Paradise Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

parlors. Italian bumpers looked everywhere for the Bandidos. But the Bandidos dressed in women’s clothes like their god Changó, and the bumpers could never find them. That’s when Infante was brought in, an Italian lawyer who pleaded La Familia’s case. The Italians sold half their betting parlors to the Cubans. And La Familia became one of Infante’s clients. He sat around with the Cuban chiefs, lawyers like himself, drank bitter coffee and discussed politics.
    Infante had his own office at Aladdin Furs. It belonged to the Swisser before the Swisser moved to France. Infante had started out as a prosecutor in the Queens district attorney’s office. Now he controlled every piece of sable that moved into the fur market. He was the most feared lawyer in town. Once, only once, the cops had put handcuffs on Holden. Infante was there when Holden arrived at the central booking station. The cops removed the handcuffs, and half the sergeants in the house apologized to Holden.
    Infante was forty-five. His wife Florinda ate at Mansions restaurant with a lot of kings. Infante would ask Holden to be her bodyguard from time to time. Holden had become a big hit. He was a bumper with better clothes than any billionaire.
    Holden knocked on Infante’s door and went in. The lawyer sat behind his desk, counting furriers’ markers and notes. He tied them with a rubber band and stood up to paw Holden. He had an elegant stink of toilet water. Holden used nothing but slightly scented soap.
    “Holden, Holden,” the lawyer said. “I’m proud ... you sneak Fay back into Manhattan in a man’s shirt and pants. Who else would have thought of that?”
    “I had to, Robert. Red Mike destroyed her clothes.”
    “Then Mike deserves a bit of credit, eh? Credit he’ll never claim.”
    “He was my friend. I can’t celebrate his not being here.”
    “I know,” Infante said. “I was fond of the big bastard myself. But he went too far. He wants to machine-gun a house, okay. Bump a couple of competitors, fine. But steal Abruzzi’s daughter-in-law?”
    “He never really harmed the girl. He burnt her underwear, so she couldn’t run away.”
    “That’s sick,” Infante said. “But why are we arguing? Abruzzi sends his regards. He’s awful fond of Fay. You met her husband a couple of times. Rex, a tall guy who likes to scribble. I got you tickets for one of his plays, The Purple Farm.”
    Holden remembered now. He’d gone to that play with Nick Tiel. It was three hours of talk. There were no purple farms. The play was about a sea captain and the voyages he took, the women and children he acquired, all the different crusts a man can wear. Holden had never been to sea. And he couldn’t sympathize with this sea captain. Nick Tiel had his fun in the dark, watching fur coats. Nick could tell the quality of any mink draped over a chair. Holden had nothing but the sea captain ... and Rex, a giant who sat through the performance holding his jaw.
    “Robert, I didn’t care so much for Rex’s play.”
    “That’s because you’re a snob, like your London tailor. It bothers me, Holden. No matter how rich I am, I’ll never dress as well as you.”
    “Hire Goldie.”
    “It’s not that simple,” Infante said. “You’re practically his kid. He’s devoted to you.”
    “Make him an offer.”
    “I already did. I offered him ten thousand a year not to dress you, and he laughed in my face.”
    “Well, you’re industrious, Robert. You have a lot of bumpers in your back yard. You could convince one little tailor.”
    “Fat chance,” Infante said, “when the tailor has you on his side.”
    “I’m just your servant,” Holden said.
    The lawyer started to laugh. He was vain about his narrow, birdlike body and wore the tightest clothes he could find. But his vest rippled with short explosions of laughter and broke his trim, matador’s line. Infante realized this and stopped laughing.
    “I’d like to meet a servant that draws your kind of