and pleasure is only for those with an expensive lawyer.

The busboy brought over a bagel cut in half and with butter oozing out the edges. I took the half of my sandwich I hadn't gotten to and used a knife to push some of the filling on to the plate next to the bagel. "Here, make it a little more filling." Again he was looking like he would get tears in his eyes.

He took a bite of the bagel, and after chewing and swallowing, he said, "I am descended from Eric the Red, the great Norwegian conquerer."

"Really? I would have thought you were Jewish", and Kat said, "me, too, aren't people like that, you know, like warriors?"

"Oh, hush," I said into her ear, "hush."

The old fellow was a real schlep, you know, looking like he wore clothes from a poor box, not trash you'd find in the street but second or maybe third hand stuff, but looking at him you could see he had that certain dignity and style of someone who was a failed someone.

"My father was a rabbi, and his father, and his father, but they had so many children that they didn't know what to do. I was the last of nine, and I could have been a shamas, but I..."

His face fell. "Oy," I hollered, "bring my friend a cup of coffee here," I said.

"Too many sons, and too many cousins, and so many sisters who needed for their dowries..." He fell silent, not looking up or down or at anything, just staring at whatever he saw looking between my right ear and Kat's left ear. Kat nudged me and then whispered in my ear, "he's had a terrible life, if he's telling the truth."

If. Could be.

"But it still could have been good for us, if we'd had any luck, but then the shul burned down and we had to leave. A small wooden shul in the town... papa wept for days before we left."

Kat seemed touched and almost put her hand on his. "I remember my grandmother telling me how her grandparents left Ireland when they were children because of the famine. That was a long time ago, and there was nothing to eat, but they had a little money and they managed to come to America."

"It's all too sad to talk about, long gone friends also told me about that... real entertainers they were, some of them," he said. "Anyway, the story that was handed down from parents to children was that hundreds of years ago, the Vikings raided a city in the east, someplace near Russia, near the schtetl my family came from, and one of the vikings was badly hurt and was left to die. My ancestors had made a trip to sell some chickens or ducks -- no one is sure if it was chickens or ducks -- and they found the viking by the road and took him back with them. And over some time he was able to recover some of his health and he married into the family.

He even let them, you know, like all Jewish boys have done. And that is hundreds of years ago, but you can see how I inherited my red hair and blue eyes and that is why my family name is from Eric of the Red Shield, grandson of Eric the Red, Rothschild..."

And we sat and finished our lunch without anything being said, then he pulled a coin from his pocket and let us look at it. "See this? It's a coin from my viking ancestor. I don't want to ask anyone how much I could sell it for, because I would never sell it, but it means the world to me, that I had an ancestor who was a warrior king."

Kat and I looked at the coin for a long few seconds, he let us see both sides of the coin before he put it back in his pocket. I will admit that his fingernails looked cleaner than you would think.

And he got up and said, "You have been very kind to me, I appreciate your kindness, but I must be going now, it is time for me to go and say Kaddish for my mother." As he left, I watched the owner watch him leave, he turned giving me a half dirty look for inviting such a person to sit in his fine establishment. Another fella who admires himself too much.

"I kind of thought a guy like that would be like those people you see sleeping on the subway, you know, dirty and stuff, but he was okay," she said.

"He used to be a small time actor, " I said, "the kind of guy you'd see in old movies selling newspapers, delivering mail, bit parts, things like that. Lives in a little room in one of those SROs, probably gets a check or two every month, but it's the end of the month so he's probably down to his last dollar or two. Probably made that whole thing up, bought the coin in a hock shop. Harmless."

"But what was that word he said about his mother? Cattish..?" she asked, "what does that mean?" and I said "Kaddish - it's the Jewish prayer for the dead. All about praising God."

And she said, "I remember when my mother died a couple of years ago. She smoked like two packs a day, and I asked her to stop and she smiled and shrugged it off. And I cried at the funeral mass and others said it was the will of God, and I think I told them 'fuck you.' But you were very nice to him, that's what I wanted to tell you when I rubbed your knee. "

Poor girl. Nice girl. I think I have another slasher movie for her, I gotta get back to my office.