I said, “I’m glad to meet you,” and we laughed. I thought she’d got a swell name. I liked that. It suited her.
“Well, Miss Jackson,” I said, offering her a cigarette, “you’re Spencer’s secretary… right?”
She took the cigarette. “That’s right,” she said. “Don’t you write articles?”
I lit her cigarette and mine. “That’s how I keep the wolf from the door,” I said. “It’s a grand way to earn a livin’. I could tell you stories that would do things to you.”
“Well, perhaps one day you’ll tell me.”
That’s the way it went. Tossing flowers at each other all the way. For the first time since I reached the age I sat in a taxi and didn’t make a pass. Most dames are so dumb you had to get going or you’d die of boredom. Others think they’ve wasted their time if you don’t, but this baby was just worth looking at and saving it for a big occasion.
Sloppy Joe’s was pretty full when we got there, but the Greek head waiter saw me and waved from the far end of the room. We went down the aisle between the tables. I got a big kick out of the way the men stopped eating to get a gander at Mardi. Even those guys with their own molls had a quick side look.
The Greek was all over me. I’d given his eating-joint a good write-up every so often, and I fed on the house whenever I liked.
He had a table all right. Mardi gave him an amused smile as he bowed himself in half. I could see she was making a big hit with the old guy, and somehow that pleased me, too.
I saw him shoot me a quick look and I gave him a grin. “You’re lookin’ pretty good,” I said.