Sure, there’s a copy of Case of the Half-Wakened Wife by that Perry Mason writer underneath your glass of iced Seagram’s, its paper cover soaking up the glass’ condensation like a three-dollar coaster.
You’ve tried the novel once or twice poolside. But the crack between pages one and two is a testament to your education career. PS 15, Red Hook, Brooklyn, sixth grade marked the end of your schooling. Reading the book is like pulling nose hairs.
You try again.
“…the man was smiling now and his voice was almost patronizing…”
Patronizing, you learn from Webster’s, is: “displays a feeling of superiority.”
Yeah. Mickey’s kinda superior himself, has to be, he’s the boss. You and Mickey come from the neighborhood, so there’s respect.
Who really gets you are the educated Jews in Mickey’s clan like Elliot Mintz, Mickey’s lawyer.
If Mickey knows how to talk to the boys, Mintz doesn’t. Elliot Mintz treats you worse than the kitchen help.
Onto the book: “…as he recited glibly…”
Glibly: fancy but shallow talk. Just like Elliot Mintz.
What gets you about these novels, though, is how they depict the so-called underworld of hoodlums.
Er redt narishkeytn, as his mother would say. Foolishness. If this is how some fancy writer thinks people talk and behave, that’s not for you.
You put the book down and the drink on top. Mostly you watch.
Mickey called you long distance
Mickey called from Los Angeles before bringing you out from New York. You still remember the crackle of the call.
“Maxie, reason I’m bringing you is you’re professional. I need someone to stick to the straight and narrow. Not these bums I’ve had go out on their own, do stupid things. You hear me?”
“I got you.”
“I bring a guy out, it’s the cost of doing business. Set him up. Apartment. Car. Give him cash to start out with. That is a business expenditure. Follow?”
“You want it to pay off.”
“What you are is clean. I need an associate clean as a whistle.”
“That’s what I am. Clean.”
“I know you had your problems. But L.A. is different. Get a new start here.”
