Standup Guy Read Free Page A

intentions. Now, everybody grab a seat, if you can find one, and start asking me questions.”
    Stone sat quietly and marveled at how knowledgeable, fluent, concise, and witty Kate was when fielding the questions. She was going to be great on the road and in town hall meetings. The questions went on for an hour, then there was another half hour of chatting, exchanging of business cards, and congratulating Kate. Stone was the last to leave.
    “I thought that went just perfectly,” he said to Kate at the door.
    “I thought so, too, Stone, and thank you for being here and helping me in Will’s absence.”
    “I’m very glad to be here, and I’ll be very glad to help in any way I can. Let me know when you need my check.”
    They hugged and kissed, and Stone left the apartment feeling that he had been part of something historic. As he waited for the elevator, the doors opened and Will Lee stepped out. “How did it go?” he asked, then threw up a hand. “No, I don’t want to know.”
    “How was Chris Botti?”
    “Brilliant.”
    “So was Kate.”
    Will clapped his hands over his ears, and Stone got onto the elevator, laughing.
    When he got home, he found a pocket recorder and dictated an account—everything he could remember about the evening.
    He went to bed excited.

4
    Stone took his breakfast tray off the dumbwaiter, along with the two morning papers, the
New York Times
and the
Daily News
.
    As he ate his eggs and bacon he went over the lead stories of both papers: not a word about last night’s event. He switched on the TV and was greeted by the sight of the president leaving the Blue Note. A local reporter stuck a microphone in his face.
    “Mr. President, where’s the first lady? Couldn’t you get a date?”
    Will laughed. “She had a dinner date with somebody else,” he said.
    “And who was that?”
    “She wouldn’t tell me.” He got into the waiting SUV and drove away.
    • • •
    Immediately after Stone reached his desk, Joan buzzed. “John Fratelli to see you.”
    “Again?”
    “He says it’s urgent.”
    “All right, send him in.”
    Fratelli appeared in the doorway, still carrying his suitcase.
    Stone waved him in. “So, Mr. Fratelli, why aren’t you at a bank opening an account?”
    “I tried,” Fratelli said, holding up his suitcase to display three bullet holes.
    “Are you hurt?”
    “The money stopped the rounds,” he said. “I wasn’t heeled, so all I could do was hide behind my bag.”
    “Did you call the police?”
    “I didn’t think that was such a good idea.”
    “I see your point,” Stone said. “What bank did you go to?”
    “One on the corner of Forty-second and Third. I forget the name.”
    “And you never got inside?”
    “No.”
    “Any idea who shot at you?”
    “We’re still under lawyer confidentiality?”
    “Yep.”
    “I don’t know if you’re old enough to remember,” Fratelli said, “but a long time ago, some guys stuck up a freight terminal at JFK and walked away with a big crate full of money that was being shipped to a foreign bank.”
    “I’m old enough to remember,” Stone said. “And I suppose your friend Buono was one of them?”
    “He was their leader,” Fratelli said, “and some of them were unhappy with their cut. Eddie took half, something like seven million, and the others split the rest. They got away clean, andEddie told them all to lie low for eighteen months, not to buy anything expensive or showy, just to live regular, you know?”
    “I know,” Stone said.
    “Well, all of a sudden half a dozen bookies in Brooklyn got paid what they were owed, so right away, the street knew who pulled the job. Then one of them bought a red Cadillac convertible, and all of a sudden there were cops everywhere.”
    “As I recall, the busts came only a couple of weeks after the robbery,” Stone said.
    “That’s right.”
    “Mr. Fratelli, it sounds like what you’re telling me is that Eddie didn’t spend any of his half of the