 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 22:01:03 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 133922
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Big Al 4
[time] => 2007-04-29 01:57:47
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => It was afternoon the next day when I finally got out of bed. I showered, shaved and put on my grey suit with white shirt and matching tie. I was going to drive over to my office and make a few phone calls to the Bernstein brothers about delivery and what their cut would be out of my twenty thousand. How could Casino beat buying my booze at forty cents a bottle and not have to deal with the Purple Gang? I stopped off at Mimi’s place down the block from the Jerkins building to have a quick ham on rye sandwich before making the calls. Mimi’s is a greasy spoon place but the service is quick and coffee hot. I let the coffee sit on the sandwich to keep it down and left my car parked where it was. When I got to the office, Jean was dusting the Mission furniture in the outer office trying to keep busy. Not only do I date her, but she’s my secretary and Girl Friday. “ That stuff only comes back, you know.” She kept the feather duster busy and gave me an off the shoulder remark.“ I got to earn the money you pay me.” “Any calls, messages or robberies?” “ A Mister Roger Forsyth called. Wants to buy a piece of Ming furniture. Said he’d come in later and talk to you about it.” “Sound legit?” “ How would I know. That’s all he said.” “Okay, honey. Put that duster down and keep busy behind the desk. Paint your fingernails or whatever. Just look busy for the man. I closed the door between us. I had no luck with the phone calls. The brothers couldn’t be reached. That was okey. There was plenty of time for all that anyhow. I was reading my mail when the intercom sounded. “ A Mister Forsyth to see you” “Show him in.” He was a tall dignified guy all decked out in spats and hamburg. He had on a blue serge suit with vest. A gold chain was there. A gold handle cane also affected the part of big money. His hair was black with grey temples, nose sharp above a thin line of lips. Eyes were black too. “ Please have a seat.” “ Thank you.” He laid his cane down carefully by the chair’s leg not removing the hamburg. His hands went together as though he were going to pray. “ My wife, my wife asked me to come and see if you could get her an antique she wants. I know nothing of antiques, but she’s wants me to see if I can find it.” “And what is that?” He pulled a slip of paper out of his vest pocket and read. “Late Ming or Early Qing Dynasty, Huanghuali Wood Rose Chair with Openback Design. Ever heard of one?” “ All the time,” I lied. “Very popular and very much in demand. That particular chair is going to be hard to find. I’ll have to make some phone calls.” “ Do so. I don’t care what the cost is. What do you charge for a retainer?” “Fifty dollars, but you get it back if I can’t deliver.” “You can get a hold of me at this number.” He took a fountain pen and a small tablet out of his inside coat pocket and wrote down a number, tore it out and handed it to me. Reaching inside the pocket again he took out his check book and wrote. “ How long before you’ll know,” he asked. “ You’ll hear from me in a couple of days. It’s going to coast a bundle.” “ I’ll wait your call.” I wrote out a receipt for his fifty dollars and gave it to him. We shook hands. He went out. I put his check in my wallet, opened the desk drawer and took out the office bottle with shot glass. I gave myself two fingers of it. Not nearly as good as Casino’s, but good enough. I pressed down on the intercom key and spoke to Jean.“ Get your hat. We’re going to Chinatown.” I could hear her suck in her breath. “Chinatown? What’s there?” “Business. I’ve got business and you’re coming with me.” We walked to the Buick and drove over to Wentworth Street where there were several hole in wall businesses that depended on the tourist trade. These stores were filled with typical oriental gimcracks of all kinds, fans, beads, small chests with dragons painted on the tops and sides. The stores always smelled of exotic incense. I knew an owner named Ming Lou who might help me find Forsyth’s , Huanghuali Wood Rose Chair. We went in his store. Ming Lou came out from behind a bamboo curtain with a big smile on his face under his traditional Chinese hat. “Mr. Bergen, it’s a great pleasure to see you again.” He spoke good English. “Ming Lou, you look very sharp today. I like your jacket. Is it new?” “ Yes, it is new. My nephew gave it to me. He is very rich and owns a laundry on Van Buren Street. It is a Tangzhuang black jacket. He bowed low to Jean showing respect. He spoke to me. “How may I help you?” “ I have a client who wants a Huanghuali Wood Rose Chair. Do you have one?” “ Oh no. That is very rare and do not think anyone in Chinatown has one for sale.” “ If you find one anyplace, give me a call and I’ll buy it. You’ll get a good commission for your time and trouble.” “ I think I will have to call New York.” “ That’s okay. Go ahead and do it. All your calls will be part of the commission.” He gave me another big smile. “ I can do that tomorrow and let you know.” I handed him a business card with my number on it. “Here’s my number.” He took the card. Reaching under the counter he brought out one of the little wooden chests painted with dragons. He lifted the lid and dropped my card in. “ I’ll give you a call when I have any information for you.” “ Good. We’re going to get some Chinese food now , Ming Lou. What’s a good restaurant we can go to?” “ My cousin owns a good restaurant down the street. It is called Sue Ling’s. He makes very good chopsuey. You tell Sue Ling that I sent you and he will treat you well.” “ I’ll do that.” I bought Jean a dragon painted chest and we left. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 211 [topic] => 31 [informant] => ramfire [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com