Mort Ziff Is Not Dead

by Cary Fagan

  “Yes!” cried Gloria. Her sisters ran to hug her.

  Larry and I went over to Marcus. I wasn’t upset about losing the game; I was only worried about how Marcus was going to take it.

  “You almost won.” Larry patted him on the back. But Marcus just glared across the table at the sisters.

  “Those Horvaths,” he hissed under his breath. “We’ll get them back for this.”

  I wanted to say, Do we have to? But I didn’t have the nerve. The three Horvath girls skipped happily out of the games room. The youngest one brushed against me as they passed and I felt a folded piece of paper pushed into my hand. I closed my fingers over it.

  We took the elevator back up. Only when my brothers went into our room to change into their bathing suits did I get a chance to look at the paper in my hand. Unfolding it, I saw that it was a note written on a piece of hotel stationery.

  Meet me in the coffee shop in ten minutes.

  Amy

  I looked sneakily around, slipped the note into my pocket and headed for the coffee shop.

  Grilled Cheese

  The coffee shop was at the very end of the corridor and didn’t even have a real name, just one of those signs on a stand with magnetic letters stuck on crookedly that said Coffee Shop. The wooden booths and scuffed linoleum floor and faded wallpaper made it feel like I had gone backwards in time, into one of those black-and-white movies my mother liked to watch on television. Along the walls were signed photographs of past celebrities that I didn’t recognize. One was a cowboy on a horse, playing guitar. Another was a woman in a fur coat holding up a martini glass and laughing. And then I did recognize one, a thin young man with wavy hair and a thin mustache. It was Mort Ziff. Even back then he didn’t smile.

  A waitress in a uniform was leaning on the counter reading the newspaper while clipping her nails. The only customers I could see were an ancient couple eating bowls of tomato soup. Should I leave? And then I saw Amy’s head pop up from a booth near the back. She must have been hiding.

  “Did I surprise you?” she asked as I walked over to the table.

  “A little. Not as much as your note.”

  “I didn’t want my sisters to see me talk to you. They would have called me a traitor and taken revenge.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  I sat down across from her. Like her sisters, she had long dark hair with bangs over her eyes. Unlike them, she wore glasses. She said, “Okay, the reason I called you here is because I want you to hand it over.”

  “Hand what over?”

  “The secret formula.”

  “The what?”

  “The formula for invisibility. Come on—don’t play dumb. Hand it over.”

  “But I don’t have any formula, I swear.”

  Amy laughed. “I’m just kidding, Norman.”

  I felt myself blushing. “I knew that,” I lied.

  Just then the waitress came over. “If you two are finished your business deal,” she said, “maybe you want to order something.”

  “Okay,” I said. “How is the chicken pot pie?”

  “We use only chickens who volunteer.”

  Amy said, “Did the cheese volunteer to be in the grilled cheese sandwich?”

  “Do I look like somebody who talks to cheese?”

  “I’d say yes,” I said, wanting to get in on the joke.

  The waitress smiled. “So I’ve got a couple of wise guys here. Just my style. My name’s Deloris. How about you two big spenders share a grilled cheese sandwich and an order of fries?”

  “Deal,” Amy said.

  We watched the waitress go back to the kitchen. “Why did you ask me here?” I said.

  “Because of your brothers and my sisters. Maybe you like all this competition and rivalry and being enemies. But it drives me crazy.”

  “Me too,” I said. “But it’s hard standing up to my brothers. It’s always two against one.”

  “Same here. But I could see you were different. So let’s call it a truce between you and me and be friends.”

  Amy held out her hand for me to shake, but I looked at her suspiciously. “Is this a trap? Or a joke?”

  “No, honest.”

  I reached out and we shook hands. “I’m not going to tell my brothers.”

  “And I’m not going to tell my sisters. But maybe we can help each other stand up to them. Don’t get me wrong, I like hanging around with Gloria and Danielle. I just don’t want them bossing me around all the time.”

