Until then there was nothing to do. He couldn’t start moving without the money, couldn’t even plan until he knew how much bread he would have to get started on. He shot the rest of the afternoon at a movie. There was a double feature playing at a movie house on Broadway between 88th and 89th and he hadn’t seen either picture, so he went.
One was a cops-and-robbers thing called The Mercenaries, and the screen credits said it was based on a book that had won the Edgar, whatever the hell that meant. The other was A Sound of Distant Drums and it was about a group of young actors and actresses trying to get ahead in Hollywood. It bored him stiff. He sat through both pictures waiting for them to end, munching popcorn and smoking cigarettes in direct violation of fire department rules and regulations. Finally the pictures were over and he left the theater and wandered back toward 96th Street.
It was time for dinner almost, but he wasn’t particularly hungry. He thought maybe he’d go down to Times Square for an hour or so and bum around down there. But he decided not to. He wanted to be around whenever Beans made the scene. He had no idea how much dough was coming to him and he was dying to find out. He wondered whether Beans would clip ten or twenty bucks off the top for himself. It was possible, and he would never find out one way or the other. But it was worth it if he did. Beans would get more than Johnny could have, even if he’d been able to find a fence willing to take a chance on him.
He checked the pool hall on the off-chance that Beans was there early. He wasn’t. A guy named Phil talked Johnny into a game and they played for time — the loser picked up the tab for the games. Johnny got lucky and ran a string of six balls one time and eight the next, and from there it was easy. His eye held up and Phil wound up paying for both of them.
He left the pool hall, grabbed dinner at the luncheonette. He ate three rare hamburgers and drank a malted. His eating habits would have to change when he hit the big time, he told himself. He’d have to learn how to act in a restaurant. Not the way he’d played it last night, for example. If he was a slob, a broad might give him a fling once to see how he was in the hay. But she wouldn’t want him around on a steady basis.
Hell, it was just common sense. He’d work it out. He might not be able to read a menu in French, but he’d get by. It just took a little brains, that was all.
When he got back to the pool hall Beans was there.
“Outside,” Beans said. “I get nervous in the john. I’ll tell you all about it.”
They went outside.
They took a back booth at the candy store around the corner where the proprietor knew enough to bring them their cokes and leave them alone. Beans took a sip of his coke, lit a cigarette and smiled.
“It could have been worse,” he said.
“How much?”
“I told you — it could have been worse.”
“Yeah, but how much?”
Beans blew out smoke. “The watch was the big thing,” he said. “The one with the suede strap, not the other one. The good one, it was an Omega.”
“So?”
“Moe says it’s the best watch going. A very good mechanism. Not only that but they’re common. I mean, it’s not like there was only one of them in the city. He can sell it easy.”
“For how much?”
“How much can Moe get? I didn’t ask. Retail is around three hundred. That’s new, of course. This is like second-hand.”
“How much did he give me?”
Beans smiled. “Ninety. That’s just for the one watch. It was the big item. The table lighter, it’s a Ronson and all but it isn’t worth that much. Not gold just silver. The bracelet did pretty good and the engagement ring was good, diamonds like that always are. The total comes to three-ten.”
“Three hundred and ten bucks?”
Beans nodded.
Johnny covered his excitement by swigging the coke. The money he had in cash plus the $310 from the stuff gave him close to five big bills.
He was rich.
It was that simple. With dough like that he could buy more clothes than he needed and take a room in a damn good hotel. There wouldn’t be any more skimping, any of the hand-to-mouth routine.
Not now.
Now he was set. The money, even if he blew it in a fancier front, would last a good long while. And by the time it was gone he would have plenty coming in.
He was set.
“$310,” he said reverently. “That’s nice, Beans. You did good.”
“That’s what he gave me.”
“How much do I owe you?”
Beans looked blank. “It was a favor.”
“A favor is one thing. This is more.”
“I just ran an errand.”
“You got bread coming. A fence coulda given me thirty bucks for the watch and I wouldn’ta known the difference. How much do you want?”
Beans looked away. “I already took,” he said. “I’m a rat, Johnny.”
“How much did you take?”
“Twenty. You want it back you can have it. I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s just—”
“You got ten more coming, man. Take it off the top and pass me the three yards.”
“You mean it?”
“Course I mean it. C’mon — give me the three bills. That’s plenty.”
Beans made movements under the table. He separated a ten-spot from a roll and passed the roll under the table to Johnny. Johnny took it, shoved it into a pocket.
“Nobody knows about this,” he said.
“I’m clam, Johnny. You’re cutting loose, aren’t you?”
“Somebody say so?”
Beans shook his head. “Just a guess. The way you been acting, I don’t know. Leaving the city?”
“Just the neighborhood.”
“What’s the bit?”
Briefly Johnny told him what he had planned. Beans listened in silence. He seemed to understand. He, too, was a professional in his chosen field of endeavor.
“Luck,” he said finally. “Drop around when you get the chance. I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, though. It may get hot for me soon. Nobody caught me yet but people have been adding things up. The cops’ll hear the rumble. They won’t catch me in the act. They’ll wait and jump on me when I’ve got a roomful of stolen stuff. I want to leave before the roof falls in.”
“Luck.”
Beans left the candy store. Johnny stayed where he was, ordered another coke and sipped at it. No more Beans, he thought. No more cokes. No more candy stores and no more pool halls.
Instead he’d hang out in bars and eat in posh restaurants and go to Broadway shows. There was no questions about it — it would be a switch But it would also be a change for the better, and there was no question about that either.
He laughed suddenly. He was only seventeen. Maybe the bartenders in the 59th Street bars wouldn’t serve him. That would be a hell of a thing.
He laughed again.
Then he finished his coke, paid for it, and left the candy store. He bolted his door again with the two-by-four and counted out all his money. It came to $450 and change. He was beginning to get nervous — he’d never had a roll like that before, had never even thought about that kind of bread. But he wasn’t going to kick. Nobody would take the money. And in another day or two he’d be holed out in a decent hotel where you didn’t have to worry about getting your money stolen.
He hid the money in the room, finding four different hiding places and dividing the money into four bundles. Then he took a subway down to Times Square and wandered around, trying his skill at a shooting gallery, grabbing a hot dog at Grant’s, downing a beer in a bar on Eighth Avenue. He killed time until he was tired, then grabbed a cab back to his room and sacked out.