by Alan Furst
“My fee,” says Mr. Papanis, lighting a small cigar, “seems high to you, 15,000 dollars. But I have asked you none of the questions that banks ask you, and a good business should return about twenty percent net annually. I am worth the investment, Mr. Levin. I shall also tell you that Mr. Lieberman gets a small percentage for bringing me your business, and that you are not the first client of his I have ever helped. Tom, how is that charming young man I assisted in getting the Defense Department contract?”
“Grover is fine, doin’ real well. A few cost overruns, but he’s the only one in the country who can make that little device. He’s gonna be a rich man by the time he’s twenty-one.”
Sophy’s voice comes from somewhere underneath the desk. “I got Mr. Soong right away. He gave me two to look at.”
“Thank you Sophy.” He turns to me. “Good luck young man. Be sure to allow your attorney to advise you. Sophy will give you the names of some restaurants you may want to buy. If you like, just tell me what interests you and Mr. Soong and I will make all the arrangements. I would like to have the remainder of the money as soon as possible.”
I stand up, shake hands, “Thank you, Mr. Papanis. I’ll have it here tomorrow.”
“Good day, gentlemen.”
I am crazy excited. Downstairs, I run into the first restaurant I find to pee. I notice that there are no towels in the men’s room. Already I’m looking at the world a new way.
“So,” says Lieberman, “now you’ll make your parents happy.”
Then we’re in the MGB and it only takes one look at the first restaurant on the list to convince me. Mandarin Paradise is at 35th and Lexington, and with the restaurant comes a huge studio apartment with a skylight directly above it. A staircase leads right past the refrigerator. Head’s heaven, your own Chinese restaurant at the bottom of the stairs. We talk to the owner a little bit, a very ancient Chinese, though Lieberman does most of the talking, having to do with volume and salary. The old man says “No more cooking for me. Must find new chef. Time I retired.” Lieberman scratches his head for a moment but in a second I’ve dragged him to the car and we’re sailing over the 59th Street Bridge and flying out Queens Boulevard. “There it is,” I yell and Lieberman roars into a parking place.
I’m out of the car and running up the alley to the back of the building before Lieberman can unwind himself from the front seat. I fling open the back door to the kitchen and I can smell that incredible Szechuanese spice all around me. There are two or three Chinese men in the kitchen, washing pots and chopping shrimp and pork, and one puts out a tentative hand to stop me, a sort of “who-are-you?” gesture, but I go tear-assing by him. I’m still pretty wrecked from the Congolese Buds and Flowers and the smells in that kitchen are making me insane. Visions of Francine and Mona are dancing through my head, superimposed on an enormous menu. The guy I’m after is maybe five feet eleven, he’s about forty or so, with a bandanna around his head, a ladle in his hand, and a huge white apron tied around his waist. I put on the brakes before I knock him into the stock pot and say “I just bought a Chinese restaurant. Come work for me.” He waves the ladle in a little circle, like it’s thinking for him, and says “How much?” “One-third owner,” I say. He nods up and down and twirls that ladle a bit wider and says “Where?”
“Thirty-fifth and Lex. Called the Mandarin Paradise now.”
“When do I start?”
“Monday.”
“You got another name?”
“Yeah. Long Hai.”
“Far out,” he says to me and smiles. “See you Monday.”
The next morning Genelle and Robbie come in on the bus from the Adirondacks. Since hiring my Szechuan chef I’ve managed to get a mattress for us, king-size, and one for Robbie, into that studio apartment. Robbie’s got a neat loft to sleep in at the back of the apartment which’ll give us lots of privacy. They’re both tired from the trip and don’t say much on the way there. Genelle takes a look around, says “Oh yeah” and starts making a list of things that have to get bought. Robbie says he’s tired, gives me a kiss, and puts himself to bed on his mattress.
Genelle and I take off our clothes and just lie there for a while, peering up through the skylight and listening to the plates and forks clanking down below, and smelling the incredible smells.
It’s about 11 a.m., and the sun is filtering down through the skylight in little shafts and Genelle says “Are we going away any more?”
“Two weeks a year. Vacation.”
“That’s nice. Where are you gonna be living?”
“Right here.”
“Oh yeah? Where am I living, back at the other place?”
“Right here.”
She kisses me on the lips. It’s such a nice mouth she’s got, Louisiana French mouth, an easy sulker, with a cleft chin underneath it and a deep division above it, what’s called an Angel’s Kiss. Story is that when you’re born, you know all the secrets of the universe, but an angel kisses you between your nose and your upper lip, so that you can’t ever tell anybody those secrets, and that’s why it’s called an Angel’s Kiss.
I start to put my arms around her but she puts her hand on my chest and pushes me back down. She kisses my chest and my stomach and then takes me in her mouth for a long, long time, very slowly. I find some new colors in the spectrum, quiet ones I didn’t know they had in there, and I lie back and exhale a long, long breath. “That was pretty nice. We’ll have to do that every day.”
Genelle looks up at me and turns that mouth into a smile I’ve never seen her smile before.
“Every day but Thursday,” she says.
Zen Master: “What is the sound of one hand clapping?”
Zen Pupil: “Whooosh, whooosh.”
On October 17, 1970, the Securities and Exchange Commission denied the application of Mr. Lavem Stoller, doing business as Queen Green Bean, Inc., for public sale of shares on the New York Stock Exchange. In the letter of denial the Commission stated that the fiscal stability of the campany, due in chief part to a highly unstable condition of the work force, did not recommend it for acceptance at that time. The denial was not appealed and the application was not resubmitted.
On October 20, 1970, the business license section of New York State approved the application of a corporation consisting of Mr. Roger Levin, Miss Genelle Fournier, and Mr. T’Sin Lu Chen for change of name from “Mandarin Paradise” to “Long Hai” for the purpose of operating a restaurant. The attorney of record in the application was Mr. Thomas Lieberman.
On October 28, 1970, a business license was granted to Mr. Raymond Byszka et al. for operation of a restaurant, to be known as The Transcendental Taco Company, on 8th and Madison Streets in Webersburg, Pa.
On November 3, 1970, the State of Virginia granted a license for the possession of a handgun, and a license as a private investigator, to Mr. Edward Hugh Roosevelt, formerly an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency, currently employed by Southwest Investigative Services, Inc., of Annandale, Va.
On November 9, 1970, after a long series of lengthy private meetings between counsel for the applicant and counsel for the Commission, and after one week of deadlocked voting, the Securities and Exchange Commission approved for sale to the public on the New York Stock Exchange 10,000 shares of stock in the newly formed company, Tomorrow Defense Industries, a sole proprietorship of Mr. Grover Dill, a minor.