  “I feel exactly the same. Okay, let’s try to help each other.”

  Deloris came back with our order and put it between us. Amy and I discovered that we both liked vinegar on our fries. It’s a fact that even a crummy grilled sandwich tastes good, and we ate happily.

  “By the way,” Amy said, “how are we going to pay for this?”

  “My dad said if I go into a restaurant I can tell them to charge it to our room.”

  “So you’re taking me out? Like on a date?”

  I blushed for the second time. “I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I joke too much. It’s hard for me to stop.”

  “Me too,” said a voice. The two of us looked up to see Mort Ziff standing beside our booth. His little dog was tucked under his arm. “I see you’ve found my favorite place,” he said. “Would you mind if Napoleon and I sat with you?”

  “Sure!” Amy said.

  “Your dog’s name is Napoleon?”

  Mort Ziff put the dog beside Amy and sat next to me with a groan. “Napoleon was a little man who liked a lot of attention. The same could be said for my dog, even if she is a girl. Please, Deloris, my usual.”

  “A cup of hot water and dry toast coming up.”

  I laughed. “That’s funny.”

  “She’s not being funny,” Mort Ziff said. “That really is what I always have. It’s good for my digestion.”

  “I liked your show yesterday,” Amy said.

  “Me too.”

  “Excellent. That makes two. Nowadays people want something more up-to-date. More hip. To them, seeing me is like going to the museum to stare at the Egyptian mummy.”

  The waitress put down a cup and plate before him. “Thanks, Deloris. You’re an angel.”

  “Not yet I hope.”

  “Did you want to be a comedian when you were a kid?” I asked.

  “When I was a kid I just wanted to survive. So I made the other kids laugh. Actually, my first job was as a shoeshine boy in front of Kaminsky’s Vaudeville Theater. That’s where I met the gangster Toots Tochkiss. I used to bring him coffee, a donut, whatever he wanted.”

  Amy and I looked at each other. “You knew a real gangster?” she said.

  “He was one of the nicer gangsters. He used to threaten people but he never hurt a flea. When I made him laugh he gave me a nickel. He was my first audience. Now listen, you two. You’re in Miami Beach and what are you doing? Talking to a fossil. Go outside and get some fresh air. Scoot!”

  “Okay, Mr. Ziff,” I said. “We’ll see you in the dining room tonight.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll try not to stink up the place.”

  We watched Mort Ziff go and then got up ourselves. “At last,” said Deloris. “I thought I was going to have to throw you out.”

  But as we were leaving the coffee shop I saw my brothers coming out of the games room. “Quick,” I hissed at Amy, pulling her behind a palm tree in a giant pot. We pressed ourselves against it until I dared to look again and see that they were gone.

  “That was close.” Amy let out her breath.

  “Too close,” I said.

  White Shoes

  I went up to the room, thinking that I’d never made a friend before who really understood what it was like to have two older siblings like Marcus and Larry. And there they were, sitting in front of the television watching Planet Furball. “Look!” Larry said when he saw me come in. “It’s the episode where Captain Softpaw becomes the new head of security for rat control.”
>
  “Yeah,” said Marcus. “And I’m the new head of security for Larry control.”

  The door to the room opened and our parents came in loaded down with bags and boxes. “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Your father and I bought some new clothes. Wait a minute and we’ll try them on for you.”

  “Groovy, Mom,” Marcus said. “We can’t wait for a fashion show.”

  I got changed into my bathing suit, grabbed a towel and slipped on my flip-flops. Planet Furball was just ending and Larry turned off the TV.

  “We’re going down to the beach!” I called.

  “Not without us to watch you in the water,” Dad answered back. “Hold on another second.”

  The door opened and Dad came out. He held out his hands and turned in a circle for us to see his new clothes.

  “Dad!” Larry wailed. “You can’t go around like that.”

  “Why not? Everyone here wears clothes like these.”

