Read Online Nightmare Alley by William Lindsay Gresham - Free Book Online

fond as all hell of you. Maybe a little too fond of you. But we got to have some sense. Now you be good. We’ll get together one of these days—or nights. And we’ll have fun. That’s a promise. I’ll lay it on the line just as soon as ever we can.”
    “I wish I could believe it.”
    She slid her cool arms around his neck and gave him the promise between his lips, warm, sweet, and searching. His heart began to pound.
    “Tonight?”
    “We’ll see.”
    “Make it tonight.”
    She shook her head. “I got to make Pete write some letters. He can’t if he gets too loaded and he’s got some that need answering. You can’t let your friends down in show business. You find that out when you get on your uppers and have to hit ’em for a loan. Maybe tomorrow night.”
    Stan turned away, rebellious and savage, feeling as if the whole surface of his mind had been rubbed the wrong way. He hated Zeena and her Pete.
    On his way over to the cookhouse for his supper he passed Pete. Pete was sober and shaky and profane. Zeena would have hidden his bottle in view of the letter-writing session. His eyes had begun to pop.
    “Got a spare dollar on you, kid?” Pete whispered.
    Zeena came up behind them. “You two boys stay right here and have your supper,” she said, pushing them toward the cookhouse. “I’ve got to find a drugstore in this burg that keeps open late. Nothing like a girl’s being careful of her beauty, huh? I’ll be right back, honey,” she said to Pete, fastening a loose button of his shirt. “We got to catch up on our correspondence.”
    Stan ate quickly, but Pete pushed the food around, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and wiped his hand carefully with his napkin.
    He crushed the napkin into a hard, paper wad and aimed it at the cook’s back with a curse.
    “You got a spare fin, kid?”
    “No. Let’s get on back to the tent. You got the new Billboard to read. Zeena left it under the stage.”
    They walked back in silence.
    Stan put up his cot and watched the Ten-in-One settle down for the night. Under the astrology stage a single light burned, winking through the cracks of the boards. Inside Pete was sitting at the table, trying to read the Billboard and going over and over the same paragraph.
    Why couldn’t Zeena have let him accompany her to the store, Stan asked himself. Then, on the way, maybe they could have warmed up and she would have forgotten about Pete and writing letters.
    Zeena had slipped the bottle under the seat of Major Mosquito’s chair. Stan jumped down from his own platform and crossed the tent softly. The Major’s tiny cot was just above his head; he could hear above him the quick breathing which sounded soprano. His hand found the bottle, drew it out.
    There was only an inch or two left in it. Stan turned back and crept up the steps of Zeena’s theater. A few moments later he came down and squeezed into the understage compartment. The bottle, more than half full now, was in his hand.
    “How about a drink, Pete?”
    “Glory be to God!” The flask was nearly snatched from his hand. Pete jerked the cork, holding it out to Stan automatically. The next instant he had it in his mouth and his Adam’s apple was working. He drained it and handed it back. “God almighty. A friend in need as the saying goes. I’m afraid I didn’t leave much for you, Stan.”
    “That’s all right. I don’t care for any right now.”
    Pete shook his head and seemed to pull himself together. “You’re a good kid, Stan. You got a fine act. Don’t let anything ever keep you out of the big time. You can go places, Stan, if you don’t get bogged down. You should have seen us when we were on top. Used to pack ’em in. They’d sit through four other acts just to see us. Boy, I can remember all the times we had our names on the marquee in letters a foot high—top billing —everywhere we went. We had plenty fun, too.
    “But you— Why, kid, the greatest names in the business started right