Bobby Gold Stories by Anthony Bourdain Read Free Book Online

out of this nice XJ I happen to know about. Thing's a year old. Practically new. I give it to this Fish asshole
     at fuckin' cost. This kid I got working for me? He's used to taking cars, Bobby. To order. The whole fuckin' car. Not rootin'
     around under the fuckin' hood like some kid who's just beggin' to get grabbed. I made a couple a calls to some people and
     asked about this Eddie fuckin' Fish that's supposed to be such a big shot? And you know what they told me? 'Fuck him.' Do
     what you can. But don't bend over backwards, you know what I mean? I did the right thing." Lenny took a long draught of beer
     and shook his head. "What are you doing hanging around with that fuck, Bobby? From what I hear? He's gonna get fuckin' clipped
     any day now. The people he thinks he's such friends with? They ain't such good friends." He took another long slug from the
     can and stared at Bobby while he finished his thought, eyes getting hard. "Not like us."
    On the floor, Lenny's little brother stirred. Holding his throat, he raised up on one elbow and stared at Lenny and Bobby
     sitting amiably together. "What the fuck?" he rasped.
    "Be cool, bro'," said Lenny, his voice betraying no concern. "You just stay where you is — right there."
    "Fuck that!" said not-so-little brother, managing to clamber onto all fours. "I'm gonna —"
    "You ain't gonna do nothin', Frankie," said Lenny. "Unless you want me to get outta this chair and give you the biggest asswhuppin'
     a your life. You wake the kid and I'm gonna be real mad at you, little bro' . . . Real mad."
    "Listen, Bobby," said Lenny. "As you can see, things are gettin' a little tense and all around here. Tell you what. Tomorrow?
     You tell that little Christ-killer you work for to come round with his fuckin' Jag. Me and little brother put a nice shiny
     new one in for him, no charge. Cause it's you? I'm happy to do it. But after that, I don't want to see him no more. Next time
     he comes around here? There might be some folks waitin' for him. Guy's a fuckin' insect. I don't care what he tells you. The
     people who count? He's nothin' with them. Only reason he's still alive is some folks figure he ain't worth killin'. Whether
     you want to tell him that is up to you, bro'. But you know me. I tell it straight."
    "Thanks, LT," said Bobby. "I really appreciate it. You were always good to me. Never understood why .. . But you were always
     good to me."
    Lenny smiled and leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing to slits. "You ain't a white man, Bobby Gold. That's for sure.
     But you almost white. And we white men gotta stick together."
    "What about her?" said Bobby, indicating the sleeping black woman on the mattress.
    "Oh, that?" said Lenny. "That's love, Bobby. That's a whole different thing."
    Bobby nodded as he stood up to go.
    "Listen," said Lenny, helpfully. "You better put Frankie over there to sleep for a while on your way out. He's gonna be all
     hot and bothered and I don't want him waking the kid or causing a ruckus, he goes followin' you out to the street. Better
     he sleeps for a while."
    "What?" said Frank, trying to scramble to his feet as Bobby approached him on the way to the door.
    "Sorry, Frank," said Bobby. He side-kicked him behind the ear as he passed by, doing it with his toe rather than the heel.
     The impact pushed him onto his face. He stayed down.
    "Thanks, LT," said Bobby.
    "Be good, Bad Bobby . . ."
    "I'm tryin'," said Bobby.

BOBBY IN LOVE
    S omeone was snoring. Nikki opened her eyes, instantly aware of a jumbo-sized, king-hell hangover, her mouth tasting of tequila
     — afraid to look.
    There was a used condom in the ashtray on her nightstand. Nice touch, she thought, pain boring into her skull like a dull
     drill-bit. Just perfect. She raised herself onto one elbow, feeling nauseated, pushed some long, brown hair out of her face,
     and examined the hand that was resting limply on her bare hip. Seeing the thick, diagonal callus at the base of the man's