Boot Gets an Earful (Chris and Boot 4b)

[tortolis]

Boot Gets an Earful - 4b

I strongly suspected something was up with Chris. And, of course, I was right.

I was in bed, asleep by the time he got back to the dorm Thursday night. Yes, of course he?s entitled to a social life. And no, I?m not jealous, or I would?ve stayed up. In fact, I just left him sleeping in the next morning, went to class, then popped in to the pizza shop to check on the afternoon crew, when who should show up but Abe Margolis, looking shiftier than usual. As soon as I saw him, I knew that it had something to do with Chris and Thursday night. And, of course, I was right.

?Hey, Boot, how goes it,? he said.

?Hanging in, my friend. What can I do for you??

?I wanted to discuss maybe a deal for you to supply pizza to the bar, maybe Sicilian style, cut up small for the bar crowd, name your terms.?

Bullshit. He knew this couldn?t work. ?Sounds great, Abe, but the devil?s in the details. We shut the ovens off at eleven. And there?s a capacity issue. At lunch and dinner it?s all we can do to keep up with our own crowd.?

?What do you want to bet we could work something out? You could expand based on our business alone. Besides, you know what happens. Limited availability?demand goes up?the price goes up. Which reminds me, have you talked to your boy Chris about last night??

?He?s not my boy, Abe, and I haven?t seen him around lately. What about last night??

?He happened to stop by just in time to break up a fight. It was beautiful.?

?Oh, yeah? What happened??

?Let?s just say the customers loved it. My regular bouncer got hurt. I think I?m gonna can him.?

?Great, Abe. Way to be loyal. Maybe he can get workers? comp and unemployment insurance at the same time??

?Don?t bust my ass, Boot, I?m just trying to run a business here, same as you, and I?ve got people to answer to. If I don?t do my job, I get fired, too. And I?m just trying to help both of us. What would you say to my taking a bigger stake in your boy??

?What? A bigger stake? He?s not my boy, Abe. In case you haven?t looked at him lately, he?s not anybody?s boy. He?s his own man, and he?s certainly not selling stakes. I don?t know what you have in mind, but it has nothing to do with me.?

?Like hell it doesn?t. You mean to tell me he?s not going to come to you if I want him to work more hours? And you?re not going to negotiate the deal for him? It?s called agency. What?s your stake??

?No stake, Abe. We?re friends. We?re suite-mates. Roomies. Of course he?s going to come to me for advice if he gets a business proposition, I?m a lot more experienced than he is. You think if I decide to start working out I?m not going to go to him for advice??

?Yeah, yeah, yeah,? said Abe. ?So tell me, Mr. Buffett. Say I was to offer Chris three nights instead of two. My three toughest, biggest nights, instead of my two quietest nights. And say I was to offer double the pay for this 50 percent rise in hours. What would you tell him??

I thought for a minute. ?Well, Abe, I?ll tell you. That?s not a bad deal. Not such a great deal, since you?re talking Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, which would mean a lot more work. But still, not bad. On the other hand, if I was to bet, I would bet that Chris would not even come to me for advice on this deal. Because he?s a pretty serious student in a pretty tough program, and he?s told me he doesn?t want to work more than ten hours a week.?

Abe looked like a crestfallen little boy. He was silent.

?Why don?t you just talk to him and see what happens?? I asked. ?Don?t let me stop you just with something I said. What do I know??

This didn?t cheer him. Just what I wanted. ?We?ve got to able to work this out somehow,? he said.

?Why don?t you tell me what really happened last night?? I asked.

?Oh, fuck, man. You had to be there. He picked up this huge guy and threw him across the room. Tossed him like a baseball. And then this other guy sneaks up behind him and wallops him with a chair. It?s like he doesn?t even feel it. He picks up the chair and punches it to smithereens. Then he whips his shirt off and scares the guy shitless just by standing there with his muscles hanging out. He?s like a gorilla in the jungle. Total intimidation.?

I was reeling from imagining what it must have been like. But more than that, I was incensed at the idiotic way Abe described it. Chris, like a gorilla? Gorillas are crude, ugly, gross. Chris is resplendent in his bigness, sculpted in his power, exquisite in the jagged, shadowed, rounded details of his body. I can just imagine him standing there with the mere sight of him sending a roughneck running for the exit. ?Must?ve been quite a brawl,? I said.

?Actually, no,? said Abe. ?It was just a couple of drunk guys who got out of control on a busy night. But Chris! You should have seen him when he went into action. And the patrons love him. Love him. Let me tell you, word is out. He?s promotable. He?s a draw. I don?t want to lose this kid.?

I don?t want to lose him, either. I desperately don?t want to lose him. But I can?t shake the feeling that the best thing I can do for Chris is to keep out of his way. To let him come to me?if he chooses to do so.

[tagsnola]

... ain't raised no fool. This kid is shrewd and he's a good soul. An unusual combination.