What's in It for Me? Read Free

taut. She seemed to notice it for the first time.
    â€œWhat’s all this piling and wrapping and tying? What are you going to do?”
    â€œDon’t worry about me so much,” I said. “I’ve got a couple of irons in the fire.”
    The pals-together attitude collapsed with a bang.
    â€œLook out you don’t put the fire out,” she snapped.
    â€œThat’s another thing you don’t have to worry about. I manage to keep hot.”
    I reached for the bundle of books on the dresser. She followed me with her eyes.
    â€œWhat are you doing, Harry?”
    I hesitated for a moment. Then I figured what the hell. She might as well know.
    â€œYou’re right about that three months of loafing, Martha. Women aren’t enough of a career for any man. So what chance does one woman stand?” I took a card from my pocket and tossed it into her lap. “From now on I’m going to be busy during the day. If you want to reach me, you can get me at that number. At night, of course, I’ll still be right over there.” I pointed to the empty bed. “For the time being, anyway.”
    She picked up the card.
    â€œCertain Service, Inc.,” she read. “Resident Buyers.” She looked up at me curiously. “What’s that?”
    â€œThat’s me. I’m taking myself out of storage and moving into my new office now.”
    She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.
    â€œHarry!” she said. “What—?”
    â€œI’m in a hurry now. I’ve got work to do.” I opened the door. “Maybe, if I’m in a good mood, I’ll pick you up at the theatre after the performance tonight and explain it to you.”

2.
    I GOT OUT ON the eighteenth floor of the loft building and walked down the hall looking for the right place. When I found it, I stopped for a moment to compare the name on the door with the name on the list in my order book. Koenig & Probst, Inc., Misses’ Dresses. It was the right place. I pushed through the swinging doors and went into the showroom. I walked into one of the empty booths and sat down. I put my leather order book on the table and pushed my hat to the back of my head. Then I lit a cigarette and waited.
    In a few minutes a guy came over.
    â€œYes, sir?” he said. “What can I—?”
    â€œI’d like to see Mr. Koenig.”
    The smile set a little and the eyebrows cracked in the middle like pup tents.
    â€œWell, I—” he began. “I don’t know if—”
    I took out a card and dropped it on the table in front of him.
    â€œIt’s very important,” I said. “I must see Mr. Koenig personally.”
    â€œCertain Service,” he said as he picked up the card. “Well, I’ll tell Mr. Koenig you’re here, Mr.—?”
    â€œJust show him the card,” I said. “He’ll see me.”
    â€œAll right,” he said. “I’ll tell him.”
    â€œI’ll be waiting right here,” I said.
    I caught the tail end of his dirty look as he disappeared around the partition of the booth, carrying my card. A few moments later the card came around the partition again. This time the man attached to it looked all right. He was a little shorter and a lot fatter and twice as sloppily dressed and he didn’t have any waves in his hair because he was bald.
    â€œMr. Koenig?” I said.
    â€œYeah,” he said slowly, looking at the card in his hand, “but—?”
    I grinned and held out my hand.
    â€œBogen’s the name,” I said. “Bogen of Certain Service.”
    â€œHow do you do, Mr. Bogen,” he said, still hesitating. “But, uh, Mr. Pepper. Mr. Pepper is the one I—I mean. I usually—”
    â€œMr. Pepper is in Florida,” I said. “I bought him out a coupla days ago and he left right away. I took over his whole list of clients and I’m doing the buying for them