"He's the only one who has my cell number," she joked. "The rest of them can't have it."
"How do your sad supplicants call you, then?"
"They can look me up in the book." We took the stairs down to the dining room. "Actually, there's a new guy these days," she admitted. "Not that it's necessarily going anywhere."
I watched her bounce down the steps in front of me, and felt better for having not declared my affections for her in the meat room. "Go ahead and tell me, just to make me jealous."
"Well, you know I don't eat breakfast at home." Allison sat down at one of the back tables and I joined her. Two busboys were vacuuming at the other end. "I have breakfast at this little place on the corner near my apartment. You'd think I wouldn't want to be in a restaurant, any kind of restaurant, but I like this place- and my apartment is kind of big and drafty, you know, kind of empty, even though I love my kitchen, so I go to this little place, and have an egg and toast, something to get started." Her voice was animated, excited by the story, and she'd already forgotten our intimate moment in the meat room. "So I was minding my own business, just sitting in my booth, reading the newspaper, when this big man sat down next to me with his newspaper, and he was wearing this beautiful suit, very conservative, and I said to myself, Well, okay, I might be having a little bit of a problem."
"I know where this is going," I said, secretly miserable.
"I looked at his hand and saw no wedding ring, although you can't always be sure. But I didn't say anything or look at him, I just kept reading, sort of hoping, and then I watched him order and eat his meal and he had perfect manners." She sighed, remembering. "I see a lot of people eat, I know what perfect table manners are. And then the waitress brought my check because she wanted the table. And I kind of kept sort of looking at him but he didn't see me and I had to go."
"Which you didn't like."
"No, I didn't. And he wasn't there the next day. But the day after that he was, he was sitting behind me, back to back, and I could smell him, and that- I admit it, I was having a little problem. Then he pulls out a phone and he calls someone up and I'm trying to listen as much as I can, you know." Allison smiled guiltily. "I want desperately to hear him, I want to know who he's talking to! It could be some woman, Of course. And I hear him say, 'Two-point-six million, I'm willing to do that.' That was all he said. And then he just listened and nodded and hung up. And I thought, All right, this guy is for real, you know?"
"You smelled the big money."
"I guess. I mean, I can't tell you how many fakers and braggers and jerks are out there, Bill, with their little gold pinkie rings and rented Jaguars. So now I was even more interested, I admit it. A girl has to watch out for herself, right? So I twisted around to see what he was reading. It was the Financial Times of London, which is the sexiest newspaper there is to read. Don't ask me why. Those pink pages. It's so European. So I liked that, too. I was trying to think of something to say and then he looked at his watch and got up and left. Afterward the waitresses talked about him. They liked him, too. So I was thinking, Come on, Allison, you're a smart girl, you're a catch, you know what to do. So the next day I decided I was-"
She stopped, gave me a devilish smile.
"Go on," I said. "I can take it."
"Oh, Bill, you don't want a woman like me."
"How do you know?"
"You just don't. I do terrible things. I even flirt with strange men in meat lockers." She pushed at the spoon in front of her. "I really am very, very bad, you know. Fickle and irresponsible and manipulative."
"I doubt it." And I did.
"Maybe you'll find out sometime."
"Maybe. God help me if I do. Go on with the story. You decided to-?"
"Yes. I got up early, picked out a good dress, and got down there a little early, trying to match his time of arrival. And I did! He looked up when I came in and gave me a smile. That was it. I mean I said hi or something. But I sat down feeling victorious! It's silly, but okay. Then I turned around and asked if I could borrow some of his paper. He said yes and handed it to me. And I said something like it seemed like he was starting to be a regular. Something stupid like that, totally obvious. And he said he'd just been eating there because he had meetings in the neighborhood. But soon would be done. I basically panicked and told him I ran a steakhouse downtown and would love for him to try the place as my guest."
"Very subtle."
"I didn't have a choice! I gave him my card and said please, puhl-ease call me ahead of time and-"
"You didn't say it like that."
"No, but almost. I said I'd see that he got a good table. He looked at the card and said that was great and introduced himself and we shook hands and it was all I could do not to put his thumb in my mouth." Allison smiled. "Isn't that awful?"
"Tell me the rest, even though I know what it is."
"Well, he came into the restaurant two days later- he called first and I practically had a heart attack-"
"Did I see him?"
"You weren't in that night."
"And?"
"Well, once I had him in the restaurant, I had him." She nodded to herself in satisfaction, and I was touched by her need and vulnerability. Then she saw something in my face. "Come on, I'm not your type. You like good women. Virtuous, dependable women."
"You should've met my ex-wife."
"I wish I had."
"You would've liked her."
"Would she have liked me?"
I thought about this. "No."
"Why not?"
Too confident. But I didn't say this aloud. "So, did you see this guy again?"
"Yup," Allison said, "you could say that."
"All the other pretenders are gone, then?"
"Yes." She nodded and recrossed her legs the other way. "Banished."
An hour later I was at Table 17 when I looked up to see the owner, Lipper, in his wheelchair and accompanied by his nurse, an older black woman. He frowned as he passed me and paddled his feet on the floor to stop. "You work for me?"
I shook my head. "Just a loyal customer."
"Ah, good, very good. You like steak?"
"Your hanger steak, especially."
"Good." Lipper edged closer. Hair whirlpooled in his ears, his bottom eyelids sagged forward pinkly. "People still like steak."
"Always will, I think."
He threw a bony finger at me. "I know you. Heard you were a friend of Allison's. Talk with her on my time, too. You're a lawyer, is that it?"
"I suppose."
He showed a lot of old horse teeth at this. "Last I heard, lawyers worked in law offices, but okay. Allison likes to keep her men nearby so she can keep an eye on them, heh! I've seen her over the years… she's got all the moves, let me tell-" He looked around the room, as if hearing someone suddenly call his name. "Yeah, anybody can serve a steak! You burn some cow meat and put it on a plate. Plus the city has a bunch of great steakhouses, right? There's Smith and Wollensky, and Keen's- what a beauty that place is- and Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. These places make a damn fine steak. But we're a little different, a little special. Sinatra owned this place for a while, back in the sixties. You know that? Lot of girls. Revolving pussy, I always called it. Pussy coming, pussy going." I saw in Lipper the happy mouth-energy of the old, in which all thoughts rise to the surface unrestrained by propriety or forethought. "We went out together a few times, me and Frank. Yeah, he saw this place, said he just had to have a place like that. I guess he might have sung here a few times-" Lipper poked at his testicles excitedly, as if trying to balance one on top of the other. "I was a young man. We never advertise this place, see. Don't have to. We got it just right. Allison's very good. Of course her little room is illegal, her little show in there, I mean. She's very careful, never had a problem. She told you about it, right? She explains the whole story, gets them intrigued. I'm too old but I'd do it, too, if I were younger. Just to experience it. I know it's illegal. Who cares? Half the best part of life is illegal! Sue me, I always say. You going to arrest an old man in a wheelchair? Lock me away? You tell men you got a special room down there and it's like honey to the bees, guy- oh, she doesn't want me to talk about it. What was your name, Rogers? I had a doctor named Rogers, fixed my toes. Wait, I got to take a pill- I got this beeper thing that tells me-"