Read Online Dorothy Parker Drank Here by Ellen Meister - Free Book Online

don’t really give a damn anymore.”
    â€œSo why are you here?”
    Pete picked up the bottle and poured himself another glass. He refilled Ted’s, too.
    â€œCan’t you guess?” Pete asked.
    â€œI owe you a manuscript.” At the time Ted went AWOL, he had been under contract to write another book for Litton Press.
    â€œDon’t be an idiot.”
    â€œWhat, then?”
    â€œTed, you’ve got an
operable
brain tumor.”
    â€œGene Hoffman has a big goddamned mouth.”
    â€œYou’ve got to do it, Teddy. Let them save your life.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œI don’t know. So you can get laid? Write another book? Drink a case of Hennessy? Teach a class? Win the Pulitzer? See the sunrise over the damned Alps? Pick one. Pick ten. Because the alternative is what we fight.”
    â€œI’m done fighting.”
    â€œI don’t think you are.”
    â€œYou don’t know shit.”
    â€œI know this. Refusing this operation is your last
fuck you
to the world for not believing in you.”
    Ted stared into his drink. “And we were having so much fun.”
    â€œDon’t get cute.”
    The men sat in silence for several minutes and Ted wrestled with a knot of turmoil even the cognac couldn’t unwind. Should he pull out the box or shouldn’t he? He glanced over at Pete and imaginedhim at the liquor store, deciding which cognac to buy and choosing the expensive one. Because Ted was his friend. And because Ted was dying.
    At last he stood and went to the closet. He pushed aside a green valise and dragged a large cardboard carton from the floor in the back. Bending to lift it made his head throb, but he did it anyway. He carried the box to Pete and dropped it at his feet.
    â€œWhat is this?” Pete said. “A manuscript?”
    Exhausted from the effort, Ted dropped into his chair. “No,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, as if it would relieve the pressure in his head. As if anything other than death or a surgeon’s knife would relieve the pressure in his head. “It’s three.”
    â€œ
Three
manuscripts?”
    â€œIt’s been over twenty-five years, Salz. I had to do
something.
”
    â€œAre you giving me permission to publish these?”
    â€œDo whatever you want. It’s my best work, especially
Louse.
”
    Pete made a face. “‘Louse’?”
    â€œThe book is better than the title.”
    â€œRotting garbage is better than that title. What’s it about?”
    â€œA man who’s not as complicated as he likes to think he is.”
    Pete picked up the box and put it on his lap. He stared down at it like he was witnessing a miracle. “Three new books by Ted Shriver. Sweet fancy Moses.”
    â€œThree
posthumous
books by Ted Shriver,” he corrected.
    Pete picked up the title page on top and looked down. “‘For Audrey,’” he read. “Are they all dedicated to women who hate you?”
    â€œ
Genuine Lies
is dedicated to a girl I haven’t seen since 1978, so I have no idea if she hates me. Met her at a book party. She had this hand tremor she kept trying to hide from me. It broke my heart.”
    â€œWhat about the third book?”
    â€œ
Under the El
. Dedicated to a certain male friend I may have inadvertently screwed over.”
    Pete stared at him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting what he’d heard. “I’m touched,” he finally said.
    â€œSee if you like the book first.”
    Pete put the box on the floor, reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a business card. He put it on the table between them.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Ted asked.
    â€œTop neurosurgeon in New York.”
    Ted looked at the card. “They’re all the ‘top neurosurgeon in New York.’”
    â€œWhat did yours tell you?”
    â€œThat if I had the operation right away, my odds of