Taste of Tenderloin Read Online Free PDF

the discriminating gentleman” became as lauded in
advertising promotional circles as “Where’s the beef?” West
Kingston Herbals, Ltd. became the largest employer in Trenchtown
and soon in all of Kingston, eventually negotiating to have Raz L
Daz L produced in two additional plants in Oakland and London to
meet the escalating world demand. A TV ad, conceived and directed
by Luke, appeared with Daz L standing between two gorgeous,
skimpily dressed models, grinning and declaring in his thick
Jamaican voice, “Hey, mon, Raz L Daz L da ladies.”
    Soon after beginning the
initial promotion for Raz L Daz L, Luke was putting in
fourteen-hour days, often attending meetings in several different
time zones and countries in the same day. In addition to the
cologne, he promoted half a dozen other products, even a Saturday
morning TV cartoon with the voice of Daz L. At the end of nine
months, the singer’s account at Double B & A was making money
faster than the old U.S. Mint down on Fifth Street printing a new
run of dollar bills.
    As the too-short days flew
by and demands on his time increased, so did Luke’s gauntness and
the deep bags under his eyes. He’d even developed a permanent
slight tremor in his hands. His appearance caused his friend Hubie
Jensen to press him about his health.
    “ Hubie, everything is fine.
Busy and hectic, but just fine. Okay?”
    “ And Lauren?”
    “ Well, that isn’t working
out; Lauren’s still coping with her substance abuse problem, you
know?” That was a damn lie. Lauren was doing well in her recovery.
He told himself that she left him because she just had too much
competition. He had succumbed to his own hype and was using Raz L
Daz L. The TV ad implication was indeed prophetic: the ladies loved
it. But deep down he knew that his womanizing wasn’t the reason
Lauren had moved out. She’d gone soon after he’d brought up the
subject of breast enhancement. In a teary voice she had insisted
that he cared deeply about only two things: his job and
coke.
     
    On St. Patrick’s Day of
2005 , Luke got an unexpected phone call.
The message chilled him to his core. “Tomorrow you will come to the
alley—”
    Luke slammed the phone
down.
    Jesus . With the whirlwind craziness, he’d completely forgotten the
spooky old bitch. He was due back in the Tenderloin the next night,
back at that scary dark alley with its magical blank box and…what?
He didn’t know. It didn’t matter because he wasn’t going. No way.
He ignored the phone’s ring several times throughout the
night.
     
    The next morning, Luke
called in to his assistant at Double B
& A, planning to take off sick, stay at home all day and night,
out of harm’s way.
    “ Glad you called, Luke,”
Jamie said. “Got this nutty phone call early this morning on your
unlisted private line. Sounded like an old lady, someone with a
husky voice, anyhow. Left a cryptic message.”
    “ What’d she say?” he
whispered hoarsely.
    “ Well, it doesn’t make any
sense to me,” Jamie replied. “But she said that either you write in
the box or she’d be erasing words. Weird, huh?”
    He didn’t say anything for
a few moments, just stood there with the phone to his ear. His hand
wouldn’t stop trembling.
    “ You still there,
Luke?”
    He cleared his throat.
“Yeah, Jamie. Thanks. Don’t worry about the call. Probably just
some kook, you know?”
    “ Right.”
    No matter what, the old
lady’s deal had really worked for him. The words had indeed been
magical. He didn’t want her, whoever she was, doing anything that
would upset the momentum. No, he’d be there at 11:35 like he’d
agreed, write whatever she wanted him to in that fucking
box.
     
    The fog was exceptionally
thick , making the denizens of the
Tenderloin appear out of the mist on O’Farrell like apparitions.
Even with the collar of his blue herringbone sport coat pulled up
against the cold, Luke shivered as he quickly bypassed the ghostly
figures and approached the