Bugsy Malone Read Online Free PDF

was right behind her. Her face dropped. As she moved away, Bugsy quickly followed.
    â€œCan I give you a lift?”
    Blousey was determined to ignore him, but the offer of a lift was too tempting.
    â€œYou got a car?”
    Bugsy couldn’t lie. “Er... no.”
    Blousey was not impressed.
    â€œSo how you gonna give me a lift, buster? Stand me on a box?”
    â€œI thought we’d share a cab.”
    Blousey was even less impressed. “Forget it, I don’t share fares. I’m a lady. Furthermore, I’m broke.”
    Blousey quickened her pace, and Bugsy had to run to keep up with her.
    â€œWho said anything about sharing fares?”
    â€œNo?” Blousey was curious.
    â€œCertainly, not. I thought you’d pay.”
    That was it. Not even if he turned out to be a Vanderbilt or a producer with the Ziegfield Follies would she give him any more of her time.
    Bugsy carried on undaunted. “Well, let’s walk, anyway. It’s a nice night.”
    Blousey splashed through a puddle and muttered under her breath. She was beginning to feel irritated by him.
    â€œYou shouldn’t walk in the streets at night – it’s dangerous.”
    â€œWe’ll be all right. We’ve got your baseball bat.”
    Blousey stopped dead in her tracks.
    â€œQuit the we , pal. You mean I’ll be all right.”
    She started walking once more, this time even faster. Bugsy’s little legs moved back and forth at twice their normal rate to catch up with her. He was beginning to puff as he spoke.
    â€œWhich way are you going?”
    â€œWhich way are you going?”
    Bugsy thought for a moment. He was no brain surgeon but his brain clicked away like two sharp-edged steel cubes. He wasn’t really going anywhere special, but he’d made his mind up to tag along with her. He pointed in the direction that they were already walking. “This way.”
    He was wrong. Blousey did an immediate about turn.
    â€œThen I’m going this way.”
    Bugsy ran and caught her up. He tugged at the old leather bag, which seemed to be giving her a little trouble. She changed it from hand to hand, trying hard not to show that her arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets.
    â€œHere, let me take that.”
    â€œNo, it’s all right.”
    Bugsy took the bag from her but she quickly snatched it back. Bugsy snatched once more. Maybe it was her aching arms, or maybe she was getting to like him. Either way she let him carry the bag. Bugsy wasn’t overwhelmed by the compliment.
    â€œMama Mia! What have you got in here?”
    â€œJust a few books.”
    â€œYou should start a library.”
    â€œAnd you should shut your mouth.”
    There was no way that Blousey was going to allow herself to lose a battle of words with this stranger. She was feeling pretty depressed after her wasted visit to the speakeasy, and not in the mood for a verbal ping-pong match with yet another New York wise guy. But the bag was heavy and he did have a sort of charm about him. Let’s face it, she thought to herself, with a suit as baggy as he was wearing you’d need charm. It was true he’d certainly never make the best dressed top ten list in the ‘Phoenix Tailor and Cutter Monthly’ , but then again, his eyes did sparkle a little – or seemed to whenever the street lamps flickered across his face. Or maybe his eyes were watering because his belt was too tight. No, she gave him the benefit of the doubt, it was a sparkle.
    Bugsy took a deep breath as he changed hands on the bag. He thought he was in shape, but, not being prone to heavy work – or even light work – he never had much chance to find out how unfit he was. Bravely, he kept up his dialogue.
    â€œEr... have you eaten?”
    â€œEver since I was a child.”
    â€œThen how come you’re so skinny, wisie?”
    Blousey held in her tummy. “I watch my