Benny Muscles In

Chapter One

The car leaned hard into the curve and before it had a chance to right itself came to a rocking stop.

Benny Tapkow sat back in his seat “I’m not telling you again,” he said. He had a quiet voice. “Next time like that and you’re through.”

“You said to make time,” the driver said. “All I was trying-”

“Try to shut up. I said drive fast. I didn’t say stop fast.”

The driver didn’t give an answer because he wasn’t expected to have one.

Benny swung the car door open and jumped to the sidewalk. With a careful movement he gave his hat a small adjustment, feeling along the high crown and the wide brim. It was a big hat and he wore it square over his ears and forehead, as if wearing it were a feat of balance.

Then he walked down the street When Benny Tapkow moved, it was like a tight spring moving, as if there were a lot of power that had to be used up.

He walked past a couple of stores and turned into a place that said, “While U Wait.” He walked past the shoeshine boy, the man who blocked hats behind the counter, and then around the steam press in the back. Nobody said anything. They listened to the sharp click of his heels and watched him disappear through the door in the back.

It was a crumby office. The roll-top desk was stuffed with junk and there were blocking forms and bottles of cleaning fluid all over the floor.

“Hi, Louie.” Benny let the door slam shut and stopped by the desk. “You got it?”

“Sure.” Louie gave himself a tired push and got up. He was flabby and short. Benny could look him straight in the face without looking up. He couldn’t do that with many people.

“This way,” Louie said. He led the way through another door and into a room with a safe, two tables, and a dozen telephones. “You’re kinda early.” Louie wheezed and let himself down on one knee in front of the safe. “Paddy never used to get here till late.” Louie dialed the combination.

“Paddy isn’t running this territory any more.” Benny sat down on one of the tables. He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke.

“I know,” Louie said. “I was just saying. Paddy always-”

“Come on, come on. Forget about Paddy and get the dough.”

Louie got the safe open and brought a cashbox to the table. “Kind of in a hurry, huh?”

“Open the box and let’s have the receipt book.”

“Here. Wanna count the cash?”

“You’re damn right I’m going to count the cash.”

Benny opened the small ledger and looked at the week’s entries. Then he got off the table, put his hands in his pockets, and walked up close to Louie. “It says five-ten from numbers and eight hundred from protection.”

Louie took a small step backward, looking confused. “Sure, about the same as always.”

“What did I tell you last week, Louie?”

“You mean about raising the take?”

“About raising the take.”

Louie frowned and ran a hand through his thin hair. His scalp showed white between the black strands. “Christ, Benny, I thought you were kiddin’. How am I gonna double the take? All the time Paddy was here-”

“Forget Paddy! I got the territory now and I set the quota. Why do you think I got the job? Why do you think I run myself ragged doing flunky errands and doing my own collecting? To get you guys on the ball!”

“But, Benny-”

“Shut up. I want a thousand from the numbers and sixteen hundred from the rest.” Louie stepped back.

“I’m waiting, Louie.” Benny’s voice was short and matter-of-fact.

“Look, Benny, let’s be serious. How can I double-”

“Get your runners on the ball. If that doesn’t do it take it out of your percentage. I told you last week and that’s all the telling I’m going to do. Now pay up.”

Louie threw his hands up and rubbed them over his face with an angry gesture. “For chrissakes! You out your mind or something? You think you can walk in here and give me a crazy quota just like that and think everybody’s gonna jump? You think you can-”

“You’re damn right I can.”

Louie gave a little gasp, as if he wasn’t sure he had heard right Then he changed his tack. “Does Pendleton know about this?”

“You’re dealing with me, not Pendleton.”

“I’m asking a question,” Louie screeched. “I wanna know if the boss knows about this deal you’re pulling with me!”

Benny’s hand came out fast and hooked into the shirt under Louie’s neck. “Whom are you calling a crook, you bastard?”

Louie’s face was getting mottled. “You crazy runt,” he said.

Benny pulled the man close with a sudden jerk. “Whom are you calling a runt?” he said, and suddenly there was his other hand. It whipped across Louie’s swollen face, the hard knuckles making a sound like stone where they hit Then he let go of the shirt and Louie stumbled to the floor.

Benny paid no attention. He had turned back to the table and was counting the money in the cashbox. Once he nodded to the man on the floor and told him to get up. “The rest of the cash,” he said. “I’m in a hurry.” Then he finished counting.

When he was through he lit another cigarette and watched Louie rummage in the safe. “Count it out on the table,” he said, and he watched how Louie’s hands were shaking. “Add it in the book.” He put the money into the box, signed the receipt book, and handed it to Louie. “See you next week.” Benny left with the box under his arm.

That night he carried a leather satchel through a door marked “Imports, Inc., Alfred B. Kent, Pres.” and threw the case on a desk where a thin guy in a pin-stripe suit was tapping an adding machine. Then he sat down by the water cooler and waited. Twenty minutes later the thin guy looked up and said, “Hey, Benny.”

“Yeah?”

“Listen, kid, I went through this twice. Everything comes out double.”

“That’s right. Gimme my receipt.”

The guy looked puzzled. He checked his tape again and turned to Benny. “Listen, kid. It’s double.”

Benny got up and went to the desk. “It’s double because I collected double. I’m reorganizing the territory.”

“You-you what?”

Benny didn’t answer. He stuck his hand out and waved it impatiently. “Come on, come on. Let’s have that receipt.”

“Now, wait.” The guy looked at the tape again. “Now, wait just a second. You mean this is from Paddy’s old district?”

“Not Paddy’s. Mine. I’m collecting double. You hard of hearing, Jack?”

