The Referral Game

pretty as I had thought. The avarice plainly visible on her face gave it a new hardness. I shivered involuntarily.
    “I could arrange for something to come your way. It depends on how much help you can give.” Good old-fashioned greed was going to break this for me.
    “For a thousand I’ll take you right to her.”
    “A hundred,” I said. I didn’t want to seem to eager. Susie was panning out to be the kind of girl who would jack up the price if I took the first offer.
    “A lousy hundred?” No southern accent anymore. “You gave Martinez two, you bum.”
    I let her sweat for a minute. “Alright, I’ll match that, two hundred.”
    “A thousand,” she pouted.
    Two hundred,” I said and pulled the envelope out. Removing two more hundreds I held them in my hand toward her. “This is a limited time offer Susie.”
    She looked at the money and licked her lips, but said nothing.
    “This window closing, please go to the next teller,” I said and started to withdraw the wad.
    “Alright,” she almost screamed. “I’ll take it.”
    She snatched the money from my hand. “All I ever get are bums, deadbeats and cheapskates. And you’re all three mister.”
    I was going to have to try hard not to let all this sweet talk go to my head. “You know, lots of people talk that way and end up getting married.”
    She sat glowering at me.
    “Where’s Paula?”
    Susie’s expression changed to an evil grin. “I left her in my dressing room before I came in here.”
    I didn’t speak.
    “You think you’re so smart. You thought that you were getting the best of poor stupid Susie.”
    She let loose with a barrage of laughter and it was some time before she could bring herself under control.
    “Paula works backstage helping the dancers with wardrobe changes and make-up. You know we don’t just peel our clothes off here, we put on a real show. She does alterations, costume design, and when they need her she even schleps drinks. Our little Paula is a worker.
    “So you see Randall, if you had just asked for her you’d be ahead one grand now. But you had to be a smart guy and play detective with everyone instead of being an Honest John.”
    I could feel my face getting red. She was right, if I had shown the picture of Paula I had to the bartender or the waitress or Rudy or anybody in this dump I would probably already be with Paula. If I had stayed off the booze I might have thought things out a little bit more. And what was Pomeroy going to say when he heard how I blew four hundred dollars of his money on information when I didn’t need to? I could just see his face. And what about Bill? He had recommended me and I was turning out to be a bumbler.
    Susie stood over me gloating.
    “It’s starting to sink in isn’t it? You’re finally getting it aren’t you? Don’t worry Randall I won’t tell anyone what a sap you’ve been.”
    I still didn’t say anything.
    “Come on bonehead. I’ll introduce you to Miss Wray. I’ll walk slowly. You’ve had a long day.”
    She was right so I kept my mouth shut and followed her out the door.

Chapter 5

The Ex Wife

S he led me backstage through a steady stream of young women in various stages of undress, none of whom paid me any attention. There were curtains, ropes, more mirrors and a heavyset, dark featured man barking out assignments.
    “Chaz,” said Susie. “Where’s Paula?”
    “She’s in your dressing room getting your things ready. Which is where you should be if you are finished with your private session.” He gave me an appraising look. I felt like he could tell how much money I had on me right down to the change and the twenty I kept in my right shoe for emergencies.
    “Come on,” said Susie grabbing my arm. “I’ll make sure that you don’t get lost on the way.”
    She led me to a door with a star on it and a sign that read knock before entering. She opened the door and called out: “Paula, you got a visitor.”
    Susie stepped aside, waved for me to enter and said: “Break a leg tough guy. I hope you’re on the level.” She walked away. I stood for a moment and walked into the room.

    I recognized Paula at once from her photo. She was seated, leaning over a table, sewing a sequined outfit. She was a lovely girl, not as obvious as Susie, but in a subtle way she was even more beautiful. I tried to picture her with a dry stick like Pomeroy, but it would not come into focus.
    She looked up as I came in. In a soft and smoky voice she said: “Can