The Handler

Начало книги

When the big man came in, there was a movement in the room like a lot of bird dogs pointing. Piano player quits pounding, the two singing drunks shut up, all the beautiful people with cocktails in their hands stop talking and laughing.

“Pete!” the nearest women shrilled, and he walked straight into the room, arms around two girls, hugging them tight. “How’s my sweetheart? Susy, you look good enough to eat, but I had it for lunch. George, you pirate”-he let go both girls, grabbed a bald blushing little man and thumped him on the arm- “you were great, sweetheart, I mean it, really great. Now HEAR THIS!” he shouted, over all the voices that were clamoring Pete this, Pete that.

Somebody put a martini in his hand and he stood holding it, bronzed and tall in his dinner jacket, teeth gleaming white as his shirt cuffs. “We had a show!” he told them.

A shriek of agreement went up, a babble of did we have a show my God Pete listen a show—

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