The Best Tip Ever
by Mark Best
Benny was nervous when he entered the boss's
office. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Lambrusco?"
"Yes, Benny, I did. The boys here tell
me you got quite a tip tonight."
This made Benny relax. He was afraid that
he had done something wrong. It was only
when he'd made a mistake that Mr. Lambrusco
wanted to see him. "Yes, sir. A guy,
he had himself two beers, and he left me
a hundred dollars and told me to keep it." Benny looked around, nervous again, afraid
that some of the others might want to take
his money. He knew that he wasn't one of
"The Boys." He also knew that the
only reason Mr. Lambrusco gave him a job
was because his father had worked for Mr.
Lambrusco, and had died on the job. Benny
never knew how.
"Wow," said Mr. Lambrusco, "that's
some tip."
"It's the best tip ever!"
"You must have really been nice to him,
Benny."
"Oh I was. I poured the beer just like
Johnny taught me, so there was only a little
foam. And I made sure the popcorn bowl was
right by him in case he got hungry."
"What did this fellow look like, Benny? I want to make sure we're all real nice to
him if he ever comes in here again."
"Well," Benny said, trying to remember.
Thinking was not a skill that came effortlessly
to him. "He was a big guy, bigger than
me. He was blonde, had really blue eyes.
Oh, and he had a bunch of them little holes
on his chin, like my brother Joey had on
his face after he had the chicken pox."
"Our old friend, Detective McMichael,"
said a voice from behind Benny.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw that it
was Jack Marion. Mr. Lambrusco never went
anywhere without Jack.
"He wasn't no detective, Jack. Honest."
Benny looked back at Lambrusco.
"He said he was a salesman. I think
he even knew you, Mr. Lambrusco."
"Why do you think that, Benny?"
"Cause he asked about you, is why. He
asked if you were coming in tonight."
"And what did you tell him?"
"Gee, Mr. Lambrusco, I never know when
you're coming in. And I remembered
what you told me that other time, about not
telling no one when you are here.
So I told him I didn't know."
"Did he believe you Benny?"
"Not at first he didn't. He kept asking
me if I was sure, like maybe I was lying.
And I told him I was sure, that every Wednesday
I knew that you were at the warehouse."
"You told him about the warehouse?"
Jack asked.
"No, I just told him that was where
you usually were on Wednesday on account
of that's when we get our booze in. That's
how I knew he knew you, cause he said 'You
mean the warehouse down on Willard?' And I said, 'No, the one on Seventeenth and
Broadway,' and he said 'Oh yeah.' I don't think I've ever been in the warehouse
on Willard, Mr. Lambrusco. What do we have
there?"
"Benny, did you tell him anything else
about the warehouse?"
"No, sir, only what he asked me. He wanted to know if you were there when
all the shipments came in, and I said no,
that you only went when we got the booze
in, or when Mr. Escober brings in a shipment."
Marion swore under his breath, and Benny
got nervous again. "Don't worry,
Mr. Lambrusco. I knew you wouldn't want to
talk to him, so I sent him somewhere I know
you never go. Remember when you sent me to
that other place on the South Side? The one
with all the girls?" Benny got a faraway
look. He had never had a girlfriend. "Anyway,
I remember Miss Catherine saying that you
never, ever came there, and that they never
even mentioned your name there. So I told
him that's where you were," Benny said,
proudly.
"Benny, Benny, Benny." Lambrusco shook his head. "I warned
you after the last time you weren't to tell
anyone anything about me. I really wish you had listened."
Benny instinctively put his hand in his pocket,
where he had put his tip.
"You're not going to take my tip, are
you, Mr. Lambrusco?"
"No, Benny, I'm not taking your tip,"
he said, as he nodded behind Benny to Jack
Marion.
Benny smiled and held the hundred dollar
bill tighter inside his pocket.
He had never
had that much money before and,
despite being
in Mr. Lambrusco's office, he
started day
dreaming about how he was going
to spend
the best tip ever. He was so
engrossed in
his thoughts that he never heard
the metallic
click behind him, or felt the
cold tickle
when the barrel touched the back
of his head. Table of Contents
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