What's Better Than Money (3 page)

“There’s a guy I know,” I said to Rima, “who might do something for you. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. He runs a night club on 10th Street. It’s not much, but it could be a start.”

“Well, thanks. . .”

Her voice sounded so flat I looked sharply at her.

“Don’t you want to sing professionally?”

“I’d do anything to make some money.”

“Well, I’ll talk to him.”

I kicked off my shoes, giving her the hint to go back to her room, but she still stood there watching me with her big cobalt blue eyes.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” I said. “See you tomorrow sometime. I’ll talk to this guy.”

“Thanks.” She still stood there. “Thanks a lot.” Then after a pause, she said, “I hate to ask you. Could you lend me five dollars? I’m flat broke.”

I took off my coat and tossed it on a chair.

“So am I,” I said. “I’ve been flat broke for the past six months. Don’t worry your head about it. You’ll get used to it.”

“I haven’t had anything to eat all day.”

I began to undo my tie.

“Sorry. I’m broke too. I haven’t anything to spare. Go to bed. You’ll forget to be hungry when you are asleep.”

She suddenly arched her chest at me. Her face was completely expressionless as she said, “I must have some money. I’ll spend the night with you if you will lend me five bucks. I’ll pay you back.”

I hung up my coat in the closet. With my back turned to her I said, “Beat it. I told you: I don’t have attachments. Get out of here, will you?”

I heard my bedroom door shut and I grimaced. Then I turned the key. After I had washed in the tin bowl on the dressing-table and changed the plaster on my face I got into bed.

I wondered about her, and this was the first time for months that I had even thought about a woman. I wondered why she hadn’t got going as a singer before now. With a voice like hers, her looks and her apparent willingness, it was hard to imagine why she hadn’t become a success.

I thought about her voice. Maybe this guy I knew who ran the Blue Rose night club and whose name was Willy Floyd might be interested.

There was a time when Willy had been interested in me. He had wanted me to play the piano in a three piece combination, working from eight to three o’clock in the morning. I couldn’t bring myself to work with the other guys, and that was why I had thrown in with Rusty. Willy had offered me twice as much money as Rusty paid me, but the thought of having to play with the other guys choked me off.

Every now and then I got a violent itch to make more money, but the effort to get it discouraged me. I would have liked to have moved out of this room which was pretty lousy. I would have liked to have bought a second-hand car so I could go off on my own when I felt like it.

I wondered now, as I lay in the darkness, if I couldn’t pick up some easy money by acting as this girl’s agent. With a voice like hers, properly handled, she might eventually make big money. She might even make a fortune if she could break into the disc racket. A steady ten per cent of whatever she made might give me the extra things I wanted to have.

I heard the sudden sound of sneezing coming from her room. I remembered how soaked she had been the other night when she had come into Rusty’s bar. It would be her luck and mine too if she had caught cold and couldn’t sing.

She was still sneezing when I fell asleep.

The next morning, a little after eleven o’clock, when I came out of my room, she was right there in her doorway, waiting for me.

“Hello,” I said. “I heard you sneezing last night. Have you caught cold?”

“No.”

In the hard light of the sun coming through the passage window, she looked terrible. Her dark ringed eyes were watery, her nose was red and her face was white and pinched looking.

“I’m going to talk to Willy Floyd right now,” I said. “Maybe you’d better rest up. You look like something the cat’s dragged in. Willy won’t be interested if he sees you like this.”

“I’m all right.” She passed a limp hand across her face. “Could you spare me half a dollar for some coffee?”

“For the love of Mike! Cut it out, will you? I told you: I have nothing to spare.”

Her face began to sag. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“But I’ve had nothing to eat for two days! I don’t know what I’m going to do! Can’t you spare me something. . . anything. . .?”

“I’m broke like you!” I yelled at her, losing my temper. “I’m trying to get you a job! I can’t do more than that, can I?”

“I’m starving!” She leaned weakly against the wall and began to wring her hands. “Please lend me something. . .”

