Read Online Twilight Eyes by Dean Koontz - Free Book Online Page B

aren’t nasty but funny , and they always react to funny better. I can do lots of stuff.”
    “Well, well,” Jelly Jordan said, “seems like the gods are smiling on the Sombra Brothers today, damned if they ain’t, sending us such a splendid young jack-of-all-trades. Absolutely splendid. Absolute.”
    “Kid me all you want, Mr. Jordan, but please find something for me. I swear I won’t disappoint you.”
    He stood up and stretched, and his belly jiggled. “Well, Slim, I think I’ll tell Rya Raines about you. She’s a concessionaire. She needs someone to run the high-striker for her. Ever done that?”
    “Sure.”
    “Okay. If she likes you, and if you can get along with her, you’re all set. If you can’t get along with her, come back and see me, and I’ll set you up with someone else or put you on the Sombra Brothers payroll.”
    I got up, too. “This Mrs. Raines—”
    “Miss.”
    “Since you brought it up . . . is she difficult to get along with or something?”
    He smiled. “You’ll see. Now, as for sleeping arrangements, I figure you ain’t come rolling in here with your own trailer any more than your own concession, so you’ll want to bunk down in one of the show’s dormitory trailers. I’ll find out who needs another roommate, and you can pay the first week’s rent to Cash Dooley, the accountant you met in the other room.”
    I fidgeted. “Uh, well, I left a backpack and sleeping bag out there, and I really prefer bunking down under the stars. Healthier.”
    “Don’t allow that here,” he said. “If we did, we’d have a bunch of roughies sleeping on the ground, drinking out in the open, copulating with everything from women to stray cats, which would make us look like some absolute ragbag outfit, which we sure ain’t. We’re a class act all the way.”
    “Oh.”
    He cocked his head and squinted at me. “Broke?”
    “Well . . .”
    “Can’t pay rent?”
    I shrugged.
    “We’ll carry you for two weeks,” he said. “After that you pay like everybody else.”
    “Gee, thanks, Mr. Jordan.”
    “Call me Jelly now that you’re one of us.”
    “Thanks, Jelly, but I’ll let you carry me for just one week. After that I’ll be on my feet. Now, should I go straight on up to the high-striker from here? I know where it is, and I know you have an eleven o’clock show call today, which means about ten minutes until the gates open.”
    He was still squinting at me. The fat bunched around his eyes, and his plum nose wrinkled up as if it might turn into a prune. He said, “You have breakfast yet?”
    “No, sir. Wasn’t hungry.”
    “It’s almost lunchtime.”
    “Still not hungry.”
    “I’m always hungry,” he said. “You have dinner last night?”
    “Me?”
    “You.”
    “Sure.”
    He frowned skeptically, dug in his pocket, pulled out a pair of one-dollar bills, and came around the desk with his hand held toward me.
    “Oh, no, Mr. Jordan—”
    “Jelly—”
    “—Jelly. I couldn’t accept it.”
    “Just a loan,” he said, taking my hand and stuffing the money in it. “You’ll pay me back. That’s an absolute fact.”
    “But I’m not that broke. I have some money.”
    “How much?”
    “Well . . . ten bucks.”
    He grinned again. “Show me.”
    “Huh?”
    “Liar. How much, really?”
    I looked down at my feet.
    “Really, now? Tell the truth,” he said warningly.
    “Well . . . ummm . . . twelve cents.”
    “Oh, yes, I see. You’re an absolute Rockefeller. Good heavens, I am definitely mortified to think I tried to loan you money. A wealthy man at seventeen, clearly an heir to the Vanderbilt fortune!” He gave me two more bucks. “Now you listen to me, Mr. Filthy Rich Playboy, you go to Sam Trizer’s grab-joint by the merry-go-round. It’s one of the best on the lot, and he opens early to serve carnies. Get yourself a good lunch and then go see Rya Raines at her high-striker.”
    I nodded, embarrassed by my poverty because a Stanfeuss never relied on anyone