Kane & Abel (1979) (32 page)

‘Sure,’ she said finally, ‘but it’s still going to cost you five dollars for thirty minutes.’

‘More expensive than a BA from Columbia,’ said Abel. ‘How many lessons do you think I’ll need?’

‘Depends how quick a learner you are, doesn’t it?’ she said.

‘Well, let’s start right now,’ said Abel, taking a five-dollar bill out of an inside pocket. She tucked it into the top of her stocking, a sure sign she never took them off.

‘Clothes off first, baby,’ she said. ‘You won’t learn much fully dressed.’

When he was naked, she looked at him critically. ‘You’re not exactly Douglas Fairbanks, are you? Don’t worry about it - it doesn’t matter what you look like once the lights are out; it only matters what you can do.’

Abel listened carefully as she told him how to treat a lady. She was surprised to find that he really didn’t want her, and was even more surprised when he continued to turn up every afternoon for the next three weeks. ‘When will I know I’ve made it?’ he asked her one evening.

‘You’ll know, baby,’ replied Joyce. ‘If you can make me come, you can make an Egyptian mummy come.’

She taught him first where the sensitive parts of a woman’s body were, and then to be patient in his lovemaking - and the signs that would show when he was pleasing her. How to use his tongue and lips in every place other than a woman’s mouth.

Abel listened carefully, and followed her instructions to the letter, to begin with, a little too mechanically. Despite her assurance that he was improving out of all recognition, he had no real idea if she was telling him the truth, until one afternoon about three weeks and $110 later, when to his surprise and delight Joyce suddenly came alive in his arms. She held his head close to her as he gently licked her nipples. As he stroked her between her legs, he discovered she was wet - for the first time - and after he had entered her she moaned, a sound he had never experienced before and found intensely exciting. She clawed at his back, commanding him not to stop. The moaning continued, sometimes loud, sometimes soft. Finally she cried out sharply, clung onto him and then relaxed.

When she had caught her breath, she said, ‘Baby, you just graduated top of the class.’

Abel hadn’t even come.

Abel celebrated being awarded his degree by paying scalper’s prices to see Babe Ruth’s New York Yankees defeat the Pittsburgh Pirates in the World Series decider. He invited George, Monika and a reluctant Clara to be his guests for the evening. After the game, Clara felt it was nothing less than her duty to go to bed with Abel; after all, he had spent a month’s wages on her.

The following morning, just before she left, Clara said, When will I see you again?’

Once Abel had graduated from Columbia, he quickly became dissatisfied with his life at the Plaza, but he could not figure out how to take advantage of his new qualifications.

Although he served some of the wealthiest and most successful men in America, he was unable to approach any of them directly; to do so might well cost him his job. In any case, customers like that were unlikely to pay any attention to the aspirations of a waiter.

On one occasion, when Mr and Mrs Ellsworth Statler came to lunch at the Plaza’s Edwardian Room, he thought his chance had come. He did everything he could think of to impress the famous hotelier, and the meal went without a hitch. As he left, Statler thanked Abel warmly and tipped him $10, but he didn’t say another word. As Abel watched him disappear through the Plaza’s revolving doors, he couldn’t help wondering if he was ever going to get a break.

When he returned to his post, Sammy, the headwaiter, tapped him on the shoulder. ‘What did you get from Mr Statler?’

‘Nothing,’ said Abel.

‘He didn’t tip you?’

‘Oh, yes, sure,’ said Abel. ‘Ten dollars.’ He handed the money over.

‘That’s more like it,’ said Sammy. ‘I was beginning to think you was double-dealing me, Abel. Ten dollars, that’s good even for Mr Statler. You must have impressed him.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Abel as he walked away.

‘Wait a moment, Abel. The gentleman at table seventeen, Mr Leroy, wants to speak to you personally.’

‘What about?’

‘How should I know? He probably heard you’re a big shot and hopes you’ll give him some financial advice.’

Abel glanced over at table 17, strictly for the meek or the unknown, because it was placed near the swinging doors into the kitchen and was always the last to be occupied. Abel usually tried to avoid serving any of the tables at that end of the room.

‘Who is he?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Sammy, not bothering to look up. ‘I’m not in touch with the life story of every customer the way you are. Give them a good meal, make sure you get a big tip and hope they come again. You may think that’s a simple philosophy, but it’s good enough for me. Maybe they forgot to teach you the basics at Columbia. Now get your butt over there, and if it’s a tip, be sure to bring it straight back to me.’

Abel smiled at Sammy and went over to 17. There were two people seated at the table - a man in a colourful checked jacket, which Abel would have described as lurid, and an attractive young woman with a mop of curly blonde hair, which momentarily distracted him. Abel assumed she was the checked jacket’s New York girlfriend. He put on his ‘sorry smile’, betting himself a silver dollar that the man was going to make a big fuss about being placed next to the kitchen doors and try to get his table changed to impress the stunning blonde. No one liked being near the smell of the kitchen and the continual banging of waiters’ heels on the doors, but it was impossible to avoid using the table when the hotel was packed with residents and regulars, who looked upon visitors as nothing more than intruders. Why did Sammy always leave the tricky customers for him?

