Authors: Laurence Shames
"Thanks," said Tuschman. "Thanks for everything. You'll see, I'll come back tan and sell my ass off."
He turned to go. He was not yet forty, but these days, when he pivoted, he felt old tackles in his knees, and the small bones in his ankles remembered rebounds when he didn't land quite right.
He was just rounding the wall of frosted glass when he heard Moe Kleiman chuckle. "The dog. Hey Al, ya know something?"
The salesman took a step back toward his boss.
The boss lowered his voice. "The other guys, it drives them nuts, they constantly wonder why you're always top banana. But I know. I could give it to you in a word."
Al Tuschman did not ask what the word was. He didn't want to know. Like everybody else, he had his superstitious side. Something worked, you didn't jinx it.
Moe Kleiman told him anyway. "Relief."
"Relief?"
"Relief... People see you, A1—big shoulders, chest hair up to the Adam's apple—they figure,
Oy
, I'm dealing with a tough guy. Their guard goes up. But it soon comes down, and then you've got 'em. Why does it come down? I'll tell you: Because they're relieved to see you really are a softie."
Pleased with his analysis, Moe Kleiman smiled.
A1 Tuschman tried to, but it didn't work. His mouth slid to one side of his face; he looked down at a swatch book, shuffled his feet. A softie. Softie as in pushover? As in coward? Was it really that obvious? Did everybody know? He briefly met his boss's gaze, made another bent attempt at smiling, and steered his aching legs toward the partition.
Moe Kleiman watched the best salesman edge around the frosted glass and understood too late that he'd barged in on a secret, that he should have kept his mouth shut. A note of pleading in his voice, he said, "Al, hey, I meant it as a compliment."
***
Look for the following additional titles by Laurence Shames on
http://www.smashwords.com
Welcome to Paradise
Florida Straights
Scavenger Reef
Sunburn
The Naked Detective
Tropical Depression
Virgin Heat