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

“because after all—”
    â€œThat’s all right,” I said. “From my clients I get the discretion to pick out what I think is right. They want something in green, so okay, as long as it’s not blue or pink or yellow, it’s all right. That discretion I pass on to you.”
    â€œThen you got nothing to worry about,” he said. “The orders’ll be filled promptly, and you’ll—”
    Maybe I didn’t have anything to worry about, but there was one little item that he could have been devoting a little thought to.
    â€œBy the way,” I said casually, “what happened last night after I left, Teddy? You take Martha home?”
    â€œUh, no,” he said uncomfortably. “She hadda go to the theatre to take the performance after all, so I just took her over there and I left her and—” He stopped, but I didn’t take it from there.
    â€œSay,” he said more briskly, “how’s your mother?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHow does she feel?” he asked. “Your mother. You said yesterday she was sick and you hadda go up to—”
    â€œOh,” I said. “Yeah. Well, she’s all right. She’s resting much better. It wasn’t as serious as we thought.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” he said. “I’m glad to hear that.”
    I’d see how glad he’d be to get the next bit of information.
    â€œWell, listen,” I said, “let’s wind this thing up here.” I pointed to the papers in his hand. “You’ve got the orders and the quantity, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œOkay,” I said calmly. “You’re getting your regular price for them, twelve-seventy-five. But you’re gonna bill them out to my clients at fifteen-seventy-five. Right?”
    He scowled at me quickly and sat up straight in his chair.
    â€œHey, now, wait a minute,” he said. “I didn’t say—!”
    I wasn’t interested in what he’d said or hadn’t said. I was interested in what he was going to do. The profit on this one deal wasn’t important, even though it wasn’t tin. What I needed was someone with whom I could work it regularly, without depending on finding job lots. It was tough on Teddy, but he’d been elected for the post.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Teddy?” I said innocently. “That’s per our agreement, isn’t it?”
    â€œWhat agreement?” he demanded angrily. “What the hell you talking about?”
    â€œWhat’s the matter, your memory go on the fritz or something?” I said. “Don’t you remember our talking at the table last night when Martha went out for a minute?”
    â€œI remember you talking,” he said sullenly. “But I didn’t say anything.”
    He rarely displayed that much consideration for his listeners. But I wasn’t holding him to what he’d said. We’d made an agreement over and above our words.
    â€œYou don’t have to give me any of that horseshit now, Teddy,” I said evenly. “They took you out of knee pants a long time ago. You know what I’m talking about.”
    He dropped his eyes from mine and looked at the orders on the table.
    â€œListen, Harry,” he said, “this is—”
    â€œRegular twelve-seventy-five stuff,” I said coolly. “But you bill them out at fifteen-seventy-five.”
    There was a long pause.
    â€œAll right,” he said finally, in a low voice.
    I got up and tucked the notebook under my arm.
    â€œSo long, Teddy,” I said cheerfully. “When I get some more orders that I think you can fill for me, I’ll be dropping in to see you.”

7.
    I T WASN’T QUITE TWELVE o’clock when I came to the apartment, but already there was activity in the bedroom.
    â€œWho’s there?” she called, “Harry?”
    â€œThat’s right, Martha,” I said.