Read Online Peep Show by Joshua Braff - Free Book Online Page A

dollars in back taxes. I can’t believe my ears so I say what’s the problem and this fuckin’ tax prick over there says you’re not a musical, you’re a
porn
theater. I look right in his eyes and ask him how I’m supposed to operate without music. Can you tell me that, shmuck? He says, ‘That’s not my problem, sir.’”
    Ira smacks himself on the forehead. “‘Not your problem?’ I say. ‘Fuck you!’ I’m tellin’ ya, I was gonna murder this cue stick, right there, with my fuckin’ hands.”
    All of them laugh and laugh and as it dies down, the other men greet my father with handshakes.
    Ira puts his hand on my dad’s back. “We didn’t know what happened to you, Marty. Saul thought you fell through a manhole.”
    â€œI’m here, I’m here. I didn’t realize all the troops were coming today. This is my boy, David.”
    I meet Roger Goldman, Harvey Casher, and Corky Lehman. Ira has his fingertips on Brandi’s lower back and I can see that it’s making my father nuts. She’s in a very tight evening gown of blood red sequins and there’s a matching top hat that rests tilted on top of her wig. She isn’t speaking or even acknowledging me so I say, “Hello,” and she smiles, as if not wanting to crack the makeup on her cheeks.
    â€œHi,” she says. “I can hardly breathe in this dress.”
    We all walk into the empty theater and Leo, heading to the bar, asks what everyone is drinking. We sit at one of theVIP circular tables that’s placed in the open nook of the C-shaped stage, about two feet from the edge of the pit. Ira laughs and puts the tip of his thumb on Brandi’s chin. He turns her head toward me.
    â€œSee that kid over there with the hair. I knew him when he wasn’t yet a foot tall and still crapping himself. He doesn’t remember me but I came to his bris.”
    â€œI remember you,” I say.
    â€œFrom the
bris
?” All the men laugh.
    â€œNo. After that. You gave me a giant stuffed monkey. A Curious George.”
    My father loosens up and grins at me. “So that’s where that guy came from.”
    â€œOf course, me, I bought it. Your uncle Ira bought it. You done with high school?”
    I nod. “Three weeks.”
    â€œWhere you headed to college?”
    I look at my dad. “Don’t know.”
    â€œDon’t know? Don’t know? Marty, you skimpin’ on the most important time in the boy’s life?”
    â€œCollege is for suckers,” my father says, and I wonder how many times I’ve heard him say it. “One of the biggest scams of our time.”
    â€œ ANYBODY OUT THERE ?” says a voice from the sound booth above, a man my father calls Soundman Sal. “Welcome to the world famous Imperial Theatre. You’re in for quite a private treat this morning because our first dancer’s come all the way from San Francisco to get you hot, hot, hot. Solet’s hear a nice round of applause for the sexy and sultry Tiki Nightly.”
    Her music is “Susie Q” by Creedence and it’s cranked to an almost eardrum-piercing level. My father isn’t happy. He stands, signaling with his thumb for Sal to turn it down. On stage now is Tiki in a blue nightgown-like thing and a wig that reaches to her butt. She winks at me and is already on her knees and crawling toward us. With my father still motioning, the music lowers but only slightly. Ira pulls his chair closer to mine. “So you remember the monkey I got ya, right?”
    I nod. “It’s in my garage.”
    My father lights a cigarette. “Just found a ton of pictures in the garage,” my father tells him. “The Acapulco trip. Remember that? With the parrots, in that place?”
    Ira nods and smiles. “What was it, ’56, ’57?”
    â€œI was gonna say it was 1960 because Mickey was