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

“It’s me.”
    She was sitting in front of the dressing table, combing her hair and humming. She looked at me in the mirror.
    â€œWhat’s that you got there, Harry?”
    â€œI brought you the papers.”
    â€œThanks,” she said, “I’ll read them later.”
    I put them on the bed and she went back to her hair.
    â€œNice day out?” she asked.
    â€œNot bad.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her. She had helped me make a little over twelve hundred bucks that day. Maybe I’d buy her a box of handkerchiefs. “How come you’re up so early today?” I asked casually.
    She shook her head and fluffed her hair out in the back.
    â€œRehearsal at two,” she said.
    â€œBy the way,” I said, bouncing myself up and down gently on the bed, “what did you think of that shrimp Ast?”
    She didn’t even miss a stroke with the comb.
    â€œWho?” she asked.
    I wiped my face with my handkerchief to hide the smile that I couldn’t stop quickly enough.
    â€œAst,” I said. “You know, Teddy Ast. The guy I introduced you to last night at the table.”
    â€œOh, him!” she said. “He’s all right, I guess.”
    â€œI had to leave in such a hurry last night,” I said, “that I was a little worried later about leaving you with practically a total stranger.”
    If they were strangers, I was Rin Tin Tin.
    â€œOh, he was all right,” she said in an offhand way.
    â€œKind of an interesting guy, in his own way, isn’t he, Martha?”
    â€œHe didn’t do any card tricks at the table, if that’s what you mean,” she said, squinting at herself in the mirror.
    â€œI hope he didn’t bore you,” I said, with the soft pedal on the sarcasm. “He’s such a brilliant guy, you know, he can have you chewing the tablecloth in—”
    â€œOh, he talked about the weather and he paid the check,” she said. “That’s about as much as you can expect from any man, I guess.”
    Sailors and weather prophets. What an upbringing she’d had!
    â€œWhen did he leave here last night?”
    The hand holding the tweezers didn’t miss a hair.
    â€œHe didn’t even get here,” she said.
    My teeth came together with a click.
    â€œNot at all?”
    This time I couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. She disregarded it completely.
    â€œNot at all she,” she said.
    I sat up on the bed and stopped bouncing.
    â€œWhat kind of a—?” I began.
    She stroked her eyebrow and examined it like it was a recently uncovered Rembrandt.
    â€œHe ran into some buyers in the restaurant,” she said, “and you know what I think of buyers.”
    I knew what she thought of buyers. I wanted to know what she thought of Teddy Ast.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo I got up and said good night and thanks for the meal and I took a taxi to the theatre. That’s all.” That’s all, balls. “You know me, Harry. I always act like a perfect lady, even to your friends.”
    â€œDidn’t even take you to the theatre, eh?”
    â€œYou didn’t introduce him as a gentleman,” she said. “So I wasn’t disappointed.”
    I took my knee in my hand and watched the back of her head. What was going on here, anyway? He said he took her to the theatre; she said he didn’t. In my pocket I had duplicates of the charges he was going to jack up for me, which meant that he’d been here; but she said he hadn’t been. What was she becoming in her late twenties, modest?
    â€œA fine gentleman that guy turned out to be!” I said in an annoyed voice. “I introduce him to a girl and I have to leave in a hurry, so he practically walks out on her. Doesn’t even take her home! Go introduce your friends around to him!”
    â€œMaybe that’s the way he always acts,” she said.
    â€œWell, it’s