A
S
soon as I had pushed my way through the glass doors, the receptionist looked at me and smiled. “Good morning, Danny,” she said, shifting the wad of gum to a corner of her mouth. “The boss is lookin’ for you.”
“Thanks, baby.” I smiled back at her.
I went through the other door into the large office. Everybody was at work already. The quiet hum of business came to my ears. I walked through the office to my desk, in a corner of the room near a window. I sat down behind it and began looking through some papers stacked neatly in the in-coming basket on the desk.
I had been seated only a few minutes when a shadow fell across my desk. I looked up.
“Danny——” Kate started to say.
I held up an interrupting hand. “I know, baby,” I said quickly. “The boss wants to see me.”
She nodded her head.
“Well, I’m here,” I told her.
“Then what’re you waitin’ for?” she snapped sarcastically. “An engraved invitation?” She turned on her heel and huffily went back to her desk.
Kate was an all-right kid even if I liked to tease her. I guess she wasn’t the first secretary that had ever been jumped by the boss, and she wasn’t going to be the last. But she had been edgy with me ever since the first time we met.
I smiled to myself as I thought about it. It was over three and a half years ago. A lot of things had happened in that time. A war was on. A lot of guys had gone away. But when the draft board got to me they found something I never knew I had: punctured eardrums. I was out—4F, a highly personalized kind of abbreviation of the four freedoms.
I shuffled through the papers on my desk again and found the one I wanted. As I got to my feet the phone on my desk rang and I picked it up.
It was Nellie, calling from the war plant on Long Island where she worked. “I forgot to tell you to take the laundry down to the Chink’s,” she said.
“I remembered, honey,” I said. She left early in the morning—six o’clock, before I woke. “How are things going out there?” I asked.
“Hot, Danny,” she answered. “It’s over ninety in the plant.”
“Why don’t yuh quit that dump?” I asked. “We don’t need the dough now. I’m makin’ out all right.”
Her voice was patient but firm. We had been through this before. “What else have I got to do?” she asked. “Stay home all day an’ go nuts? I’m better off out of the house. At least I keep busy this way.”
I knew better than to argue with her. Since Vickie had died, she had changed. I don’t know in just what way, but she had become more silent. Some of the starlight had gone out of her eyes.
“We eatin’ out tonight or home?” I asked.
“Out, I reckon, Danny.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at the house at six.”
I grinned at Kate as I opened Sam’s door. She made a face at me and bent down over her typewriter, her fingers flying. I smiled to myself as I went in the door. I think Kate liked me despite everything.
Sam looked up from his desk. “So yuh finally got here,” he growled.
I wasn’t worried about what he said. I knew that in the few years I had been here, I had learned enough to carry my weight. This was a tricky business, but it was for me. It was made up of the kind of intangibles that only a few guys could turn into money. Guys like Sam and me. And Sam knew it too. “If it wasn’t for the air-
conditioning
I wouldn’t have come in at all,” I said, dropping into a chair in front of his desk. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”
Sam’s face flushed. He didn’t look good like that, he was packing too much weight. He had two double chins. He looked just like the Central Park South papa of three boys that he was. “Mimi says for me to ask you an’ Nellie up for dinner tonight,” he said.
“Okay,” I said. “Was that what all the fire was about?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said shortly. “I want yuh to come off that slot-machine grab.”
I stared at him. “What for?” I asked. “I thought you were hot for it.”
“I changed my mind,” he said gruffly. “The upkeep on them machines is murder. When they go, they go; that’s all there is to it. Yuh can’t get replacement parts or nothin’ on account a’ the war.”
“Is that the reason, Sam,” I asked, “or is it because I hear Maxie Fields is interested in them too?”
He flushed again. I wondered whether Sam was developing a high blood-pressure. He was at the dangerous age now. “I don’t give a damn about Maxie Fields!” he said. “It’s just I don’t like that racket. Give me a nice clean concession in a hotel or a night club. Checking, souvenirs, photographs—something with people running it. I can understand people; I can run ’em. But I can’t figger machines.”
“But I just spent a week casin’ this set-up,” I protested. “For fifteen grand it’s a steal.”
“So let Maxie steal it, then,” he snapped. “I ain’t interested. I ain’t goin’ for no kick I can’t savvy. Fifteen G’s is too much spec.”
