Everybody Goes to Jimmy's by Michael Mayo Read Free Book Online Page A

a fancy party up in Great Neck, I met a drunken debutante who got all excited when she realized that I was carrying a pistol. She took me out to a dark corner of the garden and dropped to her knees, unbuttoned my fly, and got off to an enthusiastic start before she threw up on my shoes.
    So, while I was stepping out with Anna, I wanted some kind of sexual experience that involved a woman, but I didn’t really know what it would be. I did know that I wanted to be with this woman, to talk to her and to make her smile. I couldn’t take it much farther than that. I was just trying to show her a good time without making an idiot of myself. As far as money went, I turned over everything I got from A. R. and Lansky to Mother Moon. I’d always squirreled away a little for myself, and since I’d been seeing Anna, I squirreled away a little more, but I never flashed my cash. That was just stupid.
    We went to a lot of little restaurants. Whenever she heard about some nutty place from one of the other waitresses, we’d have to go. One place was set up like a miniature golf course, and one was called the Rabbit Hole or something like that, and you had to slide down a chute to get in.
    We’d been going out for maybe a month when I learned that she’d arrived in the city from a little town in Illinois five weeks before. For once, we were at a joint that was just a joint, not a circus or a rodeo. She was working on her second schooner. Yes, she loved her beer, and I’ll admit that I couldn’t handle it in those days. After a couple of sips, I felt like my stomach was all swollen up with gas and I didn’t want any more. Not Anna—that girl could put it away all night long. Of course, both of us could eat. We were a couple of real trenchermen with just about any kind of food.
    As I recall it, she was working her way through some pickled pig’s feet when she asked about my family. I told her that my parents were dead. I lived in a building that was owned by a woman who was my aunt or my grandmother or something. I wasn’t sure.
    Then she asked what kind of politics I had, and I answered that I really didn’t know, but I wasn’t a Red.
    She agreed and sounded more serious when she said, “I don’t want anything to do with a fella who’s more interested in picket lines than he is in me.”
    â€œSo you’re looking for a rich guy?”
    â€œHah!” Her tone made it clear what she thought of the idea. “Any girl who works as a waitress knows how arrogant and snotty society people can be. I don’t want anything to do with them, either. What do you do for a living, Mr. Moneybags?”
    â€œThis and that. You could say I’m a deliveryman.” That was true enough. The day before, I delivered a couple of bribes for A. R. and a truckload of Canadian whiskey for Lansky.
    She teased me. “I thought you were some kind of big shot.”
    â€œNah, I’ve just got a couple of jobs that pay pretty good.”
    Now some guys, when they were out with a girl or a bunch of guys they wanted to impress, they’d talk about how tight they were with Legs Diamond or Owney Madden, but the guys who really knew Legs and Owney and A. R. and Lansky, they didn’t talk about it much. I waved to the waiter and ordered another schooner for Anna.
    It was that night, when we were going home, that we ran into an irate asswipe. Actually, he ran into her, I guess, but it was my fault because I wasn’t paying attention to anything but her.
    We had our arms around each other’s waists, I remember that clearly, and she was giggling into my ear about something. We were near MacDougal Street close to Washington Square. There wasn’t much foot traffic on the sidewalk in that neighborhood after dark, and I knew it’d be easier to catch a cab a couple of blocks north.
    Then, with no sound or warning, this guy came slamming around the corner and barreled