Last God Standing Read Online Free PDF Page A

earlier at a comedy club on the North Side. He was there representing a client, a terrible Indian comic with a wooden leg. He’d watched my set and declared himself a fan. He represented me for three months before being offered a job as an assistant to a television development executive. We’d remained friends and occasional collaborators ever since.
    “Can we go please? I can’t be late because of you. Again.”
    I grabbed my satchel and headed toward the front door.
    “Wait one. Goddamn. Minute.”
    My mother stepped out of the kitchen. Barbara Cooper was tall, light brown; the “high yellow” to my father’s “milk chocolate”. She was wearing an ultratight, leopard print microdress that might have contained her in the Eighties but had long since given up the fight. She was the kind of “thin” that never translated into “fit”, her breasts as dangly as the udders on an undermilked heifer. For some reason, she’d chosen that morning to show off the network of fine scars from her latest unsuccessful varicose vein removal surgery. She was wearing her favorite pink “chacha heels”, the ones she only broke out when she was trying to seduce one of my friends. She took a drag off her Virgina Slim and French inhaled.
    “Aren’t you boys going to compliment a lady on her appearance?”
    “Barbara,” I said. “Why are you dressed that way?”
    “I’m on a voyage of self discovery.”
    “You hoping to discover the Island of Sad Old Hookers?”
    Barbara blew a perfect menthol smoke ring across the living room. “I’m trying to ‘discover’ why you haven’t introduced me to your handsome friend.”
    “It’s Yuri, Barbara. You’ve only met him a hundred times.”
    “Sarcasm makes you look ignorant, dear.”
    “Herb quit smoking, you know. He’s healthier than you are. Doesn’t that fill you with rage?”
    Barbara laughed while her eyes checked out Yuri’s package.
    “Some of your darker skinned blacks look ridiculous with cigarettes dangling between their big, Ubangi soup coolers, Lando. You know that. Mama can pull it off because I’m one of the sexy people. Right, Yuri?”
    Barbara batted her eyes and shook her “junk” in a way that made it nearly impossible to look at her without screaming.
    “Yuri… what is that? Polish?”
    “No, ma’am. It’s Russian.”
    “You mean my boring son is hanging out with a communist? How’s that for a poke in the shitbox?”
    “Mother! You’re ‘thinking out loud’ again.”
    Barbara shrugged this away. “I’m sorry, Yuri. I’m sure Lando has told you about my condition.”
    “Yes, ma’am. It’s not a problem, Barb.”
    Barbara giggled. The vodka gust scorched the air between her mouth and my nostrils.
    “He’s a winner, Lando. And so handsome...”
    Yuri offered up his most rakish smile. “Coming from a looker like you, I’ll take that as high praise, Barbara.”
    “…for a big dumb Polack.”
    “Barbara!”
    “You gentlemen still haven’t commented on my appearance.”
    “That’s because you look ridiculous.”
    Barbara dropped her cigarette and ground it out on the carpet. Then loosened her straps and winked at me.
    “Good.”
     
    “Look out!”
    Yuri wrenched the wheel sharply to the left, swerving into the far lane to avoid the elderly man who had just stepped out of his ancient white Cadillac. We’d never even come close to hitting him, but we nearly rear-ended the biker on the Harley stopped at the red light in front of us. We screeched to a halt inches from the Harley’s rear wheel. Yuri overreacted. Of course.
    “Will you stop doing that?”
    “I wasn’t sure you saw him.”
    We were log-jammed in downtown rushhour traffic. In the sweltering heat inside his beloved second generation electric car, Yuri started doing his deep breathing exercises.
    “Barbara’s been acting very strange lately.”
    “‘Strange’ for your family or ‘strange’ for normal people?”
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    “Sorry.