92
JASCHA KESSLER
"Sit down, Mr. Steward. Take the load off." Gruber dropped
his arm across Mr. Acker's shoulders, and he stiffened. "Sit down,
sit down, I said." Acker sat. "You got your envelope today, didn't
you? How come I never see you spend some of that stuffed cabbage
in my little joint here? What's the matter, they got better booze
somewhere else, or momma says no?"
Not exactly the most tactful, was it? First of all, it was none of
his business one way or the other what he did or did not do, and
second place ... but was it a hint or maybe an order?
If
so, he
couldn't be told where to go after working hours and how to spend
his hardeamed money. Well, but what was this, a company town?
Moreover, what did Gruber think he could do to him if he chose
not
to come in here? He had his season contract; so he couldn't
be
canned without showing cause, which
not drinking
definitely wasn't.
Acker answered with what he thought quiet, candid self-respect:
"Mr. Gruber, you know very well I have an apartment and wife
I
can go home to when I finish my time here."
"Yeah yeah, Acker. Dump it somewhere else. Me too. But that
means you can't socialize at the bar once in a while? All my em·
ployees are permitted to take a
drink
here. I even like them to.
Maybe not for each and every on Saturday night, but you're on the
executive staff here. I want you to feel free, because you're welcome
to. So, what do you like?"
"Thank you, but nothing just now."
"Don't talk like a child, please."
"Well, let's say a glass of ginger ale
is
all."
"Hey Salvatore. Bring Mr. Acker some ginger ,ale. Make it
with
the Haig
&
Haig-Pinch Bottle!"
"Mr. Gruber, thank you, but I don't think I want-"
"Salvatore, make it a double, eh? Say, Sal, I want you to meet
the man who has been my steward here, believe it or not, seven
weeks already. I bet you don't even know him. Sal, meet Sol; Solly,
Sally." Gruber coughed up a dirty chuckle.
"Pleased," Mr. Acker said. "But it's Solomon. Nobody
ever
calls me Solly." And, not considering what he might be bringing on
himself, he took a long swallow from his glass.
"That's better, Solly," Gruber said, and clapped his
back.
"Now, what's the story: are you in or are you out?"
