Read Online Bone in the Throat by Anthony Bourdain - Free Book Online Page B

the dishes," said Skinny. He held up the chef's expensive Japanese knife. "What do I do with this?"
    "Minchia!" exclaimed Sally. "Skin, you really beat the shit outta that thing."
    "It's a piece a shit," said Skinny.
    "They should get that knife they got on TV. The ones they sell, whaddaya call 'em—the Ginsu. Shit saws through a fuckin' nail," said Sally.
    "So whaddaya want me to do with this?" asked Skinny.
    "I dunno," said Sally.
    "Should I throw it out? I think I should throw it out," said Skinny.
    "No," said Sally, "Somebody might go lookin' for it. Just wash it off and put it back where you found it. They'll blame it on some fuckin' dishwasher."
    While Skinny dressed, Sally went into the office. "When's the garbage pickup tomorrow?" he asked Tommy.
    "Ten A.M. ," said Tommy. "But there's nobody to put it out on the street. The porters aren't here."
    "Right, right," said Sally, furrowing his brow, "So, it waits till the next day. That happens sometime, right? That's nothin' new. You gotta do that onna weekends, right?"
    Tommy nodded.
    "This sucks, Sally," said Tommy, quietly, so Skinny couldn't hear him in the kitchen. "This sucks so fuckin' bad." Sally reached over and rubbed the back of Tommy's neck. "C'mon, it's not so fuckin' bad."
    "It's bad. It is bad, this is really, really bad," said Tommy. "I can't believe you did this to me."
    "What can I tell you, it hadda be done," said Sally.
    "You dropped me right in the shit. You didn't even ask, you didn't even tell me what you were gonna do . . . Why'd you fuckin' hafta do it here? Why me? Why'd you hafta do it here?"
    Sally continued massaging Tommy's neck.
    "It was a rush job, hadda be done in a hurry. Hadda be done tonight. It couldn't wait. There was no place else. I wanted to find another spot but it didn't work out. This guy, this guy was a rat bastard. He hadda disappear off the face a the earth. He hadda go. And he hadda go tonight . . ."
    Tommy blinked back tears. He flashed on a moment in his mother's kitchen, Sally standing there in the doorway, holding a new basketball for Tommy, some flowers for his mother, the same look on his face he had now.
    "Don't be a crybaby," Sally was saying. "Don't be pissin' and moanin' about this. Especially in fronta Skin. You don't want him to see that. He'll start to be gettin' thoughts in his mind about you."
    Tommy thought about Skinny thinking about him, and he shuddered. After a minute, he said, "You put him in the garbage?" He was trying to be tougher now, trying to get the image of Freddy's eyes, jerking up into his head, out of his mind.
    "Yeah, he's all mixed up with the fish heads an' the eggshells."
    "Where's Skinny?" said Tommy, hearing a reach-in door open.
    "Maybe Skinny found where you keep the cheesecake."
    "They count that shit," said Tommy, still trying to be hard, trying to be nonchalant.
    "So, blame it onna fuckin' waiter, they always stealin' shit."
    "I can't believe this is happening," said Tommy, his resolve wavering. "I can't believe you did this to me."
    "I dunno what you cryin' about," said Sally. "If you wanted to, this could really help you. You come in with me, this could really help."
    "What did he do?" asked Tommy, ignoring the suggestion, hoping it was something really, really awful this man Freddy did, something that would make him hate Freddy, make it easier to live with the knowledge he'd been shot and stabbed and then gutted like a big striped bass just a few feet away, broken down into pieces, portioned out.
    "Who?" asked Sally, "The guy?"
    "Yeah, what did he do?"
    "He made some people mad," said Sally.
    "You whacked a guy out right in front of me," said Tommy. "Right in my fuckin' restaurant. And now you want me to clean up after, right? I heard you in there. You want me to do the fuckin' dishes, clean up the fuckin' blood?"
    "It don't look bad. I rinsed it off for ya," said Sally.
    "Oh, great, fuckin' great, thanks," said Tommy, incredulous, feeling sick to his stomach, all the vodka he'd