“For Pete’s sake! All right! I’ll lend you half a buck, but you’ve got to pay me back!”

It had suddenly occurred to me that if she was to make any kind of impression on Willy, if she was to get a job with him, and if I were going to pick up ten per cent cut, I’d have to see she didn’t starve.

I went back into my room, unlocked my dressing-table drawer and found half a dollar. In this drawer I kept my week’s wages I had just received from Rusty; thirty dollars. I kept my back turned so she couldn’t see what was in the drawer, and I was careful to close and lock the drawer before giving her the half dollar.

She took it and I saw her hand was shaking.

“Thanks. I’ll pay it back. Honest I will.”

“You’d better pay it back,” I said. “I’ve just enough to live on, and I don’t reckon to finance anyone and that includes you.”

I moved out of the room, shut the door and locked it and put the key in my pocket.

“I’ll be right in my room if you want me,” she said. “I’ll just go down to the café across the way for a cup of coffee, then I’ll be back.”

“Try to brighten yourself up, will you? If Willy wants to see you tonight, he’s got to see you looking a lot better than you are now. Sure you can sing?”

She nodded.

“I can sing all right.”

“Be seeing you,” I said and went down the stairs and out into the sunshine.

I found Willy in his office with a pile of twenty dollar bills in front of him. He was counting them: every now and then he would lick a dirty finger to get a better purchase.

He nodded to me, then went on counting while I propped up the wall and waited.

His office wasn’t much, but neither was the night club.

Willy was always a loud dresser. His pale blue flannel suit and his hand painted tie with the phony diamond stick pin set my teeth on edge.

He put the money in his desk drawer, then leaned back and looked at me inquiringly.

“What’s biting you, Jeff?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve found a girl who can sing,” I said. “You’ll rave about her, Willy. She’s just what you’ve been looking for.”

His round pasty face showed boredom. He was fat, short and going bald. He had a small mouth, small eyes and a small mind.

“I’m not looking for any dames who can sing. If I wanted them they are a dime a dozen, but I don’t want them. When are you going to play the piano for me? It’s time you got wise to yourself, Jeff. You’re wasting your life.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m all right where I am. You’ve got to hear this girl, Willy. You could get her pretty cheap and she would be a sensation. She’s got looks and she’s got a voice that will stand your lousy customers right on their ears.”

He took a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end and spat it across the room.

“I didn’t think you went for women.”

“I don’t. This is strictly business. I’m acting as her agent. Let me bring her around tonight. It won’t cost you a dime. I want you to hear her, then we can talk business.”

He shrugged his fat shoulders.

“Well, okay. I’m not promising anything, but if she’s as good as you say she is I might possibly find something for her.”

“She’s better than I say.”

He lit his cigar and blew smoke at me.

“Look, Jeff, why don’t you get smart? When are you going to throw up this way of living? A guy with your education should be doing something better. . .”

“Skip it,” I said impatiently. “I’m happy as I am. See you tonight,” and I walked out.

I was pretty sure once Willy had heard her, he would give her a job. Maybe I could get him to pay her seventy-five a week. That would be seven and a half dollars extra in my pocket. I was also pretty sure that after she had been singing at Willy’s joint for a couple of weeks, people would begin to talk about her, then I could ease her into one of the plush niteries where the pay-off would mean something.

I got quite worked up about this idea. I began to imagine myself as a big-shot agent with a swank office, and in time, interviewing and fixing up the big stars.

I went straight back to my rooming-house. Now was the time to tell Rima I was going to be her agent. I wouldn’t introduce her to Willy until I had her under contract. I wasn’t going to be mug enough to introduce her to Willy, and then for some other guy to grab her.

I went up the three flights of stairs two at a time and walked into her room

Carrie, the maid of all work, was stripping the bed. There was no sign of Rima.

Carrie stared at me. She was a big, fat woman who had a drunken, out-of-work husband.

She and I got along fine together. When she did my room, we talked over our troubles. She had many more than I, but she always managed to keep cheerful and she was always urging me to throw up the life I was living and go home.