“Hell, no. When did this come off? Pendleton never said a word about it. He was here around noon, just for a minute or so, but he never-”

“Pendleton doesn’t know yet. This is the first collection under the new rule.”

“New rule? Who’s making this new rule and I don’t know a thing about it?”

“I’m making the rule. Pendleton gave me the territory and I’m making the rule. So let’s have the receipt, huh, Jack?”

Jack leaned back in his swivel chair and looked up at Benny without saying a word. Then he swung forward, picked up the phone, and dialed. “Just wait a sec, will ya? Before I can-Hello? This is Imports. That you, Turk? Listen, lemme talk to Pendleton… Yeah, it’s kinda important. Lemme talk-Well, you know Paddy’s old territory; what was Paddy’s. This kid Tapkow has it and he just checks in with the receipts all double… How the hell do I know? He just made a new rule, he says… Yeah, I’ll hang on.” Jack looked up from the phone and nodded toward a chair by the desk. “Just park it for a sec, will ya, kid? Turk is talking to the boss.”

Benny bit his lip and waited. He wasn’t impatient any more, just nervous. This thing was out of his hands now.

At times like this he didn’t feel right. He needed his hands in things, and he rarely did anything that wasn’t big; big as far as he was concerned. All that concerned him was Benny Tapkow going to the top, no matter what.

He stood by the desk, a nervous tingling in his hands. They were narrow and slim. They didn’t show half their strength. Except for the tendons on the back, like wires.

“Fine,” Jack was saying. “Fine. So long, Turk.”

Jack put the receiver down and started to scribble on a pad. He tore the leaf off and gave it to Benny. “Here’s your receipt, kid. Boss says to give you the receipt.”

Benny took the paper and turned to go. He felt all right again. Why should Pendleton kick? He knew a good man when he saw him, and Benny had made sure that Pendleton noticed. He’d been making sure for years.

“One sec, kid.”

“You can stop calling me kid.”

“Pendleton wants to see you.”

Benny turned. “Pendleton?”

“Himself. Tonight.”

“Did he say-”

“All he said was tonight, kid.”

Benny used to see a lot of Pendleton, but that didn’t mean a thing. The job called for it. It was Mr. Pendleton then and it was Mr. Pendleton now.

He had an apartment on Sutton Place, where he spent most of his time. Benny sat in a gold-and-black anteroom waiting for the butler to come back and show him where to go. Through the archway with the columns he could see another room, a large one with a view. There was more black and gold.

“Mr. Pendleton is ready,” said the butler, and then Benny was in the dark library where Pendleton sat behind a desk.

It had been a while but Pendleton hadn’t changed. His bony face looked white and his mouth was a thin straight line. The close-set eyes were like flint.

“A little closer, Tapkow,” Pendleton said. He moved one narrow shoulder under his suit. He often did that. He did it in a quick, precise movement that was hard to catch.

Benny stood by the desk and waited.

“Did you get your receipt?” The voice was noncommittal. It was always noncommittal.

“Yes, sir. Right here.”

Pendleton looked at it, moving only his eyes.

“Why is it more than usual?”

“I collected it that way.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Well, you see, Mr. Pendleton, when you gave me the territory I made a study of the place. I studied the way Paddy used to run it and how everything went Then I figured the territory could make more.”

“You figured?”

“Yes, sir. I figured it out.”

“Why?”

Benny hesitated for a moment because he didn’t understand. “To improve it,” he said finally. “I figured-”

“Tapkow,” said the voice, “I didn’t tell you to improve it.”

“You didn’t have to, Mr. Pendleton. I could tell-”

“How long have you been with us, Tapkow?”

“Seven years. You see, when I took over-”

“You took over?”

In the silence that followed, Pendleton never moved. Benny could see the space between Pendleton’s back and the chair and there was no movement one way or the other.

“What was your first job, Tapkow? Seven years ago?”

“Uh-messenger. Sort of a messenger.”

“And then?”

“Chauffeur.”

“And when you were my chauffeur you quickly adopted a number of additional duties. After that I sent you to Imports, and you were barely able to contain yourself there. Correct?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“And now you have Paddy’s job, correct?”

“Sure.”

Pendleton got up from his chair and looked down at Benny. “What, Tapkow, do you consider the real difference between being a chauffeur and running a territory?… Well, answer me!”

“There’s a hell of a difference. Look Mr. Pendleton, let me tell you what that district-”

“Let me tell you, Tapkow.” The voice was like a knife. “There is no difference, Tapkow. There is absolutely no difference, because I tell you where to go in both cases. I tell you what to do.”

“Now, listen, Mr. Pendleton, just wait a minute.”

There suddenly were two sharp lines running from the sides of Pendleton’s nose to the corners of his thin mouth. “Tapkow,” said the mouth, “you are shouting.”

Benny got confused. Had that old bastard forgotten that he wasn’t the chauffeur any more? Did Pendleton think he was talking to just another punk who ran errands? Or worse, this was the sack! The bastard was playing games and was going to give him the sack.

“And if the matter is quite clear to you, Tapkow, I give you this one opportunity to learn what I thought you knew. As of tonight you have your job back. Turk will show you the chauffeur’s uniform.”

“But-listen, the collections-”

“Tapkow. The jobs are the same. Or do you prefer none?”

This was it; or almost. He needed time to set things straight. Seven years of work…

“Yes-no, sir, Mr. Pendleton.”

Pendleton did the thing with his shoulder again and sat down behind his desk. “Turk will show you the uniform. I need you at nine,” and Benny Tapkow was dismissed.