Read Online The Only Girl in the Game by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B

that needed doing, installing checks and controls, weeding out and strengthening the staff. In this process he had learned he could trust Bunny Rice. One dawn while they were discussing individuals, Hugh casually mentioned Betty Dawson as being Max Hanes’ girl.
    Bunny looked pained. “No, it isn’t that way, Mr. D. I’ve never known of Max to take that kind of interest in any girl, or any boy either, in case I’m giving you the wrong idea. Max is maybe in love with the money room.”
    “I guess I got that idea because Miss Dawson has been here so long.”
    Bunny had shrugged. “She’s not a big draw, but she’s got a following. She’s on the tab for room and food, so what Max pays her makes hardly any dent in his budget. She doesn’t make any kind of trouble, and she knows how to handle a drunk.”
    “Shouldn’t she get better hours after being here so long?”
    “Betty likes that shift, Mr. D. She really does. She has a point. She can sleep late, get up in time to catch some sun, have herself a nice evening before she has to go on. Other entertainers, you keep them on that shift too long, they start to bitch about it. Not Betty.”
    “So she’s found her home away from home.”
    “I guess she’ll stay quite a while.”
    “Bunny, you gave that little remark a strange sort of emphasis.”
    “There’s some kind of an edge working for her.”
    “I’m getting goddam tired of the little hints about wheels within wheels around this place. What kind of an edge? What kind of an angle?”
    “Don’t get sore. I didn’t mean anything by it. And it isn’t just this place. It’s the whole town. You hear things, that’s all. I don’t know anything specific about Betty Dawson. ButI’ve gotten the impression that … there’s some other kind of tie-up with Hanes and Al Marta, something that makes it unlikely they’ll fire her or that she’ll quit. I think she comes from a good family. I guess you can tell that. She’s a doctor’s daughter, they say, and she went to college, and for quite a while she had an act with Jackie Luster, and nobody ever got mixed up with him without coming out on the short end. He can pack any room in town and name his own price, but nobody in show business who knows him well can stand being in the same room with him except when working.”
    And so Hugh Darren had added all the bits of information together, but it was not until nearly the end of his second month on the job that he got to know her. They had nodded and smiled and said the appropriate greetings whenever they met in the corridor or on the staircase or in the elevator.
    He came out of his room at dawn one morning in October just as she was walking slowly toward her room.
    “It’s time I thanked you, Mr. Darren.”
    “For?”
    “Nice little things going on. Nice, and appreciated. Better food, better service, and the whole gaudy joint is cleaner and smarter, inside and out. And all your little service people are … I don’t know how to say it … getting a better attitude about working. They act less like they’re doing you an enormous favor to fill your water glass or hand you your mail.”
    “I didn’t know whether it was beginning to show, Miss Dawson. I’ve been too close to it to really see it.”
    “Oh, it’s showing. And it’s wonderful. Living here was beginning to seem a hell of a lot like camping out, or like one of those collection points for refugees from disasters. You’re a pro, Mr. Darren.” She smiled at him. “And do you know what I like best?”
    “What’s that?”
    “The way you kinda drift around, no sweat, no strain. Just ambling around in a slow smiley way.”
    “I keep pretending I’m not getting an ulcer.”
    She yawned. “ ’Scuse please. I guess I hate fidgety, nervous little managers who trot to and fro, bobbing and wringing their hands. It wears me out watching them. You apparently get no rest at all, but you’re still restful.”
    “And thanks for that too,