I leaned forward. I thought Sam was missing a good thing. This was the first time I had ever really disagreed with him. “You’re missin’ the boat, Sam,” I said earnestly. “I been all through the set-up, an’ what they can do with these machines is real sky stuff. Post-war they’ll be sellin’ everything in those machines from hot coffee to condoms.”
“So let ’em,” he said definitely. I could see that his mind had been made up. “Right now all they’re good for is cigarettes and Coca-Cola and I ain’t buyin’.” He riffled through some papers on his desk. “I got somethin’ else for yuh to look at. The concessions at the Trask in Atlantic City are on the block. I want yuh to run down there an’ have a look-see.”
I stared at him for a moment. “You mean it about them
vending-machines
?” I asked.
“You heard me,” he said. “Now forget it an’——”
“I like it, Sam,” I said softly, the beginnings of an idea growing in my mind.
His gaze was sharp and penetrating. “So you like it,” he said
sarcastically
. “But it’s my dough an’ I say no dice. So be a good boy an’ stop hokkin’ me. Now, I——”
I interrupted him again. “I’d like to buy in, Sam,” I said.
He let out a deep breath. “Yuh got the dough?” he asked shrewdly.
I met his eyes across the desk. He knew as well as I that I didn’t have the dough. “Yuh know I can’t raise that kind’a money on the big seventy-five per you pay me.”
He grinned happily. He felt he was going to score. I knew the look. “But what about yer expense account on out-of-town trips? Yuh ever look at ’em? Yuh don’t think I know you grab a few bucks there?”
I grinned back at him. “You’re right about that, Sam,” I admitted. “It’s a few bucks, though. You never send me out with enough to make it a real take.”
“Then where yuh gonna get the dough?” Sam shot at me.
I thought for a minute. “I got about fifteen hundred dollars in our savings account. The bank ought to give me half the deal on a chattel mortgage. The rest I can get from you.”
Sam was on his feet. “From me?” he roared angrily. “What kinda stupe yuh think I am? What chance I got to collect from you?”
I looked at him calmly. “Yuh got my word.”
He sneered. “I sunk five grand once’t on your word. Yuh think I’d sucker for that again?”
I could feel my eyes grow cold. “That was a kid you bought, Sam. That wasn’t me; that was your grab outta a hat for glory. I never saw any of it. The only pay-off in it for me would have been a punchin’ around.”
His face was red. “Well, I ain’t buyin’,” he said flatly, sitting down behind his desk again.
My mind was made up. “But I am,” I said, “an’ you’re comin’ in after me.”
“What makes yuh think so?” he asked.
“Remember how I got my job here? Since then I been around. I never really knew how good you were until I ran into a certain little blonde dancer yuh got stashed in a hotel across town.”
I thought he’d burst a blood vessel. His face turned a heavy purplish colour. “How d’yuh know about her?” he managed to ask.
“I get around, Sam,” I smiled. “I’m a big boy now.”
He cleared his throat embarrassedly. His fingers picked up a pencil and toyed with it. “Yuh know how those things are, kid,” he said awkwardly, not looking at me. “I’m nuts about your sister, but she’s got a screwy idea that every time I come near her she’s knocked up. A guy’s gotta let off steam some place.”
“I’m not criticizing you, Sam,” I said tolerantly. “Maybe I’m even a little envious. But I don’t think Mimi could appreciate that. She’s an awful proud girl, you know.”
Sam stared at me, then relaxed in his seat. The rancour had gone from his voice. “Ain’t it enough, kid, I come through for yuh when yuh’re in trouble an’ got no place else to go? Ain’t it enough I keep
yuh out of the can, go your bail, an’ square the rap against yuh, then give yuh a job to boot. Ain’t yuh satisfied?”
I got out of the chair and leaned across his desk. I meant every word I said. “I owe you more’n I owe anybody in the world, Sam. Believe me, I’m very grateful for everything you done. I don’t like havin’ to put the boot to yuh, anymore’n you do. But there’s more’n just a job to livin’ in this world. A guy’s gotta have a buck he can call his own. Yuh never get that on a job, Sam. There’s only one way yuh can get it. That’s go after the big buck for yourself. You found that out, the first year up in the country, an’ you did all right by yourself. Now I want a crack at it. Sure, I’m satisfied, but now I want a chance at the big buck for myself.”
