Dreams Bigger Than the Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

future. Right, Abe?”
    The big man chuckled and, resting his elbows on his knees, cradled his chin in his hands. “Let’s talk.”
    “If I can be of service . . .” Jay replied cautiously, breaking off because he knew that some of Zwillman’s unsavory enterprises took a stronger stomach than his.
    “Your reports on Dutch’s boys are good stuff.”
    So he had finally determined his real employer.
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “You have a way with words. When I read your accounts it’s like reading a story. I’m impressed.”
    “I like to write.”
    “That’s what Puddy says.” Abe lit a cigar and tossed the match into the fireplace. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted this information. Well, I’ll tell you. I don’t want to see any drugs in the Third Ward. Call it religious scruples. The Ten Commandments may not forbid it, but Jews shouldn’t be using dope. I’ve warned Dutch before, several times. We’re still friends, but . . .”
    What, Jay wondered, was Longie’s real beef, the drugs, or the calculated slight of Dutch’s ignoring repeated threats? Maybe there was even another reason. Jay repositioned the book lying on the coffee table next to the couch: The Great Gatsby .
    “Jean loves to read,” she said indolently, reaching for her handbag and removing a box of Chiclets. Shaking a few directly into her mouth, she cracked her gum, inviting Zwillman’s displeasure.
    “Sorry, Jean thought she was with her own kind,” she murmured and laughed mischievously.
    Zwillman, who couldn’t keep his peepers from her puss, responded with an affectionate smile that seemed like a secret code, and then turned to Jay. “The name’s Klug, right?”
    “That’s what my parents tell me,” Jay quipped, trying to appear snappy.
    “Curse or clever?” Abe asked playing on the Yiddish double meaning.
    “Clever, I hope.”
    “Me, too.”
    “He looks real smart . . . cute, too,” said Jean, flashing a smile that promised she was prejudiced in Jay’s favor—and that made him her faithful fan.
    “You used to work for your father. How was that?”
    “Awful. He believes in the sanctity of labor, no matter how dreary the job.”
    Longie huffed sympathetically. “Some jobs ennoble, most don’t. As a kid I peddled door-to-door. It brutalized me. I swore that I would never grovel again. Let me give you some advice, son, whatever you do, do for money, a lot of it. There’s nothing worse than a bad job and a flat bank account. Better to be a pimp than a pauper.”
    “I’d just like a job that doesn’t turn my mind to rabbit droppings—and pays well.”
    “Since you want to write, what would you say to reporting for the Newark Evening News , in the arts section?”
    “I . . . you mean . . . just like that . . . me?”
    “You, Jay Klug. The editor owes me a favor.”
    At that moment, Jay could have used a drink. His mouth felt like feathers, and his dry throat brought forth only a croak.
    “Did you say what’s the deal?” said Zwillman.
    Jay nodded emphatically. Longie briefly glanced at Jean.
    “You’ll be the movie theater critic for the paper, and you’ll get paid twenty-five dollars a week. In return, I expect to see rave reviews for Jean’s work.” Longie fixed Jay with his gaze. “Understood?”
    Finding his voice, Jay said too loudly, “Hell, yes!”
    “One other thing. I got you a room at the Riviera Hotel. I keep one there myself. In return, I’ll want some favors, including your writing newspaper articles critical of the Olympics, and letters for the American Jewish Congress, which is leading the charge to boycott the events in Berlin. I’ll give you a list of names and addresses, letterhead stationery, and stamped envelopes. Dutch Schultz is on the address list. Be sure he gets a letter.”
    Jay desperately searched through his mind for an explanation that he could give his parents. They would undoubtedly ask how he could be earning enough money to pay rent in the Riviera, known for