Читать книгу Manhattan Voyagers - Thomas Boone's Quealy - Страница 14

The twelve television monitors in the Bull & Bear all displayed the same message during the commercial break:

BUY WHEN THERE’S BLOOD IN THE STREETS!

Tuck Hobbs peered up at the nearest screen as he entered the bar. Hilda was interrupting the cable feed again, trying to project an optimistic outlook for the stock market so as to help her business. He wrinkled his nose; she should stick to selling liquor. His best guess was that the heavy bloodletting was still a few months away.

By the time he waved to Ruthie the message had changed to:

THE TREND IS YOUR FRIEND!

He agreed. The only problem was that the trend is down and trending lower; so investors should sell; not buy.

The next message materialized before he could turn away:

THE MARKET IS MANIC-DEPRESSIVE!

Tuck grimaced. His gut told him that he was M-D too.

He surveyed the large barroom, catching Jimmy Donovan’s attention to let him know that he’d arrived. Then he sat on a stool at the other side of the bar near a redhead with the most voluptuous breasts he’d seen in the last 48 hours. Busty women weren’t trustworthy but there was no denying that they turned him on. The bra strap on her back looked to be stretched to its limit and seemed like it might give way at any minute. If it did burst, he’d be quick to offer both his moral and physical support.

A few minutes later Jimmy came over and sat down next to him.

Tuck gave him a hug. “Love you, guy.”

“Likewise.”

“What were you doing talking to that Pizzi douchebag?”

“It’s a public place, besides, Carl’s not so bad.”

Tuck grunted disapprovingly.

Julia put his White Russian down on the bar in front of him.

Jimmy looked puzzled. “I thought you always drank Jameson neat?”

Tuck stirred the cocktail with his pinky finger and took a sip. “I did but this has milk in it and I feel an ulcer coming on.”

“Maybe the pressure is finally getting to you, Tuck, maybe you should kiss off Wall Street and get into another line of business.”

“Yeah, right, I could buy myself a second-hand cart and sell hot dogs and warm pretzels on the corner of Broad Street.”

Jimmy managed a reticent smile despite his depressed state of mind.

“Or better still, you and I might go into business together.”

“What would we do, Tuck?”

“Let me see, what skills do you have?”

Jimmy weighed the question. “Well, I’m a good listener.”

“Hmm.”

“And I take detailed, comprehensive notes at business meetings.”

“Ok.”

“And I also make a good first impression. That’s important, Tuck, because a person doesn’t get a second chance to make a good first impression.”

“True. Anything else, Jimmy?”

He lowered his voice. “Well, I’ve been told I’m a stud muffin.”

“A what?”

“A stud muffin. You know, a guy who is great in bed at pleasuring the ladies.”

Tuck’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“I could probably be a professional Gigolo, if I was so inclined.”

He scrutinized his rapidly balding, portly chum. “Eh, who told you that you were a stud, Jimmy?”

“A woman, of course.”

“Your wife.”

“No, Pam would never talk that way, she’s shy about sex. When I first met her, Pam was a devout virgin and contemplating joining the convent.”

“Is this woman then someone you’re currently having an affair with?”

“No, Tuck, I’d never cheat on my wife.”

He fidgeted in his seat. “How long ago did this woman tell you that you were a stud?”

“I remember the day exactly, Tuck, it was on my 16^th. Birthday.”

“Hells bells, Jimmy, that must be thirty-five years ago!”

“Actually, it was only thirty-four years ago.”

“How did you met this woman?”

“It was when my dad took me to the local cathouse in our hometown to celebrate my becoming a man. She was a Hoochie-Coochie girl and it was my first sexual experience.”

“I see.”

“Well, not exactly my first sexual experience, Tuck, I jerked off quite a bit as a teenager. But I’m not sure masturbation counts as sex.”

He sighed. “I don’t need you to tell me that kind of stuff, Jimmy, it’s your own private business, you should keep it under wraps.”

“Um, right.”

“Yeah.”

“It reminds me, Tuck, I was reading the other day that sales of vibrators are way up. It seems more and more women are into self-stimulation these days.”

“Self-stimulation?”

“That’s the modern, politically-correct term for female masturbation.”

“Oh.”

“According to this article, the main reason sales are escalating is because women are able to achieve orgasms with a vibrator and still have one hand free to text on their smartphones.”

“That takes multi-tasking to an entirely new level.”

