Bone in the Throat Read Free

friends but not friends like we're friends. You just let them haul your trash for you and then you pay them on time. You don't do no more than that with them. Somebody from them comes around and says they want to do something else with you and you come tell me. Right?"
    "Sure," said Harvey "You understand that?" asked Sailv.
    "I understand," said Harvey.
    "Okay, how are we gonna straighten out this problem here that we got?" asked Sally.
    "Maybe if you can wait another week," said Harvey.
    "Listen," said Sally, raising his voice, "you're not even making the fuckin vig here and you're talking maybe'? You're saying next week'? This is not a next week' situation. I like you, Harvey, you're a nice guy. You did nice work that time on my niece's teeth and all. You gave my nephew Tommy a job. I appreciate it. But the way things are . . ."
    "How about steaks?" Harvey said hopefully. "I got some beautiful shell steaks down there in the walk-in. I got lobster tails—"
    "I don't want any fuckin' steaks," said Sally, his voice rising. "What the fuck am I gonna do with fuckin' steaks? I'm up to my ass in fuckin' steaks anytime I fuckin' want 'em! You've gotta do better than that. I'm not playin' with you here. This is serious. It's three fuckin' weeks. The man wants his money. He wants it regular. You understand where we are here?"
    "I just don't know what I can do," said Harvey, looking defeated behind his desk. "I don't know what else I can do."
    "I can tell you what we're gonna do," said Sally. "I—me personally—am going to cover you for this week. Out of my own pocket. This week only. This once. And next week . . ."
    Sally reached across the desk and grabbed a handful of his cheek. Harvey noticed how the gold Piaget watch on Sally's wrist hung like a charm bracelet over his hand. Then Sally started to bounce his head off the desk, and he could hear his glasses breaking.
    Harvey dabbed at his bloody nose with a crumpled tissue. Sally stood across the room examining Harvey's face with a clinical detachment.
    "We're not playing around here anymore," he said. "I'm not gonna get jerked off again. No more next weeks' outta you, you lit tie prick. No more I'll do my bests'. Just get me my fucking money Get it on time. Borrow it. Steal from your partners. Go back to pulling fucking teeth if you got to. This is serious. You seen The Godfather, right?"
    Harvey nodded.

Three
    H ARVEY STOOD , head tilted back, in front of the restaurant's bathroom mirror, pressing a tissue to his nose. He was bleeding from both nostrils and was a little swollen over one eye. He rocked back and forth in front of the mirror saying, "Son of a bitch, son of a bitch." He noticed, from the corner of his eye, that the flowers in the vase by the sink were beginning to wilt. The lilies looked fine. Holding the tissue under his nose with one hand, he turned the vase around with the other so that the irises faced the rear. He took a long piss and saw that the porter had missed a spot in the urinal, and that the white hockey puck had melted down to the size of a Life Saver. He checked the inside of the toilet stall. There was no extra roll of paper.
    Harvey left the bathroom, muttering under his breath. He walked across the empty dining room to the ice machine by the bar and filled a dinner napkin with some ice. He held it over his nose.
    The interior of the Dreadnaught was fitted out like the lounge of an ocean liner. In fact, the fixtures, the zinc bar, the sconces, the curved banquettes, even the china and the silver, were from an old cruise ship. Harvey had bought the whole lot at auction. There were seats for forty customers in the back dining room, another twenty in the front cocktail area by the picture window. Two enormous murals, painted in the Social Realist style, ran the length of the restaurant. They depicted brawny, square-jawed dockworkers working on the New York waterfront of the 1930s. The murals matched the restaurant's color scheme, shades of black,