"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 320 - Reign of Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"What's up?"

"Some guy says he can do you some good." The maitre d'hotel was not interested.

The comic walked to the table. He sized up the two men sitting there. If they were booking agents he'd
never seen them before, but that wasn't surprising. There were almost as many bookers as acts.

One of the men whose slitted eyes seemed to hurt even in the dull blue lights of the nightclub said, "Sit
down."

Seating himself the comedian waited.

"You finish here tonight." It was not a question but a statement of fact.

"Yes, why?"

"How'd you like forty weeks booking at five bills a week?"

Since the comedian was only making three hundred a week he was very interested. He said, "Tell me
more."

"That's all, you want the booking or not?" the man with the tiny pupils in his slits of eyes said. "Speak up.
There's plenty of crumby m.c. comics who are starving. You want the booking or don't you?"

It was true about the comics starving. The entertainment business was way off from the war time boom.
The comedian said, "Sure, I want the booking."

"It'll cost you five grand. You drop the dough and you sign the contract." This was from the other man
who up to this point had not spoken.

"Five thous... Ya kiddin'?"

Slit eyes said, "In or out? You want in say so. If not we go next door. There's a comic there too."

"But where would I get that kind of dough?"

"Questions he asks," Slit eyes said.

The other man said, "Don't you know any shylocks?"

"Yeah, but..."

The two men stood up. Slit eyes said, "Ya can't do business with some of these creeps, that's all there is
to it."

The comedian gulped, then said, "Gimme twenty-four hours to try and raise the dough, will you?"

"We'll be back tomorrow night this time. Don't louse around, if you don't think you can raise it, tell us
now. We're busy."