Page:Levenson - Butterfly Man.djvu/49

Rh She marvelled at the Rolls-Royce. I used to dream I d ride in one of those things one of these days. Gee, it's swell to be rich."

"Meaning me?"

"Listen, you got plenty."

"I don't own a cent. Everything I have, even my clothes, belongs to someone else; I haven't even earned the money in my pocket. A Jap house boy puts twenty dollars in my pants every morning."

"Brother," she begged, "where is that Jap? He can put twenty dollars in my pants any time. Why, I'm living on twenty bucks a month so's I can buy me a new dance routine."

"You been on the stage?"

"If you call it that. I was in small-time vaudeville for a while. I slipped one day on a banana peel and nine whiskey sours; and I haven't had a job since."

"Where do you live?"

"In a two-by-four down around Vermont."

"Going back on the stage?"

"Yes, when you stop cross-examining me and my back kicks come back and I can afford some new costumes and when I find a new partner as good as you are."

"I'll work with you."

"You mean that, babe? Hm—no you won't. I know your kind."

"My kind—?" Ken stole a sidelong glance at her.

"You're in the dough, kid. Keep outa vaudeville. It's only heartbreaks, hot cakes and cold hotel rooms."

"But maybe we could form a big-time team," Ken said. "You have experience. I've got long legs."

"No, no—not you."