All Gone by Stephen Dixon Page B

refined on so little dough. Too bad too. He knew his stuff. Psyched this suite out immediately as the finest he’s ever seen and knew all the names of the architect styles: New Renaissance, Neo-Smorgasbord. He said we have the best view in New York. You ever seen one like it?”
    â€œSomething like it. When I was in a paying play once, I went to a dentist on Central Park South to have a couple of teeth capped.”
    â€œIt couldn’t’ve been anything like this. Here, take a look from this window. There’s the lake. Way back there’s Harlem. What are those twin towers off 110th? They really sunk a bundle into those beauties and are going to lose most of their teeth. You see, we’re all attorneys here, Mrs. Rothblatt excluded—”
    â€œPenny,” Penny says.
    â€œPenny. You know each other. And we’re in lots of different businesses here, so I thought this suite and the park and Queens and Brooklyn and all the bridges at their feet would impress our clients, and it works. Everything in life is show, right?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWhat’re you talking about? You’re an actor Penny says. You said it yourself about your capped teeth. So you most of anybody knows from shows and clothes and the impression you make is the impression people keep. Maybe now you can’t afford that kind of show. ‘Between jobs’ you people like to say, which is why you’re here and we get the benefit from it—but with us, more scratch we put out for show, more we get back, but proportionately. Same with any effort except sex sometimes and sitting on the toilet, present feminine company excluded.”
    â€œMort knows. Women don’t go potty. Tell him what he came here for.”
    He tells me about my job, hours and duties. “More time you work at it, more money you make and quicker you get your commissions from us. One September we had a guy who practically slept on the street to rent our apartments and he rented all of them in a week what would have taken anyone else a month. A real hustler. Remember Gatbar?”
    â€œGainsborough. He’s in jail now,” Penny says.
    â€œNot for anything he did for us. He was a clean Gene all the way, not a light bulb was missing. Did I cover everything, Pen?”
    â€œYou better show Mort the apartments so he knows what he’s selling and where his office is at.”
    â€œWhere’s the keys, Mrs. Rothbrains?”
    She takes them out of her purse, a ring of about two hundred keys.
    â€œWe haven’t got them all marked yet,” he says, “but the super’s going to do that today.”
    â€œMarked yet? That’s a laugh.”
    â€œEverything to her’s a laugh. I ought to get you replaced with a TV laugh track. You know, can you for canned laughter. Hey, to me that’s funny, no?”
    â€œWonderful. I showed a prospective an apartment today but actually couldn’t because after going through the ninety-ninth key that didn’t fit the front door, she left. Can you blame her? You got to get each door key marked or you’re going to rent zero this year.”
    â€œThat’s what I said. Joe the super. I guess we can take a cab over. Think I can be back for the Danube case by four?”
    â€œIt shouldn’t take you any longer than that,” Penny says. “Mail these on the way?” She gives him a packet.
    â€œI’m paying her but she acts like my boss. Hey, you pay me from your salary from now on, all right?”
    â€œGreat, if you triple mine.”
    â€œA raise? I’ll give you a raise. Sure I’ll give you, a triple one. And next week I get to play the boss. Alternate weeks, got it?”
    â€œWonderful. Don’t get lost.”
    We get a cab. In it he says “You know, I also was an actor once. Not seriously for the movies like you maybe, but commercials. I’m married but was seeing this actress, an