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Show in my father's house/ 183 He stopped at the entrance of the first casino, a sprawling brightly-lit place with a cafe at one end. "Now you ain't supposed to go into the gambling places." "Mama says you shouldn't say ain't* It's coarse." "I'll say what I want," Danny muttered. He handed me a dozen papers. "Go into the cafe first, and walk up to the men - not the ladies, but the men - and smile and say 'Paper, sir?' as nice as you can. If they ask for change tell 'em you don't have any. Then, when no-.one's looking, go into the casino and walk up to the people playing the slots. After that hit the card tables and roulette wheels. It's dark in there so nobody'11 notice you. Then bring me the money. I'll be waiting right here, selling papers on the street." "You said I'm not supposed to go into the casino." I said it timidly. "It's all right. Just don't get caught. Wait." Danny scooped a little dirt from the cornier of the sidewalk and rubbed it in his hands like he was up to bat. Then he patted my face with his dusty hands. "Don't! You'll get me dirty!" "That's the point. We want 'em to feel sorry for you. If anybody asks, tell 'em you're selling papers because your dad is dead." I gasped. "That's a lie, Danny." He shrugged. "We have to lie about the family anyway. May as well tell 'em he's dead as tell 'em he's a traveling salesman." I nodded and walked to the mirror-plated revolving door where I paused, feeling scared and exhilirated. I could feel my heart |