A Very Rare Disease
August, 1958
Spiro got to the restaurant first, and sat silently on a plump semicircle of leather cushions, sipping a cold, dry martini and listening to the lunch talk. Big talk, little talk, deal, deal, deal; it was just like the talk he'd heard in every restaurant in every city where the selling business had taken him and his black suitcase. But today, the talk jarred. Today, Spiro had big worries.O'Connor showed up at 12:30. He said: "Welcome home, Joe. You knock 'em dead in Chicago?"Spiro edged...
