Max Read Online Free PDF Page B

don’t.’
    â€˜Right. You listen to a different drum.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Nothing, nothing. I read it in a book or something. I wanted to go through that new routine, and now we ain’t got time. We’re on.’
    Applying makeup quickly, Max said, ‘Go on, go on, we’ll wing it.’
    â€˜You sure?’
    â€˜I’m sure.’ He gave Bert a friendly shove. ‘Go on, go on. I’m not playing high and mighty, old buddy, I just got a nightmare thing about getting a dose.’
    â€˜Never been there myself,’ Bert said. ‘Just lucky.’ He did a soft-shoe out of the tiny room to face the manager, who whispered hoarsely, ‘Where the hell have you been?’
    â€˜Way down upon the Suwannee River,’ Bert sang.
    â€˜Funny, funny.’
    Bert was onstage. A ripple of applause from behind the gaslights; no one expected very much from a two-man song and dance team. They were just part of the scene.
    Bert bowed. ‘Bellamy and –’ He looked around him, non-plussed. ‘Bellamy and –’ He began again. Still he was alone on the stage. The repeated double-take drew some laughter from the audience. ‘Well, here I am,’ Bert said, spreading his arms in despair, ‘the only one-man two-man song and dance team in New York.’
    It was a new opening. Bert could see Joe Guttman, the manager, standing in the wing, chewing on an unlit cigar. He was drawing it out too much, and in another moment it would go flat. Where the hell was Max? Why did he always allow himself to be talked into things by that smartass little Yid? Then Max appeared, shuffling out onto the stage, the very picture of dejection and rejection. Bert was not acting when he snapped at him, ‘Where the hell have you been?’
    â€˜A man wants to be loved for himself –’
    â€˜Can that! Here I am on the stage of the Bijou Music Hall, trying to introduce a song and dance team, of which I am a part, and I say, “Introducing Bellamy and –” and what?’ Past Max, Bert saw the scowl on Guttman’s face. He was taking it straight, with no idea that they were doing a new opening. The man was a fucken cretin, but they should have anticipated that and warned him, and now he could just drop the curtain on both of them. ‘And nothing,’ Bert said desperately.
    â€˜So I was late. You know what happened to me?’
    â€˜How do I know? I’m here at the Bijou.’
    â€˜Well, I’ll tell you what happened to me. Just calm down. I’ll tell you what happened to me. Two blocks away, right on the corner of West Broadway and Canal Street, I’m stopped by a beautiful girl.’
    â€˜Beautiful girl. What was her name?’
    â€˜How the hell do I know her name? We wasn’t introduced. I wasn’t taking her home. I was stopped by her.’
    â€˜You were stopped by her. Canal and Broadway. Go on.’ Bert breathed a sigh of relief. The rhythm of their patter had gotten through to Guttman even as he was moving to drop the curtain. He paused and turned to listen.
    â€˜I said, “Lady, I don’t do that kind of thing.”’
    â€˜That’s a lie. What did she say?’
    â€˜She says, try it. Otherwise, you’ll never know what you’re missing. So I tell her I’d like to, but I’m on my way to work.’
    Bert licked his lips. ‘So she says, “What a coincidence! We can work together.”’
    â€˜How do you know that was what she said?’ Max demanded.
    â€˜Was that what she said?’
    â€˜I said that was what she said. Then she says, “Let’s work together.’”
    â€˜And you’re not even beautiful.’
    â€˜That’s what I told her. She said it don’t matter.’
    â€˜Did you tell her you don’t know up from down, boys from girls?’
    â€˜I told her. She said it don’t matter.’
    â€˜Well, what