the chairman of the board and my unofficial Jewish grandfather, Hymie Zuckerman. Hymie started the agency to help people and he remained committed to that mission. With a chain of Crawford’s most successful dry cleaners, Hymie had made a fortune by working his ass off and he wanted to help some of the people who weren’t as lucky as he was. I never got the impression that Hymie felt that because he worked his ass off he deserved any more than anyone else. It was like he saw his work ethic as something he was lucky to have, like it was a tool that he had that others didn’t.
He didn’t have much use for Claudia, but he knew the agency needed to follow regulations and so he viewed her as a necessary evil. He gave her the respect her title warranted but he never, ever warmed up to her. He did, however, treat me like I was his adopted grandson.
I heard some noise in the lobby and I knew it was him. Hymie’s entrances were never quiet.
“Where is he?” he announced, coming in with his thick old-world Jew accent. “Where’s that Harp-Polack pug of mine? Where is he?”
I stood to greet him, and he reached up and pinched me on the cheek and shook my face until it felt like I was getting a blood blister. He was about five foot two and mostly bald with brown liver spots over his scalp. He had black glasses, polyester pants, white shoes, and a matching white belt. He was over eighty and his eyes were a little cloudy, but they shined when he smiled.
“Big shot, fighting in the Garden like Barney Ross,” he said. He was a big fight fan from the days when Jews like Barney Ross dominated the sport.
“That’s right, but no one’s mistaking me for Barney, I’m afraid.”
“What’s this, son? Have confidence—it’s your time!”
“I’ll do my best,” I said when Claudia appeared.
She greeted Hymie and ushered him into the boardroom to have her high-level, ultra-important meeting. I rolled my desk chair to talk with Monique.
“This sucks, having to hang around so the Michelin Woman can do her grandstanding,” I said.
“Karen and I are supposed to have dinner with another couple,” Monique said. “I just wish she’d give us an idea about when we could leave,” she said.
“You have any guesses on why Howard has picked me to be his confidant?” I asked.
She thought for a second, gazing down at the carpet with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen.
“Yeah, I think I do,” she looked right at me. “There’s something about you, Duff. When you’re for someone, you exude a sort of unconditional positive regard.”
“What?”
“I’m serious. You’ll joke it off, but you connect with people and when they’re the hopeless type, you do it very strongly.”
“Isn’t it just the handsome good looks and my strikingly handsome lanternlike jaw?”
“I knew you wouldn’t take the compliment,” she said, and she rolled back up to her desk. She wasn’t pissed or doing anything for drama. If she identified that you were about to communicate in a disingenuous way, she moved on. That was Monique.
The afternoon snailed on and I was starting to get pissed because I had to keep calling Smitty to push back our departure. I didn’t really care what time we hit the city but he was all about schedules and uniformity and he’d get wacky if we varied from it. He was already getting a little perturbed on the phone.
At five thirty the boardroom door opened and they all started to file out. My desk phone rang and I went to get it to hopefully tell Smitty I’d be on my way soon.
It was Howard.
“Duffy, it’s me.”
“Howard, slow down and talk to me. Tell me where you are and what’s going on.”
“I can’t stay on, Duff. I know they’ll have the phones traced and I don’t blame that on you at all.”
“Howard, look—”
“Duffy, you need to know it wasn’t me. It’s them and they’re afraid of what I know. It’s real big and it will ruin their lives. Don’t believe I did
He didn’t have much use for Claudia, but he knew the agency needed to follow regulations and so he viewed her as a necessary evil. He gave her the respect her title warranted but he never, ever warmed up to her. He did, however, treat me like I was his adopted grandson.
I heard some noise in the lobby and I knew it was him. Hymie’s entrances were never quiet.
“Where is he?” he announced, coming in with his thick old-world Jew accent. “Where’s that Harp-Polack pug of mine? Where is he?”
I stood to greet him, and he reached up and pinched me on the cheek and shook my face until it felt like I was getting a blood blister. He was about five foot two and mostly bald with brown liver spots over his scalp. He had black glasses, polyester pants, white shoes, and a matching white belt. He was over eighty and his eyes were a little cloudy, but they shined when he smiled.
“Big shot, fighting in the Garden like Barney Ross,” he said. He was a big fight fan from the days when Jews like Barney Ross dominated the sport.
“That’s right, but no one’s mistaking me for Barney, I’m afraid.”
“What’s this, son? Have confidence—it’s your time!”
“I’ll do my best,” I said when Claudia appeared.
She greeted Hymie and ushered him into the boardroom to have her high-level, ultra-important meeting. I rolled my desk chair to talk with Monique.
“This sucks, having to hang around so the Michelin Woman can do her grandstanding,” I said.
“Karen and I are supposed to have dinner with another couple,” Monique said. “I just wish she’d give us an idea about when we could leave,” she said.
“You have any guesses on why Howard has picked me to be his confidant?” I asked.
She thought for a second, gazing down at the carpet with the darkest brown eyes I’d ever seen.
“Yeah, I think I do,” she looked right at me. “There’s something about you, Duff. When you’re for someone, you exude a sort of unconditional positive regard.”
“What?”
“I’m serious. You’ll joke it off, but you connect with people and when they’re the hopeless type, you do it very strongly.”
“Isn’t it just the handsome good looks and my strikingly handsome lanternlike jaw?”
“I knew you wouldn’t take the compliment,” she said, and she rolled back up to her desk. She wasn’t pissed or doing anything for drama. If she identified that you were about to communicate in a disingenuous way, she moved on. That was Monique.
The afternoon snailed on and I was starting to get pissed because I had to keep calling Smitty to push back our departure. I didn’t really care what time we hit the city but he was all about schedules and uniformity and he’d get wacky if we varied from it. He was already getting a little perturbed on the phone.
At five thirty the boardroom door opened and they all started to file out. My desk phone rang and I went to get it to hopefully tell Smitty I’d be on my way soon.
It was Howard.
“Duffy, it’s me.”
“Howard, slow down and talk to me. Tell me where you are and what’s going on.”
“I can’t stay on, Duff. I know they’ll have the phones traced and I don’t blame that on you at all.”
“Howard, look—”
“Duffy, you need to know it wasn’t me. It’s them and they’re afraid of what I know. It’s real big and it will ruin their lives. Don’t believe I did
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