  Dad had on a bright orange shirt decorated with rows of pineapples. His pants were white. His belt was purple. His shoes were white too. On his head was a straw hat. He looked like he might start tap-dancing.

  “I think he looks adorable,” Mom said as she came out. Now we stared at her. She wore a short wrap-around skirt and a halter top.

  “Ah, Mom,” whined Marcus. “Your belly button is exposed.”

  “Don’t be such a prude. Your father and I aren’t ready for the old-age home yet. Parents can have a little fun too. Now, go on down. Don’t go into the water until we get there. And wear your T-shirts and hats when you’re on the beach. Remember what the taxi driver said about sunburn.”

  The three of us trudged to the elevator. “I can’t believe those clothes,” Larry said.

  “What’s wrong with parents?” Marcus asked. “It’s like they take a holiday and immediately go insane.”

  Our mood changed as soon as we saw the beach. The ocean was a lighter color today, and on the distant horizon a cruise ship floated like something in a dream. We heard the putt-putt of a motor and a small airplane appeared in the air. It was pulling a banner that said Eat at the Crab Shack.

  “What kind of plane is that, Norman?” Larry asked.

  “A Cessna 140. Nice little plane.”

  The sun felt good on my face. We pulled off our T-shirts and flip-flops, and when I looked back I saw our parents putting down their towels. “I’m going to beat you up, ocean!” shouted Marcus. He waded into the water, and as a wave rose toward him he began to punch it with his fists as it went over his head. He came up, his hands in the air. “The new world champion, Marcus Fishbein!”

  “I’m going to be champion!” Larry said, running into the water. Only my brothers, I thought, would try to box with the ocean.

  Hot and tired, we headed back into the hotel. And wouldn’t you know it, the Horvaths were crossing the lobby at the same time. The adults greeted each other while we kids—me and Amy included—glared. Then Amy crossed her eyes, trying to make me laugh and forcing me to look away.

  “We have another challenge for you,” Marcus said to the sisters. “If you aren’t too chicken.”

  “Why should we be chicken? We already beat you at Ping-Pong,” answered Gloria.

  “Oh, you’ll be scared all right,” Larry said. “When I challenge any of you to a Planet Furball trivia contest.”

  As soon as he said the words I saw Danielle’s face light up. That’s when I realized that she must have been a fan of the show too. “You’re on,” she said. “Tomorrow in the library. Five questions each.”

  Suddenly Larry didn’t look so confident. But before he could say anything, some sort of commotion started up near the glass doors of the hotel. We turned to see a group of teenagers jumping around and screaming.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Horvath asked.

  “It looks like some celebrities are coming into the hotel,” Dad said.

  We stopped to watch. I could just make out a long black limousine parked in front of the doors. Then another cheer went up and the crowd parted. Four young men in thin blue suits and with mop-top haircuts entered the hotel.

  “Is that…the Beatles?” Mom asked in a breathless voice.

  “I don’t think so,” Mr. Horvath said. “But it looks a lot like them.”

  The teenagers followed the four young men, asking for autographs. The crowd moved past us to reach the elevators. The doors opened and the four went in. One of them leaned out and waved to the crowd. “Hello, Miami Beach!” he called in an English accent. The crowd roared as the elevator doors closed.

  “Oh my gosh,” said one of the girls. “I just love the Centipedes!”

  The crowd melted away, leaving us and the Horvaths standing there. “Who are the Centipedes?” Mom asked.

  “I think I’ve heard of them,” Mrs. Horvath said. “They’re a pop group. They imitate the Beatles. Look—”

  Mrs. Horvath pointed to a sign propped on an easel beside the dining room entrance.

  STARTING TONIGHT!

  DIRECT FROM LONDON, ENGLAND,

  THE MUSIC SENSATION…

  THE CENTIPEDES!

  “Won’t that be fun!” Mom said.

  “As long as I still get to eat,” Larry said. “Tonight I’m having veal Parmesan.”

