Free Bobby Gold Stories by Anthony Bourdain Page B

this had snuck up on him unasked for.
    Two hairy bastards in leather jackets and work boots came into the bar holding a car radio, slapped it on the bar in front
     of Timmy and demanded to know how much he'd pay for it.
    "Not interested, gentlemen," said Timmy, not inquiring if the two would care for a drink.
    "How 'bout you, buddy? You want a radio? It's a Blaupunkt. Get fifty bucks for it. Sell it to you for twenny, my man."
    "Fuck off," said Bobby, not bothering to even look.
    "What you say to me?" said the larger of the two - a bearded asshole with a much broken nose and dried blood caked under one
     eye.
    "He tole you to fuck off," said the other one.
    "Get the fuck outta my bar," said Timmy, holding a cut-down 10-gauge now, what was left of the barrel resting on the bar.
     A few inches away the sleeping man continued to snore, undisturbed, such was the relaxed, even mellifluous tone of Timmy's
     request.
    "What's the matter with you?" said Timmy after the two had left. "Why are you provokin' a pair a cunts like that?"
    Bobby held up his glass, motioning for more vodka, but Timmy shook his head and came around the bar. "You ain't drinkin' here
     tonight, Bobby Gold," he said. "You're stinkin'. . . and you're lookin' to get yourself jammed up for no good reason that
     I can see. So be a good guy and fuck off home. Don't you got a cat or somethin' to look after? You ain't doin' nobody any
     good being here tonight."
    He began wiping down the cable-spool table in front of Bobby with a wet bar rag. It was the nicest Bobby had ever seen him.
     Even drunk, he could see that.
    See? He did have friends, he thought to himself, as he picked his way to the door. Timmy Moon. Greatest guy on earth. A man
     who cared. Looking after him like that, making sure no harm came to him. Concerned. Fuck everybody else.
    Bobby careened out the door and walked right into Nikki.
    "Who a there, cowboy," she said. "I've been looking for you."
    The Apex Coffee Shop was off the lobby of a run-down tourist hotel on 48th Street. Bobby drank burnt coffee and tried to focus
     on the plate of eggs in front of him.
    "Eat it," said Nikki, across from him. "You'll feel better. Jesus, you were drunk. I've never seen you that way."
    Bobby said nothing, just poked at his eggs with his fork. He hadn't said anything at all since she'd found him, just let her
     lead him like a trained camel a few blocks away to the overlit coffee shop, watched as she'd ordered for him, sat there until
     the food arrived, looking at her.
    She was in a black leather motorcycle jacket, jeans and a T-shirt, but something was different about her. She was wearing
     makeup — a little around the eyes, he thought — and was that lipstick? He thought it was.
    "I'll wait till you sober up a little before I apologize," she said, tearing off a piece of toast with short but polished
     fingernails, the nails cut or chewed in parts, her hands pocked with pink welts.
    "I'm okay now," said Bobby. "You don't have to apologize. For what?"
    "For not making it last night. I'm not like that," she said, looking away and fumbling for a cigarette. "I got loaded," she
     said. "Pissed fucking drunk . . . and I fell asleep."
    "It happens," said Bobby, trying to be noncommittal. "No big thing."
    "Irregardless . . . It happened to me," said Nikki, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "And I'm sorry." She squeezed
     his fingers and withdrew her hand awkwardly. "You know, not for nothin' —but I got all dressed up and everything. I put on
     a fuckin' dress."
    She laughed suddenly, Bobby smelling vodka on her for the first time, realizing that she too was drunk. "I even waxed my cat,"
     she said, an unbecoming half laugh, half derisive snort escaping from her mouth.
    "Your what?" said Bobby — picturing his own cat, shorn of hair, trying to imagine her putting up with such a thing.
    "My pussy, jerk," said Nikki, lowering her voice. "First date and all. I wanted to make a good impression."
    Bobby