He looked up into my eyes for a long moment; then a smile slowly spread across his face. He knew when he was licked. But it didn’t keep him from making one more try. “Supposin’ Fields tries to cut in on yuh?”
“He won’t,” I said confidently. “I found that out while I was checkin’ around for you. It’s not big enough for him.”
He leaned back in his chair and took out his cheque-book. “Okay, Danny,” he said in a quiet voice. “How much do yuh need?”
“Six grand,” I answered.
“For how long?”
“A year post-war,” I said quickly. “I’m not takin’ any chances.”
“But the war may go on ten years!” he exploded.
I was smiling. “If it does, then you’ll be out your dough. I figger these machines’ll hold up another three years. Then I ought to be able to get new ones.”
Sam was figuring. “Usual rates, Danny?” he asked shrewdly.
Usual rates in this business were usury—generally six for five. “Take it a little easy, Sam,” I said. “After all, it’s in the family.”
“Ten per cent. per annum on an undated note,” he said quickly.
I nodded. “Fair enough, Sam.” I grinned at him. “Now yuh want me to run down to Atlantic City for yuh?”
“Hell, no!” he swore, his pen already making scratching noises in his cheque-book. “Kill your own swindle sheet. You’re in business for yourself!”
I came out of Sam’s office and sat down at my desk. I looked down at the cheque in my hand. I still couldn’t believe I had done it. The thought had never entered my mind until I had gone in there. I spread the cheque on the desk and smoothed it down. The writing on it stared up at me: six thousand dollars. I had never had that much money in my life.
A temptation came over me to take the cheque back to Sam and return it to him. Tell him I’d changed my mind and wanted my job back. I was crazy to think I could get away with a project as big as this. Sam was pretty sharp. If he couldn’t see a buck in it, maybe he was right. I had learned enough about the way he did business to realize he was generally right. Guys don’t build a business as Sam had done out of nothing but hot air. Who was I to say he was wrong?
I was suddenly tired. I closed my eyes wearily. What had got into me, anyway? Why the big ideas? I was making a living. I was content. A few years ago I would have given my eyeteeth for a spot like this. Now it wasn’t good enough. I searched my mind for the answer. It was there somewhere, it had to be. Hidden away in some secret corner just out of reach, like a very familiar word curiously lost to your tongue. There had to be a reason. I couldn’t believe it had happened just because I’d found out that Sam didn’t want it.
I went over the deal again in my mind. Maybe there was something about it that had caught me. It had all started a few weeks ago when Sam sent me out to look over this vending-machine business. Until then I had covered nothing but the concessions Sam dealt in.
The first day I had come to work for him he had called me into his office. It was the first time I had realized that he had really built himself into a big business. He waited until the door had closed behind me before he spoke. From behind his desk his eyes were cold and
challenging
. His tone of voice was one I had never heard him use before, it was clipped and businesslike. “If you think you’re gettin’ a free ride here, Danny, you can get off now.”
I didn’t answer.
“If you think you got the job because you put something over on me, forget it,” he continued in the same tone. “I’m payin’ yuh thirty bucks a week because I expect you to work thirty bucks’ worth.” He stared at me for a moment as if he expected me to answer him. When I didn’t he went on:
“You’re not gettin’ any favours because you’re Mimi’s brother either, so you can forget that too. You’ll do your work or get out. I don’t care what you think you got on me if you don’t do your job; I’ll tie a can to yuh before yuh know what’s happenin’!” He glared up at me. “Unnerstan’?”
I almost smiled at the familiar word. It was always a favourite of his. “I coppish,” I answered. “That’s the way I want it. I’m tired of favours and hand-outs.”
He nodded his head heavily. “Good,” he said. “Then we unnerstan’ each other. Now get outside an’ go to work.”
He got busy at his desk and I was dismissed. As I went outside, his secretary’s face flushed. I smiled at her and went back to my desk, which was at the front of the room then, with the other receipt clerks. My job was to record the business reported by each of the concessions and keep a perpetual check on their inventory.
I didn’t see very much of Sam after that. He treated me exactly like the other employees, no better and no worse. I was in that job over a year when the first peacetime draft grabbed one of the checkers. I was promoted to his job. It paid forty-five a week and carried a car along with it. It was my job to visit the concessions and see how things were going, to see whether the company was getting a fair shake. A certain amount of hold-out couldn’t be avoided in a business as vague and nebulous as this, but we tried to keep it at a fair minimum.