Bone in the Throat - Anthony Bourdain [102]
"But you're not so sure," said Benson.
"I'm not so sure," said Danny.
"It would be better for everybody if you could be sure."
"I'll talk to the man," said Danny. He took a thick manila envelope out of his jacket pocket and left it on the table when he got up. "Thanks for seeing me on short notice," said Danny.
"That's perfectly alright," said Benson. "Anytime."
Forty
CHERYL WAS HUMMING the "Final Jeopardy" theme in the shower. She used it, Tommy knew, to time the conditioner after she shampooed her hair. He listened, smiling to himself, for a few seconds before his thoughts returned to Al and when it was that he was going to call him.
The phone rang, and Tommy was grateful for the interruption. He didn't like thinking about Al. He picked up the phone thinking he'd call him tonight.
It was the chef calling.
"They closed the restaurant for the week," he said.
Tommy was taken aback. "No shit! How come?"
"Closed for renovations. Victor called."
"So, we don't have to go in? What about the food? It'll go bad."
"I don't know. They want us to come in today. Just you and me. They want to have a meeting, talk about the menu, some changes."
"Uh-oh," said Tommy.
"Yeah," said the chef.
"What time?"
"Eleven . . . Listen, is Cheryl there? They probably tried to reach her at home. Tell her she doesn't have to go in today, I guess they'll get back to her on the schedule. You want to meet at the corner of West Broadway and Spring? We can go in together."
"Yeah, sure."
"See you there at eleven."
WHEN TOMMY and the chef walked in the door, Sally, Victor, and the Count were seated at a table in the front cocktail area, examining a stack of payroll sheets and invoices. Skinny sat apart from them at the bar, drinking coffee from a glass and leafing through the paper.
The Count gave them both a big smile. "Tommy," he said. "Have a seat!" Victor pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet to intercept the chef.
"Hey, chef," he said. "Why don't we go downstairs. There's some things I wanna talk about with you."
The chef shot Tommy a curious look and followed Victor across the empty dining room.
Tommy took this as an ominous sign. He looked around the room for Harvey. He saw only Skinny at the bar, which gave him no comfort. He sat down in Victor's chair, across from the Count, painfully aware of Skinny's presence behind him.
"Where's Harvey?" Tommy asked.
"He ain't comin' in I don't think," said Sally. "Vic said he wasn't feelin too good yesterday." At the bar, Skinny made a snorting sound that could have been a laugh.
The Count was wearing reading glasses. He pushed them up over his large, liver-spotted forehead. He sighed melodramatically and moved his hands over the pile of papers in the center of the table.
"Tommy, this place is a fuckin' mess. We been goin' over some papers, me and your uncle, and you wouldn't believe how bad things are. We're gonna be makin' some changes . . . " He smiled obsequiously at Sally. "Yer uncle here has axed me to come over and see what I can do to help out, try and get this fuckin place back on its feet."
Tommy, thinking of the chef downstairs alone with Victor, tried to keep from wincing. Here it comes, he thought.
"This place been losing money like it was nothin," said the Count. "This guy Harvey's run the fuckin' place inta the fuckin ground. He owes everybody. You got no idea . . ."
He owes Sally, Tommy was thinking. That's what this is about.
"He owes rent, he owes for food, half these guys want COD now . . . He owes power, gas, water. They're this fuckin' close to shuttin' off the telephone . . . This can't go on."
Tommy nodded politely, trying to tune in on what the Count was really saying. Were they going to close the restaurant? Was that what this was about? Was the Count going to buy it? Villa Nova II?
Tommy examined Sally's expression. He looked relaxed, his dark, close-together eyes narrowed to lazy slits; he was leaning back