12 THE SPURNED LOVER, NEW YORKGareg walked into the busy down-town New York restaurant that he had been told to go to and went up to reception.
“Hello, my name is Morgan, and I am here to meet a client, a Mr. Tom Jones. Say, I wonder if it’s the famous one!”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Jones is already at his table. Please follow me, sir.”
Gareg did so as the Maître d’Hotel led the way.
He saw a nervous-looking, short, fat, sweaty man of about fifty years of age, who seemed surprised when Gareg was introduced to him.
“Mr. Jones, Mr. Morgan.”
“Oh! Hello, please take a seat. Thank you, George,” he said, standing up and offering his hand.
The Maître d’Hotel left with $10 in his top pocket.
They shook hands and both sat down again.
“My, I am not sure if you are what I expected or not. You are a bi