  But Amy and I looked at each other. We moved away from the others. Amy whispered into my ear, “What about Mort Ziff?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He can’t perform in the dining room if the Centipedes are there. This doesn’t look good.”

  “Meet you at our spot in ten minutes.” And then, because she saw her sisters and my brothers looking at us, she said in a loud voice, “And you smell bad too!”

  The Grim Reaper

  Upstairs, I changed quickly out of my bathing suit. Marcus started to get Larry ready for the next day’s contest by asking him questions about Planet Furball. I told my parents that I wanted to buy a pack of gum at the gift shop and took the elevator down. When I reached the coffee shop I saw Deloris playing solitaire with an old deck of cards on the counter.

  “Can I sit at a table?” I asked.

  “Better than the floor,” she said. “And just so you know, we’re out of French champagne.”

  I had just sat down when Amy came in and joined me. “My dad said I could order a milkshake. Share it with me?”

  “Sure.”

  I said, “Those four guys sure look a lot like the Beatles.”

  “That’s the point. I guess the hotel owner thinks that they’ll attract customers.”

  “Have you ever seen the owner? Herbert Spitzer? I’ve heard some weird things about him.”

  “I have too. I heard that his rooms are all wallpapered with hundred dollar bills. But no, I’ve never seen him. I don’t think he ever comes down from the penthouse.”

  “What do you think is going to happen to Mort Ziff? I feel really bad for him.”

  “I know. But if the Centipedes are playing in the dining room, that must mean he’s going to be out of a job. I wonder if he knows.”

  The waitress brought the milkshake and two straws. I tore the end of the straw wrapper and blew it at Amy—at the very same time she blew hers at me. We leaned over the tall, frosted glass and started to slurp.

  “I see my young friends have become regulars.”

  Looking up, I saw Mort Ziff with Napoleon. “Hi, Mr. Ziff,” Amy said. “Want to join us?”

  “Just for a minute. So tell me, what do you two dangerous people want to do when you grow up.”

  “I want to be a chef in my own restaurant,” Amy said.

  “What do you know how to cook?”

  “Macaroni and cheese. Also peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”

  “I would definitely dine there. And you, young man?”

  “I want to design airplanes.”

  “Do me a favor and design an airplane with a bed in it so I can sleep.”

  I saw a man come into the coffee shop and look around. He spotted Mort
Ziff and walked toward our table. He was skinny and wore a bow tie and didn’t smile.

  “I thought I might find you here,” he said, ignoring Amy and me. “I don’t know why you like this depressing coffee shop. Mr. Spitzer is planning to rip it out and put in a martini bar.”

  “There goes the neighborhood,” Mort Ziff said. “Norman and Amy, this rude man is Herbert Spitzer’s personal assistant. Or as I prefer to call him, the Grim Reaper. He’s the only person allowed to be in the great man’s presence. Is there something you want?”

  “I don’t want anything,” said the man. “But Mr. Spitzer has some information he wishes me to convey to you. If you will please follow me to my desk. Right now.”

  Mort Ziff sighed. “When the man who writes your paycheck says jump, I always say, ‘Into which hole?’ Good-bye my friends, see you later.”

  We watched them go. “Poor Mort Ziff,” said Amy. “He doesn’t even know he’s going to be fired. And not even by Herbert Spitzer himself but by the Grim Reaper.”

  I couldn’t think of a word to say. At last we got up, only this time we were careful to make sure my brothers weren’t in the corridor. But when we got to the lobby Amy grabbed my arm. There by the front desk were her sisters, staring right at us.

  I pushed her away. “Yeah?” I said in a loud voice. “Well, you stink!”

  Amy smiled at me. Then she ran to join her sisters.

  Ooh-Ooh-Ooh

  Once again, Mom made us take showers before dressing for dinner. I’d never been so clean in my life. And after we dressed, she lined us up—“like a firing squad,” Marcus said—and combed our hair for us, telling us not to squirm.