A black female hand appeared over his shoulder, graceful as a falling leaf, the tiny red pill floating on a soft, milk-chocolate palm. He plucked it up and clapped it into his mouth, where a thick tongue came down and swept it inward like the crushing device in the back of a garbage truck. "I can swallow them dry. Okay, where washoney and bees… Sinatra, oh. Allison knows this. She knows more about men, studied them, I mean we got good selections, good cuts, heh. Lots of men. She's had a lot of them, too." He leaned forward, dropped a knuckled paw on my arm and spoke conspiratorially. "Let me give you some advice, son, because I see her paying attention to you. I see what's going on. You got a nice way about you, that's why I'm telling you this. I'm an old man, better listen to me. Don't fall for her. Right? I mean, don't give in, don't make a fool of yourself. She wants you to. She'll play with you, she'll find your weakness. Let her stew, let her get frustrated and emotional- that's when you put in the sword! Right? It's the guys who aren't interested who excite her. I've seen it over and over! The guys that come out and declare themselves, she can't stand them! Plays with them, tortures them! She's got some moves on her most men never heard of!" His eyes brightened wickedly and for a moment I glimpsed the charming younger man he'd once been. "I had a rich guy suicidal for her once! I tell him, you can buy all the pussy you want, what's the big deal? He took my advice, went to the islands for few weeks with a bunch of little blond fluffy-muffies, heh! Allison, she never blinked. What does she care? I guess he got over it. What's your name again? Woodrow? Never mind, I'll forget, anyway… So that's the kind of place I run, simple as that. It's a special. I tell you Sinatra owned this place? Back in the sixties, in fact. Yeah, I bought this place back in the seventies, when you couldn't give it away! That's when I stepped in. Yes, stepped in and stepped up. I don't do any of the work anymore, just come and watch my babies eat and drink and have a good time. We had a lot of the greats in here, let me tell you. Wilt Chamberlain when he was in town, he had them lining up, they'd never seen someone like him before, Sonny and Cher, Joe Frazier- the boxer, Clint Eastwood, Redford, Billy Crystal, politicians, we had everybody, that guy Puffy Brush, whoever, heh. I just watch now. I don't need the money. I was a good businessman in my time. I did my deals, I signed in ink, baby. Not many people like that left these days! Everybody wants the cushion under their asses. Not me. I worked! I'm a fossil. Made of stone, heh. Parts of me still are. Don't look surprised. It still works! Two hundred milligrams of this new stuff they got and watch out. Once a month's all I need. I have a friend. She's very understanding, comes around my apartment. She's a certain age, okay? We like each other. She takes her time. Happy to lie down or just drink jizz." Again the horse teeth, the squinting, amused eyes. "We don't comment too much on human nature here, see. Accept human frailty- that's my philosophy. Shouldn't shock you. You'll be the same, I guarantee. I didn't age gracefully, and that's fine with me. My secret is the omega-three oils. Only the best, made from the littlest fishies! The big ones, tuna and swordfish, too much mercury." He patted my arm urgently. "I know you like Allison, they all do, I can see it in your face, I've seen you in here, fella. You hang on to your mustard, that's my advice. She's smarter than both of us put together. Back in the day I myself could've given her a-"
His old nurse bent close to him and whispered.
"Don't say that to me! You work for me, you-"
Without a word, she rolled Lipper away, and like a child in a stroller he accepted her judgment passively, not bothering to say goodbye, instead eager for his next encounter.
I might have found good reasons to worry in Lipper's monologuehis vague references to the illegality of the Havana Room, to Allison's romantic manipulations- but I didn't, and not just because his words seemed the harmless and even touching ramblings of an old restaurateur edging toward senility. After all, much as I liked Allison, I was not actually involved with her. Having been around awhile, she and I both knew that the other had at least the usual biographical complications. Sure, I was jealous that she'd found a new guy, but I was also just glad to see her each day, satisfied to watch her from a distance as she adjusted her glasses or slipped a bit of hair behind her ear, any of the lovely little things that women do, and if I had been asked if I was getting to know Allison at least passably well, I'd now have answered yes. Moreover, my hours at the steakhouse proved such a pleasant distraction from the rest of my time- in my horrid apartment, feeling guilty about Wilson Doan, missing my son, listening to my similarly doomed neighbors scrape up and down the stairs- that I had no reason to dwell on Lipper's egomaniacal rant.
But that began to change one cold night in late February, long after I'd finished my dinner, when Allison came over to Table 17.
"Going already?" she asked, standing before me, heels together, her voice a little nervy.
"In a minute, maybe."
She looked at her watch. The time was nearly eleven. "Any chance you could stay a while?"
"Stay?"
She smiled. "I'll ply you with coffee or drinks or desserts and anything else we serve."
I told her I was full. "What do you need?"
Allison took a breath. "Remember I told you I met that guy?"
"Sure. You wanted to put his thumb in your mouth."
"Anyway, his name is Jay Rainey, and he called me a few minutes ago, and he needs a lawyer."
"The phone book is full of lawyers, Allison."
She shook her head. "No, no, Bill, he needs one tonight."
"Tonight?"
"He needs one now."
"Why? Did he get arrested?"
She sat down at my table, which was unusual, considering the restaurant was full. "It's something to do with- well, Jay's been trying to buy this building downtown and the seller is sort of this jerk, I guess, who's been really hard to deal with, and anyway, now the seller says they have to have a finished sale by midnight tonight or the deal's off."
I shook my head. "That's a bluff."
"That's what I thought, too, but Jay says the seller is telling the truth. It's a tax situation or something and-"
"Doesn't Jay have a lawyer?"
"That's the thing. Jay was planning to use his regular lawyer when the papers were ready, but not until then and then this evening the seller just presents him with the contract."
"What's the selling amount?"
Her eyes widened. "It's three million dollars, I think."
Not much. A tiny amount by Manhattan standards. "They've got some kind of deal worked out already?"
"I guess."
"Jay shouldn't sign it, not under this kind of pressure."
"I thought that, too," Allison said, nobody's fool.