Big Easy Bonanza

looking for shade, a handout, or a little hope, drifted through the heat outside. Now and then traveling teenagers carrying backpacks passed – Europeans, maybe, but so many kids had started wearing black you couldn’t really tell. The diners, cool and tranquil, watched the passersby like fish, observing the world from inside the glass of an aquarium. Every ten minutes or so a streetcar rumbled by.
    The old hotel upstairs had struggled for years. It had been kept alive by Governor Edwards and his legion of lawyers who occupied an entire one of its floors for months while the Governor was on trial for bribery. His acquittal had suddenly left the place empty, but a bankruptcy or two later, it was making a celebrated comeback. Now aproned waiters scattered warm pistolettes of French bread and rosettes of iced butter before an appreciative flock of feasting gastronomes with heavy-metal credit cards.
    Tubby ordered a duo of softshell crabs. Dr. Feingold had the trout. The crabs came with a creamy herb sauce on the side, which Tubby dolloped lavishly on his plate with only a twinge of guilt. I’m not in such bad shape after forty-five years and roughly half as many Mardi Gras, he told himself. A small paunch, maybe, but I can still go out on a public beach. He still had most of his thick blond hair, and he was vain enough to think that the way it turned golden in the summer sunshine complimented his skin. By nature, Tubby took a charitable view of both himself and others. He had a sportsman’s face, blue eyes spaced far apart in a guileless countenance that could not conceal a blush. Suit jackets strained against his broad shoulders and barrel chest, and often people’s first impression of him was correct—he was their college football lineman, domesticated and brought into harness. His nails were even and clean, as a lawyer’s should be, though his knuckles showed surprising scars. Tubby had not worn jewelry on his hands since he took off his wedding ring.
    “How was your trip?” he asked.
    “Wonderful,” Dr. Feingold said enthusiastically. “Costa Rica is such a beautiful country. We stayed in a fantastic hotel, and nearby there was a crystal clear lagoon, a perfect blue, with superb snorkeling. It was lovely. Have you ever snorkeled, Tubby?”
    “Sure, when I was a kid. But I didn’t even know grown-ups did it for fun until you started going on about it.”
    “It’s a great sport. You see things you never imagined.”
    “Actually, Marty, I get enough of that in my law practice. What I see walking around on the streets amazes me on a daily basis. But I know what you mean.”
    “You ought to give it a try. Live a little. You would enjoy the peace and quiet.”
    “I’m sure I would. Too bad you have to submerge yourself in the ocean to get some.”
    “Let’s talk about my case,” Dr. Feingold said, slipping an ivory bit of fish on his fork. “I really feel bad about Sandy, but don’t you think his demands are just a wee bit outrageous?”
    “It does look like you botched the operation up, Marty. In all honesty, I feel funny representing him.”
    “You shouldn’t. I’m much more comfortable with you doing it than one of those ambulance-chasers out there. I trust you to treat me fairly.”
    “It just seems strange to me that when a guy thinks you’ve destroyed his epidermis he’d still take your recommendation for a lawyer.”
    Sandy Shandell was an exotic. The first time he had come into Tubby’s office, Cherrylynn, Tubby’s secretary, had shown him to a chair and then breathlessly rushed in to tell her boss, shutting the door behind her so that Sandy wouldn’t hear, “Mr. Dubonnet. There is a man outside to see you, and he’s wearing makeup.”
    “He’s an entertainer. They all wear stuff on their faces.”
    “I’d sure like to see the entertainment he puts on. He’s wearing the same eye shadow as me,” she giggled, and blushed.
    “Calm down, Cherrylynn. Just show him in.”
    She did, but as she stood behind Sandy, a tall sinewy man who did indeed paint his face, she made hand signals and, eyes big as pies, silently mouthed, “Do you see?”
    “Hold my calls,” Tubby said and closed the door on her.
    The next time Sandy came for an office visit he presented Cherrylynn with a tiny cloisonné pin.
    “I just thought it would match your hair,” he said, and she was completely won over. After that when he called or came by the office, he and Cherrylynn would chat like sisters