What's in It for Me? by Jerome Weidman Read Free Book Online Page A

weakly.
    â€œThat still doesn’t tell me why you came down here so late at night and—”
    She let that little maneuver bounce right off.
    â€œNever mind with the questions,” she said. “It’s my turn to ask questions. By me, you know, I ask questions, I want answers. I called you up yesterday, no? Why didn’t you call me back?”
    â€œI didn’t get the—”
    I stopped because I could tell from the way her eyes furrowed that that was out, too. She acknowledged the retreat with a smile.
    â€œA better reason you’ll have to find,” she said. “I stopped by the desk, there, when I came in. The boy said he gave you the message.”
    The boy was going to get a poke in the snout one of these days if he didn’t stop saying things at the wrong time.
    â€œThat wasn’t what I was going to say, Ma. I was about to say I didn’t get a chance to call back. I was busy winding things up downtown all day because I was figuring on coming up to the Bronx tonight and surprise you.”
    She smiled more broadly and nodded.
    â€œThat’s why you come running in here quick like there was a fire in your behind.”
    I shook my head emphatically.
    â€œIt’s the truth, though,” I said. “This is once when you’re wrong, Ma. What I was rushing in like this for, I was just going upstairs to get me a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush to take up with me so I could sleep over.”
    She didn’t believe a word of it, but she wasn’t tossing away any made-to-order openings like that.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with the pajamas and the toothbrushes you got doing nothing in the Bronx?” she demanded. “For when you are saving them, for when?”
    â€œCome on, Ma,” I said. “Enough of this bellyaching. Next stop Bronx.”
    She held back slightly and looked surprised.
    â€œAll the way downtown I came and you’re not even going to take me upstairs?” she said. “For my trip I don’t even get a chance to look at that fancy high-class heaven of yours.”
    â€œFour walls and a floor you can look at some other time,” I said. “Right now we’re going to the Bronx. You’re so anxious to get me there, so now I’m not gonna waste a minute.”
    I didn’t have enough things to explain to her; all I needed was to take on the additional job of explaining lingerie draped all over my bedroom and silk stockings drying in my bathroom.
    â€œSo come on,” she said, getting up. “I just wanna see if to look on Honeywell Avenue is for you poison, if it’ll maybe, God forbid, kill you or something.”
    Maybe it wouldn’t kill me, but it wouldn’t add anything to the pleasure of my day, either.
    â€œJust give me one second, Ma. While I make a call.” I stepped over to the desk and spoke to Charlie. “Give me a wire in the booth.” He nodded and I stepped in and called the New Bedford. “Hello, desk?” I said.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMy name is Bogen. I—”
    â€œYes, sir?”
    â€œI reserved a room about a half hour ago for tonight and—”
    â€œJust a moment, please.” Pause. “Mr. Harry Bogen?”
    â€œThat’s right. I—”
    â€œYes, Mr. Bogen?”
    â€œWell, cancel it please. My plans are changed. I’m not coming over.”
    â€œVery well, sir.”
    I stepped out of the booth and took her arm.
    â€œLet’s go, Ma.”
    She looked at me curiously as we stood on the curb and I hailed a cab, but she didn’t speak even after we got inside and I had given the driver the address.
    I lit a cigarette and as I inhaled the first puff I realized why that tasted so lousy. She hadn’t commented on my smoking too much. In the past I had resented it. Now I missed it. I threw the cigarette out the window and amused myself for the rest of the trip by twisting my gloves.
    â€œThe middle of