Читать книгу Drago #6: And the City Burned - Art Spinella - Страница 4

Sal and I sat across from each other at McFarlin’s, a pizza and pitcher of Hef between us.

“You ready for a round of Name Links?”

“One, two or five seconds.”

“Two.”

Sal and I reached into our respective pockets and pulled out quarters. We always carry quarters. Donuts are sold in increments of 25 cents.

Since it was my idea, “I start.”

Sal nodded agreement, leaned forward, steely eyes staring at me. Tree-trunk arms on the restaurant table, hands wrapped around a frosty mug of brew. Ready to pounce.

I looked him in the eyes, squinted hard, looking mean and said, “George Washington.”

I pushed a quarter to the center of the table.

He fired back, “George Bush,” his quarter clinked on mine.

My return, “Herbert W. Bush.”

Another quarter.

The volley had begun with 25 cents going to the pot with each response.

“Herbert Hoover.”

“J. Edgar Hoover.”

“Edgar Allan Poe.”

“George Allen.”

“George Foreman.”

“George Foreman, the son.”

“George Foreman the second son.”

“George Foreman the third son.”

“King George.”

“Martin Luther King.”

“Luther Andros.”

“Lex Luthor.”

“Martin Luther, the preacher.”

“Mary Martin.”

“Martin Sheen.”

“Bishop Sheen.”

“Joey Bishop.”

“Joey Badass.”

Sal slapped the table. “Challenge.”

“Hip hop artist. Hah! Look it up.”

Sal Googled it. ”How’d you know that?”

“I am a musical genius.” I swiped the pot of quarters toward me.

“Ready?”

Sal nodded.

“Little Abner.”

“Abner Doubleday.”

One-thousand and one, one-thousand and two. My mind was blank.

“I got nothin’.”

Sal laughed. “Well, there’s Abner Cotto, the boxer. Abner Mares Martinez, another boxer.”

Sal slid the small pot to his side of the table.

My bearded buddy took a long draught of beer, leaned back and in a quiet voice said, “Tom Cruise.”