Joe Steele

Joe Steele by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Joe Steele by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online
Authors: Harry Turtledove
ravioli—but no corned beef and cabbage and potatoes, either.”
    â€œThere you go, babe.” Mike nodded. “They’ve still got some kind of noodles here, though, so your side’s probably ahead on points.”
    â€œNoodles doused in this waddayacallit? Soy sauce? Forget it, Mike—that’s not Italian.” Stella was a little tiny gal, only an inch or two over five feet. She wasn’t shy about coming out with what she thought, though. That was one of the things that drew Mike to her. He’d never had any use for shrinking violets.
    Her folks were from the Old Country. They wanted her to tie the knot with a
paisan
, preferably with one from the village south of Naples they’d come from. Like Mike, Stella was no damn good at doing what other people wanted.
    His folks were almost as disgusted that he was going with a dago as hers were that she was dating a mick. They weren’t just as disgusted because they’d been in the States a couple of generations longer—and because Charlie’s fiancée was Jewish. That really gave them something to grouse about.
    Stella sipped tea from one of the small, funny handleless cups thechop-suey joint used. It wasn’t as if she might not have gone out with a sheeny or two herself. She was a secretary at a theatrical booking agency, and almost all the guys she worked for were Jews. She didn’t speak much Yiddish, but she’d learned to understand it in self-defense.
    Mike waved to the waiter. “Can we have another couple of fried shrimp, please?” he said.
    â€œSure thing.” The waiter wasn’t Chinese. He was tall and blond and skinny as a soda straw, and he swished. Fruit or not, he was a good waiter. He hustled back to the kitchen and brought them in nothing flat.
    Just as he set them down, Charlie and Esther Polgar walked into Hop Sing’s. Mike and Stella both waved; his brother and almost-sister-in-law sat down at the table with them. Esther had wavy red hair and a pointed chin. Her mother and father had brought her to America from Budapest when she was a little girl, bare months before the Great War started.
    She grabbed one of the fried shrimp. Charlie snagged the other one. “Of all the nerve!” Mike said in mock indignation.
    â€œYeah.” Stella wagged a finger at Esther. “Those things aren’t even kosher.”
    â€œThey’re delicious, is what they are,” Esther answered.
    â€œWe’re gonna need a couple of more fried shrimp,” Mike told the waiter. “And another pot of tea, and more chop suey, too.” He glanced at his brother. “Unless you can make supper out of our scraps. That’s what you get for showing up late.”
    â€œWe get to have you watch us while we eat, too,” Charlie said. “Not that we care.”
    The waiter hurried back to the kitchen again. He put a lot of hip action into his walk. If he wasn’t careful, the vice squad would land on him like a ton of bricks one of these days. He wasn’t a bad guy—not the sort of queer who annoyed normal people in the hope that they shared his vice. As long as he didn’t, Mike was willing to live and let live.
    â€œNot much been going on since we saw each other last,” Charlie said. His smile lifted only one side of his mouth. “Hardly anything, matter of fact.”
    â€œJoe Steele getting nominated? Roosevelt going up in smoke? Uh-huh—hardly anything,” Mike said.
    â€œYou forgot Garner getting the nod for VP,” Charlie said.
    â€œMm, I guess I did,” Mike said after a little thought. “Wouldn’t you?”
    â€œYou guys are terrible,” Esther said. “You’re worse when you’re together, too, ’cause you play off each other.”
    â€œNow that you’re both here, I’ve got a question for the two of you,” Stella said. “The Executive Mansion burning down like it did—do you

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