Read Online Shoot the Piano Player by David Goodis - Free Book Online
Authors: David Goodis
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Feather said. "We're very pleased to meet you, Eddie." Then he reached back and opened the rear door. "Why stand out there in the snow? Slide in and get comfortable'
"I'm comfortable," Eddie said.
Feather held the door open. "It's warmer in the car."
"I know it is," Eddie said. "I'd rather stay out here. I like it out here."
Feather and Morris looked at each other. Morris moved his hand toward his lapel, his fingers sliding under and in, and Feather said, "Leave it alone. We don't need that."
"I wanna show it to him," Morris said.
"He knows it's there."
"Maybe he ain't sure. I want him to be sure."
"All right, show it to him."
Morris reached in under his lapel and took out a small black revolver. It was chunky and looked heavy but he handled it as though it were a fountain pen. He twirled it once and it came down flat in his palm. He let it stay there for a few moments, then returned it to the holster under his lapel. Feather was saying to Eddie, "You wanna get in the car?"
"No." Eddie said.
Again Feather and Morris looked at each other. Morris said, "Maybe he thinks we're kidding."
"He knows we're not kidding."
Morris said to Eddie, "Get in the car. You gonna get in the car?"
"If I feel like it." Eddie was smiling again. "Right now I don't feel like it."
Morris frowned. "What's the matter with you? You can't be that stupid. Maybe you're sick in the head, or something." And then, to Feather, "How's he look to you?"
Feather was studying Eddie's face. "1 don't know," he murmured slowly and thoughtfully. "He looks like he can't feel anything."
"He can feel metal," Morris said. "He gets a chunk of metal in his face, he'll feel it."
Eddie stood there next to the opened window, his hands going through his pocket and hunting for cigarettes. Feather asked him what he was looking for and he said, "A smoke," but there were no cigarettes and finally Feather gave him one and lit it for him and then said, "I'll give you more if you want. I'll give you an entire pack. If that ain't enough, I'll give you a carton. Or maybe you'd rather have cash."
Eddie didn't say anything.
"How's fifty dollars?" Morris said, smiling genially at Eddie.
"What would that buy me?" He wasn't looking at either of them.
"A new overcoat," Morris said. "You could use a new overcoat."
"I think he wants more than that," Feather said, again studying Eddie's face. He was waiting for Eddie to say something. He waited for some fifteen seconds, then said, "You want to quote a figure?"
Eddie spoke very softly. "For what? What am I selling?"
"You know," Feather said. And then, "A hundred?"
Eddie didn't reply. He was grazing slantwise through the opened window, through the windshield, and past the hood of the Buick.
"Three hundred?" Feather asked.
"That covers a lot of expenses," Morris put in.
"I ain't got much expenses," Eddie said..
"Then why you stalling?" Feather asked mildly.
"I'm not stalling," Eddie said. "I'm just thinking."
"Maybe he thinks we ain't got that kind of money." Morris said.
"Is that what's holding up the deal?" Feather said to Eddie. "You wanna see the roll?"
Eddie shrugged.
"Sure, let him see it," Morris said. "Let him know we're not just talking, we got the solid capital."
Feather reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a shiny lizard billfold. His fingers went in and came out with a sheaf of crisp currency. He counted it aloud, as though counting it for himself, but loud enough for Eddie to hear. There were twenties and fifties and hundreds. The total was well over two thousand dollars. Feather returned the money to the billfold and put it back in his pocket.
"That's a lot of money to carry around," Eddie commented.
"That's chicken feed," Feather said.
"Depends on the annual income," Eddie murmured. "You make a bundle, you can carry a bundle. Or sometimes it ain't yours, they just give it to you to spend."
"They?" Feather narrowed his eyes. "Who you mean by they?"
Eddie shrugged again. "I mean, when you work for big people--"
Feather
"I'm comfortable," Eddie said.
Feather held the door open. "It's warmer in the car."
"I know it is," Eddie said. "I'd rather stay out here. I like it out here."
Feather and Morris looked at each other. Morris moved his hand toward his lapel, his fingers sliding under and in, and Feather said, "Leave it alone. We don't need that."
"I wanna show it to him," Morris said.
"He knows it's there."
"Maybe he ain't sure. I want him to be sure."
"All right, show it to him."
Morris reached in under his lapel and took out a small black revolver. It was chunky and looked heavy but he handled it as though it were a fountain pen. He twirled it once and it came down flat in his palm. He let it stay there for a few moments, then returned it to the holster under his lapel. Feather was saying to Eddie, "You wanna get in the car?"
"No." Eddie said.
Again Feather and Morris looked at each other. Morris said, "Maybe he thinks we're kidding."
"He knows we're not kidding."
Morris said to Eddie, "Get in the car. You gonna get in the car?"
"If I feel like it." Eddie was smiling again. "Right now I don't feel like it."
Morris frowned. "What's the matter with you? You can't be that stupid. Maybe you're sick in the head, or something." And then, to Feather, "How's he look to you?"
Feather was studying Eddie's face. "1 don't know," he murmured slowly and thoughtfully. "He looks like he can't feel anything."
"He can feel metal," Morris said. "He gets a chunk of metal in his face, he'll feel it."
Eddie stood there next to the opened window, his hands going through his pocket and hunting for cigarettes. Feather asked him what he was looking for and he said, "A smoke," but there were no cigarettes and finally Feather gave him one and lit it for him and then said, "I'll give you more if you want. I'll give you an entire pack. If that ain't enough, I'll give you a carton. Or maybe you'd rather have cash."
Eddie didn't say anything.
"How's fifty dollars?" Morris said, smiling genially at Eddie.
"What would that buy me?" He wasn't looking at either of them.
"A new overcoat," Morris said. "You could use a new overcoat."
"I think he wants more than that," Feather said, again studying Eddie's face. He was waiting for Eddie to say something. He waited for some fifteen seconds, then said, "You want to quote a figure?"
Eddie spoke very softly. "For what? What am I selling?"
"You know," Feather said. And then, "A hundred?"
Eddie didn't reply. He was grazing slantwise through the opened window, through the windshield, and past the hood of the Buick.
"Three hundred?" Feather asked.
"That covers a lot of expenses," Morris put in.
"I ain't got much expenses," Eddie said..
"Then why you stalling?" Feather asked mildly.
"I'm not stalling," Eddie said. "I'm just thinking."
"Maybe he thinks we ain't got that kind of money." Morris said.
"Is that what's holding up the deal?" Feather said to Eddie. "You wanna see the roll?"
Eddie shrugged.
"Sure, let him see it," Morris said. "Let him know we're not just talking, we got the solid capital."
Feather reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a shiny lizard billfold. His fingers went in and came out with a sheaf of crisp currency. He counted it aloud, as though counting it for himself, but loud enough for Eddie to hear. There were twenties and fifties and hundreds. The total was well over two thousand dollars. Feather returned the money to the billfold and put it back in his pocket.
"That's a lot of money to carry around," Eddie commented.
"That's chicken feed," Feather said.
"Depends on the annual income," Eddie murmured. "You make a bundle, you can carry a bundle. Or sometimes it ain't yours, they just give it to you to spend."
"They?" Feather narrowed his eyes. "Who you mean by they?"
Eddie shrugged again. "I mean, when you work for big people--"
Feather
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