“Where’s Miss Marshall?” I said, pausing in the doorway.

“She checked out half an hour ago.”

“Checked out? You mean she’s left?”

“Why, yes. She’s gone.”

I felt horribly deflated.

“Didn’t she leave a message for me? Didn’t she say where she was going?”

“No, and she didn’t leave anything for you.”

“Did she pay for her room, Carrie?”

Carrie grinned, showing her big yellow teeth. The idea of anyone walking out of Mrs. Millard’s establishment without paying amused her.

“She paid.”

“How much?”

“Two bucks.”

I drew in a long, slow breath. It looked as if I had been taken for a ride for half a dollar. She must have had money all the time. The starvation story had been an act and I had fallen for it.

I went over to my door, took out the key, put it in the lock and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t turn. I tried the handle and the door swung open. It wasn’t locked. I remembered locking it before I left to see Willy, and now it was unlocked.

I had a sudden feeling of uneasiness as I went to my dressing-table drawer. That was unlocked too, and the thirty dollars that had to last me for a week had vanished.

I had been taken for a ride all right.

II

I had a pretty thin week. Rusty staked me to a couple of meals a day, but he wouldn’t finance my cigarettes. Mrs. Millard let the rent ride after I had promised to pay extra the following week. I got through the next seven days somehow, and I thought a lot about Rima. I told myself if ever I ran into her, I’d give her something to remember me by. I was disappointed that I wasn’t going to break into the agency racket. But after a couple of weeks, I forgot about her, and my routine, non-productive life went on as before.

Then one day, a month after she had walked out on me, taking my money, Rusty asked me if I would go into Hollywood and collect a neon sign he had ordered. He said I could borrow his car and he’d give me a couple of bucks for my trouble.

I hadn’t anything better to do so I went. I collected the sign which I put in the back of the battered Oldsmobile. Then I took a drive around the film studios for something better to do.

I saw Rima outside the entrance to the Paramount Studios, arguing with the guard. I recognised her silver head as soon as I saw it.

She was wearing black skin tight jeans, a red shirt and red ballet type slippers. She looked uncared for and grubby.

I slid the car into a vacant place between a Buick and a Cadillac and walked over to her.

As I approached her, the guard went into his office and slammed the door. Rima turned and started towards me, without noticing me.

She only became aware of me when she was within three or four feet of me. She came to an abrupt stop and stared at me. Recognition jumped into her eyes and a hot flush rose to her face.

She looked furtively to right and left, but there was nowhere for her to run to, so she decided to brazen it out.

“Hello,” I said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hello.”

I moved slightly forward so I was within grabbing distance of her if she tried to make a bolt for it.

“You owe me thirty dollars,” I said and smiled at her.

“What’s that supposed to be – a joke?” Her cobalt blue eyes looked everywhere but at me. “Thirty dollars for what?”

“The thirty dollars you stole from me,” I said. “Come on, baby, let’s have it or you and I will go to the Station house and let them sort it out.”

“I didn’t steal anything from you. I owe you half a dollar: no more.”

My hand closed around her thin arm.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Don’t make a scene. I’m a lot stronger than you. You’re coming to the Station House and we’ll get them to say who is lying and who isn’t.”

She made a feeble effort to break loose, but my fingers biting into her arm must have told her she didn’t stand a chance for with a sudden shrug of her shoulders, she walked with me to the Oldsmobile. I pushed her in and got in beside her.

As I started the engine, she said, a sudden note of interest in her voice, “Is this yours?”

“No, baby, I’ve borrowed it. I’m still broke, and I’m still going to get my money out of you. How have you been getting on since the last time we met?”

She wrinkled her nose, slumping down in her seat.

“Not so good. I’m flat broke.”

“Well, a little stretch in jail will help out. At least, they feed you for free in jail.”

“You wouldn’t send me to jail.”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t providing you give me back my thirty dollars.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned, arching her chest at me and putting her hand on my arm. “I just had to have the money. I’ll pay it back. I swear I will.”

“Don’t swear about it. Just give it to me.”