“It sure does.”

“And it’s a sad commentary on the sexuality of the male animal today. In my youth, men were men, Jimmy, women didn’t need to masturbate because they got all the action they could handle from us guys.”

“Is that right?”

“Take me, for example, I was able to satisfy two or three babes in a single night and my crane would still be erect for more.” He glanced sideways at the chesty redhead with a vulture’s eye to see if his sexual prowess impressed her, however, she was now speaking to a girlfriend with equally succulent boobs. The thought of getting them both into the sack together caused the hairs on his balls to vibrate like the steel strings on a piano playing Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony.

“I disagree, Tuck, I think women have been masturbating for thousands of years.”

“If they have, Jimmy, it’s because all those sissy Greek and Roman guys in ancient times were homosexual; they liked young boys too much.”

“The same article reported that 12% of women have sex with their partners while also talking with somebody else on their cell phones.”

He shook his head in dismay. “What’s our society coming to?”

“I often ask myself the same question.”

Tuck burped, yawned, and farted concurrently, spraying an invisible, noxious fragrance within a twenty foot area so other patrons held their noses while they searched for the culprit. “Do you have any other marketable skills, Jimmy, you can share with me?”

“Yes, I’ve never been late for an appointment, Tuck, I’m a very punctual person.”

“That’s not a skill; it’s a character trait.”

“Oh.”

“Anything else worth mentioning about yourself?”

“No, Tuck, I’m just your typical buttoned-down, eager-to-please, big-hearted, law-abiding, large-souled, hard-drinking meat-eater.”

“Large-souled? ”

“It’s the opposite of being small-souled, Tuck.”

“Huh?”

“It means someone who … who personifies all that is uplifting about the human race and the human condition.”

His eyebrow lifted. “And that’s you, Jimmy?”’

“Most definitely. I’m a complex person, Tuck, sometimes I’m astounded at just how complex I really am.”

“Hmm.”

“Despite the many years we’ve known each other, Tuck, I don’t believe you’ve ever seen the real me.”

“Maybe not.”

“Now that you’ve gotten to penetrate my veil, Tuck, what do you think?”

“Well, Jimmy, I’d sum it up by saying that you and I are neck-and-neck in the talent department. We match up evenly across the board.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, Tuck, so where does that leave the two of us as far as job prospects are concerned?”

He pursed his lips. “Well, I’d say it puts us both squarely behind the 8-Ball.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“Tell me, Jimmy, is there anything you’re very passionate about?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I ask because executive recruiters recommend the unemployed look for jobs doing an activity they love; they should try to turn their passion or hobby into a business.”

“Hmm.”

“The theory is that if you love doing a particular kind of work, Jimmy, then you’ll be very proficient at it and end up making lots of money for yourself.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does to me too. So what do you really love doing?”

He studied the water beads on his beer bottle for almost five seconds. “I … I love going to the beach and walking on the wet sand, feeling it get stuck between my toes, picking up colorful seashells washed in by the tide, and watching the pelicans as they dive into the water for fish.”

Tuck blew out his breath in exasperation.

“Don’t get so upset, Tuck, you asked me the question and I answered it truthfully.”

“Ok, Jimmy, is there anything else besides being a beach bum that gets your inner juices flowing?”

He lowered his voice again. “I … I write a little poetry in my spare time.”

“Poetry!”

“Yes and Pam says my stuff is darn good.”

“I’ll take her word for it, Jimmy, however, I’ve got bad news for you. Unfortunately, the job market for poets isn’t very active; in fact, it STINKS!”

He nodded sadly. “Everything I’ve ever been gifted at has no monetary value; it’s the story of my life.”

Tuck rubbed a kink in his neck that had worsened as their conversation progressed. “There’s an important question you have to ask yourself, Jimmy, and the sooner the better.”

“What question?”

“It is one you must answer honestly, no matter how much it may hurt you to do so.”

“I’m not liking where this appears to be headed.”

Tuck confronted him squarely. “The question is this: If I were an employer looking to hire a person to fill a job opening today, would I hire Jimmy Donovan?”

“Hmm.”

“Well, Jimmy, what’s your answer?”

“No, of course I wouldn’t hire me, Tuck, not in a million years.”

“There you go, then, Jimmy, that says a lot about you; doesn’t it?”

“And I wouldn’t hire you neither, Tuck.”

*