Then I heard a commotion coming down the stairs.
'I invited myself!' came an angry voice. 'Where is he?'
The figures in the room glanced up expectantly. A little man in a wool jacket appeared in the doorway, squinting through the cigar smoke. Snow dusted his watchman's cap. The men turned away in disappointment. Whoever they expected wasn't this person, and he was already arguing with the waiter, who pointed at me.
The man lurched stiffly forward, and then I was looking up into a red face of about sixty, but a tough sixty- battered and doggish.
'Good evening,' I said in a mood of full-bellied indulgence, the night having provided already far more entertainment than expected.
'Where's Jay?' the man asked.
I put down my fork. 'Not here.'
The man stared accusingly at the plates on the table, the empty glasses. ' Was he here?'
I told him yes.
'When? Just now?'
'Maybe half an hour ago,' I said.
'Who're you?' he demanded.
'I come here a lot, I just met him tonight.'
The man winced. 'Come on, guy!' he said. 'I got to find him!'
'I don't know where he is. He went out on the town.'
The man examined my face, apparently concluded I was truthful, and, to my surprise, dropped down across from me in the booth.
'I'm just going to sit here a minute, need to rest. I was on the road for two hours.' He pulled off his gloves, revealing enormous hands, their fingers crooked and swollen, almost painful to look at, nails packed with grime. 'Jesum, I'm tired. Had to park on the sidewalk. Snow's coming out of the northeast, be bad soon.' He pushed the dishes to the side, although not without eyeing a few soggy fries. 'You got any idea where he is?'
'Not really.'
He pulled off his cap. His hair appeared to be styled with motor oil. 'How about where he's gonna be later tonight-' His face puckered to a leer. 'You know what I mean?'
Probably Allison's apartment. 'I might see him tomorrow, downtown.'
'No, that's too late.' He thumbed one of his teeth, as if it might be loose.
'You a friend of his?'
'Friend?' He shook his head. 'Everybody calls me Poppy.' He didn't offer me his hand, but instead glanced around the Havana Room. 'Pretty swank, this place, full of assholes. Wouldn't let me in at first.'
'You try to call him?' I asked, assuming Jay didn't want to be contacted.
' 'Course I did.' Poppy noticed my uneaten cake. 'You want that?'
I waved it toward him. He pulled the plate close and chewed diligently for a minute, then drained one of the water glasses.
At that moment, the barman approached. He nodded at me apologetically and addressed Poppy.
'Sir, this is a private room.'
'The door was unlocked.'
'The door was closed, sir.'
'I opened it.'
'Sir, they're telling me that there's a big truck full of potatoes parked on our sidewalk.'
Poppy nodded. 'That's mine.'
'Sir, they're asking you to move it.'
'I will.' He smiled at me, teeth smeared with dark cake. 'When I'm ready.'
'Sir, it's very inconvenient for-'
Poppy swiveled. 'It'll be very inconvenient if I dump those potatoes in front of this place, don't you think?'
'Sir, I expect that we'll need to call the police.'
'Fine, call them.'
'Sir?'
'But don't expect them to pick up something like nine thousand frozen potatoes.'
The barman eased away.
'You got a pen?'
I did. He slid an embossed HAVANA ROOM napkin in front of himself and tried to write. 'All right, I'll-' The napkin tore.
I handed him another. He tried again.
'What's wrong?'
'Circulation's gone. This one'- he held up his right hand, wiggled the fingers stiffly-'got run over by a loader sixteen years ago, which lemme tell you hurt like the devil.' He lifted the left. 'And this one- I got the repeating motion thing. Tendons all gummed up. Got no power, no grip.'
With the second napkin, Poppy was successful, moving the pen slowly, like a boy carving his initials into a tree. His eyebrows lifted with each finished letter. 'Here. Give this to him.'
'Can I read it?' I asked.
'I ain't stopping you.'
The napkin said:
JAY- We got a probelm w/Hershul amp; the cat. Its not my faullt. Get out there quick. I cant do nothing. I'll wate all night.
Poppy
He pulled his cap back on, stood up. 'I can trust you to get it to him?' he asked.
I slipped the note into my pocket. 'I'll see what I can do.'
He swiped a handful of cold french fries and slipped them into his coat pocket. 'You'll try, right?'
It was then that I noticed the beautiful black woman I'd seen before in a blue evening gown at the other end of the room. The men looked alert now. Was she the one they'd been waiting for?
'You'll try, right?' Poppy repeated.
I looked back at him. 'Sure.'
'I mean tonight, fella,' he coughed. 'As soon as goddamn possible.'
'Yes, sure,' I mumbled. The black woman, so tall and elegant, was greeting each patron with a handshake and warm smile. The literary man had slipped forward off his stool in anticipation.
'Hey, hey, I'm talking to you!' said Poppy. 'I got this feeling you can find him, see, like you know his girl, where she can be found. They told me she ran this place.' He pointed at the napkin. 'Jay'll understand that, he's got to.'
I nodded. 'Okay.'
He was wary. 'I can't explain it all to you. It's one hundred percent confidential.'
'I get that, yes.'
'Tell him I had to go back.'
The woman listened to the literary man's banter. He felt himself to be very drunkenly clever, I could see, but he fumbled his cigarette onto her shoes and she glided away, ready to greet others.
'I have to get back, I said.'
'Right.'
'Because of the snow.' Poppy zippered his coat, eyeing me, and seemed already hunched against the cold outside. 'If you don't tell him, it's all on you. He'll know. He'll find out.'
I didn't like the sound of this.
'And tell him I don't know how it happened.'
'Okay.' Ha, I noticed, had set a rolled white cloth on the bar. He unrolled the bundle and lifted a flap. Something gleamed from within the folded cloth.
'I still got coffee in my truck.'
