Man and Boy

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‘Give her a break, Marty,’ I said.

‘Yeah.’ She looked at me for the first time. ‘Give me a break, Marty.’

‘I’ll have the twirly sort of pasta with the red stuff on top and he’ll have the same,’ Marty said.

‘Twirly pasta.’ She wrote it down on her little pad. ‘Red stuff. Got it.’

‘And bring us a bottle of champagne,’ Marty said, patting the waitress on her bum. ‘There’s a good girl.’

‘Get your sweaty hand off my butt before I break your arm,’ she said. ‘There’s a good boy.’

‘Just bring us a drink, will you?’ Marty said, quickly removing his hand.

The waitress left us.

‘Christ, we should have ordered a takeaway,’ Marty said. ‘Or got here a bit earlier.’

‘Sorry about the delay,’ I said. ‘The traffic –’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said, raising a hand.

‘I’m glad you agreed to the fifteen-minute delay system,’ I told him. ‘I promise you that it’s not going to harm the show.’

‘Well, that’s just one of the changes we’re making,’ Marty said. ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to you.’

I waited, at last registering that Marty was nervous. He had a set of breathing exercises which were meant to disguise him having the shakes, but they weren’t working now. And we weren’t celebrating after all.

‘I also want Siobhan more involved with the booking of guests,’ Marty said. ‘And I want her up in the gallery every week. And I want her to keep the station off my back.’

I let it sink in for a moment. The waitress brought our champagne. She poured two glasses. Marty took a long slug and stared at his glass, his lips parting as he released an inaudible little belch. ‘Pardon me,’ he said.

I let my glass stand on the table.

‘But all those things – that’s the producer’s job.’ I tried on a smile. ‘That’s my job.’

‘Well, those are the changes I want to make.’

‘Wait a minute. I’m not getting a new contract?’