“A bottle of Senate and shot of rye. Make the rye that Pete Hagen’s up there on the shelf.”
The bartender served both neatly on two cocktail napkins. Karras threw the shot back at once. He chased the rye with beer and lighted a cigarette. A paw landed on his shoulder. Karras glanced to his right; the hand was slightly smaller than Rhode Island. Face had a seat on the stool to the right.
“You mind?” said Face.
“Hell, no.”
“Thanks for the round, Pete.”
“Sure thing. Face. That your wife?”
“Yeah.”
“I never had the pleasure. She’s a looker.”
Face blushed. “I tell her that, you’re gonna make her night.”
“Then tell her,” said Karras.
Face ordered a rum and Coke for himself, signalled the bartender to pour Karras another shot. They tapped glasses and drank. Karras blew a smoke ring over the bar.
“How’s business?” he said, looking straight ahead.
“All right, I guess,” said Face carefully. And then, by way of an apology said, “It ain’t exactly like I’m on the decision end of things. You know that, Pete.”
“Sure, Face. I know.”
Face looked down at Karras’s twisted knee. “You know, Pete...”
“What?”
“Aw hell, Karras, I’m too damn drunk.”
“I’m three sheets myself.”
“It’s just that, you ought to know... about Recevo, I mean.”
“What about him?”
“I never was no fan of his, you know that. But you ought to know that what happened that night with Reed and the others, in that alley... it wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”
“How’s that?”
“Mr. Burke never told Reed to mess you up as bad as he did. He never told him to take no bat to your leg—”
“What about Joe, Face?”
Face took a long swallow from his drink. “I was in the office that night, when Joe called from the bar. Mr. Burke didn’t give Recevo no choice — it was either deliver you to Reed to get slapped around, or they were going to take you out. All the way out, Karras, get it? They woulda killed Joe, and you, if it hadn’t gone the way they said. Reed was only supposed to slap you around, that’s all.”
“So Joe was just tryin’ to save his skin.”
“And yours.”
“You tellin’ me that Joe saved my life? Is that it?”
Face nodded. “Yeah.”
“Look at me, Face. You saw me draggin’ my leg across this dining room a few minutes ago. How did I look? Did I look alive to you?”
Face stared into his drink. “Christ, Karras. I was only tryin’ to set you straight, that’s all.”
Karras smiled to himself, shook his head. He took some tobacco into his lungs. “You’re all right, Face, you know it? For the life of me, I don’t know why a guy like you stays with Burke.”
Face chuckled from somewhere deep in his gut. “Now it’s your turn to look at me. I’m big and I’m ugly and I’m just plain dumb. Workin’ muscle is the only thing I’m good for. What else would I do?”
“Well...” Karras cleared his throat, touched the mole next to his mouth. “I oughta get back to my wife.”
“I better do the same. The drinks are on me, Pete.”
“Thanks, chum.”
Face dropped money on the bar. Karras drained his shot. He closed his eyes, dragged deeply on his cigarette. The blare of Jack Schafer’s trumpet exploded in his head.
26
Bender removed his topcoat, draped it across the back of a free chair. He had a seat in front of Burke’s desk, crossed one leg over the other, smoothed out the fine fabric of his suit trousers down to the knee.
“Have a good night out at La Fontaine’s?” said Burke.
Bender cocked his head. “I lost a hand or two. Thought I’d take a break, come over and see what you had on your mind. I’ll head back over the line after this, see if I can’t win some of it back. You know how I hate to leave money lying on the table.”
“Drink?” said Burke.
“What’re you having?”
“A little bourbon.”
“Bourbon’s fine. But yours looks a little dark to me. Cut mine with water, will you?”
“Reed,” said Burke, making a head motion toward the liquor cart.
Reed went to the cart, fixed a bourbon and water for Bender, dropped a couple of ice cubes in the glass. He carried the bottle over to Burke’s desk, because he knew that Mr. Burke would want the bottle close by, and then he placed the drink in Bender’s hand. Reed didn’t care to build drinks for anybody, and he especially didn’t like putting one together for a swish. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his sharkskin suit, continued pacing the room.
Two other men in topcoats stood by the door: a red-haired pug with a beat-to-shit nose and a dark-skinned joker too big for his suit. Reed pegged the dark-skinned one as an Italian or some other variety of white nigger, but the reality was that the big man, who was called Moon, hailed from London. These two men were Bender’s. Recevo sat at the big table, where he always sat, always alone.
“We walked right in the front door,” said Bender. “I was expecting to see that giant of yours. What was his name?”
“Face.”
“Where is he, out gathering bananas?”
“He took his wife to a show. Some midget act they got over at Casino Royal.”
“Midgets, huh? Charming. You know, Burke, you ought to introduce your men to some real culture. Take me and those two by the door, for example. Sure, we’re down here gambling. But we’ve also reserved tickets, two nights from now, to a play by the name of Hamlet. It’s running at the Little Theatre. You know where that is, don’t you?”
“I know where it is. On 9th above F.”
“Then you’ve been there! Maybe you’d like to come along.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Larry Olivier’s in the title role.”
Larry. Recevo looked over at Bender, bright-eyed and grinning in his seventy-five-dollar suit, a derby in one hand, a leather flower in his lapel. The guy was all over the place with his fluttery hands, and when he spoke it was up and down in tone, like he was singing a song or something. Fruit or no, this Bender was a real piece of work.
“I’ll pass,” said Burke.
“As you wish.”
Burke poured his fourth bourbon into his glass. Some of the bourbon missed the inside of the glass and splashed onto the desk. Burke wiped it away with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Listen, Bender. I don’t want to waste any more of your time tonight. Let me tell you why I asked you to drop by.”
Bender nipped at his drink, jingled the cubes in the glass. “Go ahead.”
Burke started in. Recevo pulled his deck of Raleighs, lighted a cigarette. He smoked through Burke’s pitch. By the time Recevo felt the heat of the burning end near his fingers, Burke was done.
“It seems straightforward enough,” said Bender. “Shall we discuss compensation?”
“Two hundred flat if he tumbles.”
Bender frowned. “Is that fair? I take a flat fee and you collect protection money from the Greek in perpetuity.”
“It’s my town. Bender. Maybe when I’m up in Philly I’ll do the same for you.”
Bender brushed some imaginary lint off his trousers. “Maybe you shall.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“All right. But you haven’t mentioned the odds. I never make a move without hearing the odds.”
“Joe,” said Burke. “How many men at the Stefanos joint?”
Recevo thought it over. “Anywhere from three to five if you count the bouncer. My take is the bouncer will fade.”
“But it’s only the three of us on this trip,” said Bender. “I can’t say that those are odds I like.”