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Show After awhile, I went out and hit the cafe where I got only a few dimes and quarters. But Danny figured out what I'd been doing. "Look, this is the biggest pay-off in town," he told me, half-pleading, half-angry. "All the rich people stay here." I hung my head. "I know. But he scares me. Maybe he works for the hotel. What if he calls the police?" I imagined what would happen if the law asked why we sold papers in saloons. "He doesn't work for the casino!" Danny yelled. "He's just a bossy old busy-body! Now go on, and if he stops you, tell him to mind his own business." "I can't." I looked at my shoes. Danny blew out a big sigh. "All right. Look. Just go in and tell him you've gotta sell papers so your family can eat." "You tell him. You go sell papers in there." He shook his hands at me. "I can't cash in like you, don't you see? Now go on. Tell him your dad is dead and you've gotta make money. Go on!" I spun through the mirrored doors, and there he was, standing beside the polar bear, a hand looped through each suspender. I headed for the one-arm bandits, slinking against the wall. But his roving eye caught me. He reached out, fingers digging into my shoulder like claws. "Kid, I told you not to come in here no more." My heart stuck in my throat. I swallowed. "I have to...I have to sell papers. My dad is...gone. Mama's sick. I have to make some money." I took a deep breath. I hadn't lied. His beady glare softened. "See that sign? It says 'No |
