Bone in the Throat - Anthony Bourdain [93]
"I really want one a these for the restaurant," said Harvey. "It could be a signature kind of thing. People would know us for it. And it's light. That's the thing—it's light. It's not fried or sauteed or anything. You just season the thing, slap it on there, and it cooks. People can watch it goin' round an' round. It's right there in front of'em. That's gonna be the key to the new menu. Light cooking . . . No butter, no heavy sauces. Nothing fattening. Lotta chicken. You ever notice how much chicken gets ordered? It's the ladies, they order the chicken. Chicken, salad, fish. We get one a these things, maybe we get one of those grills with the volcanic rocks, throw some a that mesquite in there. We'll be back in business. That's all we need. We'll be beatin' 'em away with a fuckin' stick."
Harvey's face shone under the track lighting. He took a napkin off a tray full of Hawaiian chicken kabobs and wiped his face. "I gotta go to the can," he said.
Victor started to say something, hesitated, and then looked at his watch again. "Hurry up, alright?" he said. "Don't be all fuckin' day in there. I gotta see somebody later. You wanna meet at the door?"
Harvey looked around the room again. "How about I meet you over there by the grills . . . It's on the way out. I just wanna take a quick peek at this thing. I'll be there in a few minutes, alright?"
Victor made a face and threw his hands up, exasperated.
"WHERE'S HE GOIN'?" said Detective Czerny.
"He's headed for the can, I think," said Alvarez. "Should we split up? I take him, you keep an eye on the other guy?"
"We got a good position here. We can keep an eye on both. We split up, we get lost in the crowd, we'll never hear the end of it. HEY—get me one a those fish sticks!"
ALONE IN THE TOILET stall, Harvey took a Sno-Seal of cocaine from his jacket pocket, dumped most of it onto the back of his hand, and snorted it. He licked the remaining crumbs and ran his tongue around over his gums.
When he left the toilet cubicle, he checked his appearance in the mirror. There was a large white smudge under his nose, and he wiped it with a tissue from his pocket. He threw some cold water in his face, dried off with a hand towel, and left the bathroom.
Just outside the bathroom door, he looked around for a phone. There was a pay phone to his left, but Harvey rejected it. Down a flight of steps, behind a column, he found another one. He took a handful of change out of his pants pocket and made a call.
"Hello," said the voice on the other end.
"This is Moses," said Harvey. "Lemme speak to Al. Now."
"Alright, he's been expecting you. Hang on just a second. I'll connect you."
When Al came on the line, he sounded distracted.
"Hi. . . uh . . . What's up?"
Harvey started right in on him. "That's it. I've had it. I can't take anymore. You gotta get me out."
"Whoa. . . Slow down," said Al. "Slow down. What's the big problem?"
"What's the problem? What's the problem? I'm hiding in a fuckin' phone booth like a fuckin' fugitive. This Victor person, this creep they got babysittin' me, is out there somewhere wanderin around the fuckin floor wonderin' where I am . . . I can't take it. I can't take it anymore."
"Wait a second. Where are you? You at the Javits thing?"
"Yeah, yeah . . . I'm at the Food Show. I thought I'd get a little fuckin' peace and quiet here, look at some things I wanna get for the restaurant—they send this, this killer, this animal with me. This guy won't let me fuckin' breathe. I can hardly take a fuckin' piss without the guy wantin' to hold my dick."
"So where does he think you are right now?"
"I said I hadda go to the bathroom."
"Where is he?"
Harvey looked nervously around him, peeking out from behind the column. "I think he's over by a display. I told him I'd meet him. I don't have long. You gotta get me outta here."
"You're not wearin' the wire or anything, right?"
"Are you crazy? Are you crazy? You think I'm outta my fuckin' mind? I don't wanna live? That, that animal, the other animal, he tore my clothes apart lookin'