While Drowning in the Desert by Don Winslow Read Free Book Online Page B

‘Nate, you have a string of fat stuck between your teeth.’ I think it’s one of Murray’s stupid jokes, because without his writers, let’s face it, Murray Koppelman is not funny. So I say, ‘Murray, what? This is funny? Food-in-your-teeth jokes?’ He says he’s serious, so I turn to this lady at the next table and ask, ‘Do I have a string of fat stuck between my teeth?’ and she says, ‘Yes, you do. You do have a string of fat stuck between your teeth, right here,’ and she shows me on her teeth!
    “The woman had a beautiful mouth. I said, ‘Do you go to Dr. Kaufman?’ She says, ‘No, I go to Dr. Millman.’
    “‘Millman?’ I say. ‘Millman is a crook!’ She says, ‘Millman is my nephew!’ I say, ‘Sol Millman?’ She says, ‘No, Sam Millman.’ And I say, ‘That’s good. I was thinking of Sol Millman who is the crook’—so I covered myself there. But that Sam Millman is a crook who will take the gold right out of your mouth. Now Kaufman, there’s a dentist.
    “Kaufman is the dentist who fixes my teeth after I crack one with a fork trying to get the string of fat out which is what comes from cheap pastrami. Now at Wolff’s they would never give you stringy, fatty pastrami. Wolff knew delicatessen. He knew good delicatessen from drech. Arthur Minsky always sent out to Wolff’s. Nothing else would do for Arthur Minsky who was a man of refinement. A gentleman, Arthur Minsky.
    “So the Irish kid comes back with the sandwich and puts the bag on Arthur’s desk. Arthur is in the middle of telling Eileen the Irish Dream that never again will she remove her g-string on the runway of Minsky’s no matter what any critic writes and Benny the Blade starts yelling that Eileen has to redeem her honor because she has been slandered and Arthur says that any man who wears spats should perhaps not open his mouth on matters concerning taste.
    “They are having this discussion when the Irish kid who was stupid like you sets the sandwich down on Arthur’s desk, and Arthur is arguing with Benny as he bites into the sandwich and he’s saying, ‘Benny, excuse me, I don’t tell you how to run numbers, please do not tell me how to run—This is salami!!’
    “Arthur can’t believe it, Eileen can’t believe it, Benny can’t believe it, even I can’t believe it because I am sitting there waiting to talk to Arthur about what we’re going to do with Phil Gold, who is out again on a bender, and who am I supposed to do ‘Who’s on First’ with?
    “Arthur starts to laugh, Eileen starts to laugh, Benny the Blade starts to laugh and then I start to laugh and this Irish kid says, ‘What?’ and Arthur says, ‘This is the last time I send a goy to get deli.’ He tousles the kid’s hair and tells him, ‘I said pastrami, not salami.’ This kid didn’t know the difference between—”
    “DON’T YOU EVER SHUT UP?!”
    Okay. I’m not proud of it. But that’s what I yelled. No excuses. I just lost it.
    I know, I know. How could I be so mean to a sweet old man like Nathan Silverstein who was merely indulging in some old memories to kill a little time on a long car trip? All I can say in my own defense is that you weren’t in the car with him.
    Well, he shut up, all right. After I screamed, he turned those watery little eyes to me, looked very hurt, then slowly turned face forward and maintained a total, dignified silence.
    Which was worse than the monologue.
    Not at first. At first it was wonderful, sweet silence. Blessed solitude with a slight underlay of guilt, but I was willing to live with that.
    At first. Then it grew heavier. And heavier. As the miles between Nevada and California peeled away the weight of the guilt pressed down on my shoulders like two anvils. How could I be so mean to a sweet old man like Nathan Silverstein who was merely indulging in some old memories to kill a little time on a long car trip?
    So after half an hour of total silence I asked, “Who’s on