Abel approached the checked jacket cautiously. ‘You asked to speak to me, sir?’

‘Sure did,’ said a Texan accent. ‘My name is Davis Leroy, and this is my daughter, Melanie.’

Abel turned his attention to Melanie, which was a foolish mistake, because he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

‘I’ve been watching you, Abel, for the past five days,’ Leroy continued in his Texan drawl. ‘I’ve been very impressed by what I’ve seen. You’ve got class, real class, and I’m always on the lookout for that. Ellsworth Statler was a fool not to offer you a job on the spot.’

Abel took a closer look at Mr Leroy. His purple cheeks left him in no doubt that he hadn’t taken much notice of Prohibition, and the empty plate in front of him accounted for his basketball belly, but neither the name nor the face meant anything to him. At a normal lunchtime, Abel would be familiar with the background of most guests occupying the thirty-nine tables in the Edwardian Room. But Mr Leroy remained a blank.

Leroy was still talking. ‘Now, I’m not one of those multimillionaires who have to sit at your corner tables when they eat at the Plaza.’

Abel was impressed. The average customer wasn’t supposed to appreciate the relative merits of the various tables.

‘But I’m not doing so badly for myself. In fact, my best hotel may well grow to be as impressive as this one someday, Abel.’

‘I’m sure it will, sir,’ said Abel, playing for time. Leroy, Leroy, Leroy. The name still didn’t mean a thing.

‘Lemme git to the point, son. The number one hotel in my group needs a new assistant manager in charge of the restaurants. If you’re interested, join me in my room when you get off duty.’

He handed Abel an unembossed card.

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Abel, glancing at it: ‘Davis Leroy. The Richmond Group of Hotels, Dallas.’ Underneath was inscribed the motto: ‘One day a hotel in every state.’ The name still meant nothing to him.

‘I look forward to seeing you,’ said Leroy.

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Abel. He smiled at Melanie, who didn’t return the compliment. He went back to Sammy, who, head down, was still counting his takings.

‘Ever heard of the Richmond Group of Hotels, Sammy?’

‘Sure, my brother was a junior waiter in one once. Must be about eight or nine of them, mostly in the south, run by some crazy Texan, but I can’t remember the guy’s name. Why you want to know?’ asked Sammy suspiciously.

‘No particular reason,’ said Abel.

‘There’s always a reason with you, Abel. What did table seventeen want?’

‘Grumbling about being placed so near the kitchen. Can’t say I blame him.’

‘What does he expect me to do, put him out on the veranda? Who does the guy think he is, John D. Rockefeller?’

Abel left Sammy to his counting, and cleared his tables as quickly as possible. Then he went to his room to begin checking on the Richmond Group. A few calls and he’d learned enough to satisfy his curiosity. The group turned out to have eleven hotels in all, the most impressive one a 342-room deluxe establishment in Chicago, the Richmond Continental. Abel decided he had nothing to lose by paying a call on Mr Leroy and Melanie. He checked Leroy’s room number - 85 - one of the better small rooms. He knocked on the door a little before four o’clock, and was disappointed to discover that Melanie was not with him.

‘Glad you could drop by, Abel. Take a seat.’

It was the first time Abel had sat down with a guest in the four years he had worked at the Plaza.

‘How much are you paid?’ asked Leroy.

The suddenness of the question took Abel by surprise.

‘I take in around twenty-five dollars a week with tips.’

‘I’ll start you at thirty-five a week, and you can be in charge of tips.’

‘Which hotel?’ asked Abel.

‘If I’m a good judge of character, Abel, I’d say you got off table duty about three-thirty and took the next thirty minutes finding out which hotel I had in mind. Am I right?’

Abel was beginning to like the man. ‘The Richmond Continental in Chicago?’ he ventured.

Leroy laughed. ‘I was right about you.’

Abel’s mind was working fast. ‘How many people would be above me?’

‘Only the manager and me. The manager’s old school, and near retirement; and as I’ve got ten other hotels to worry about, I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble from me. Although I must confess Chicago is my favourite, my first hotel in the north. And since Melanie’s at school there, I find I spend more time in the Windy City than I ought to.’

Abel was still thinking.

‘Don’t ever make the mistake most New Yorkers do, of underestimating Chicago. They think it’s only a postage stamp on a very large envelope, and they’re the envelope.’

Abel smiled.

‘The hotel’s a little run-down at the moment,’ Leroy admitted. ‘The last assistant manager left without giving notice, so I need a good man to take his place. Now listen, Abel, I’ve watched you carefully for the past five days, and I know you’re that man. Do you think you’d be interested in moving to Chicago?’

‘Forty dollars a week and ten per cent of any increased profits, and I’ll take the job.’

‘What?’ said Davis, flabbergasted. ‘None of my managers are paid on a profit basis. The others would raise hell if they ever found out.’

‘I’m not going to tell them if you don’t,’ said Abel.

Davis didn’t reply for some time. ‘Now I know I chose the right man, even if he strikes a harder bargain than a Yankee with six daughters.’ He slapped the side of his chair. ‘I agree to your terms, Abel.’