Requiem for Moses Read Online Free PDF Page B

ticket out of here and into the life hitherto he had only dreamed of? He leaned nearer the doctor. “No, Doc, I got a dream. Most of us do.”
    Green was amused. “What’s yours, Jake?”
    “My place. My own place. And then a string of my places. High class. Great food, generous drinks. Tip-top service. Gorgeous, talented dancers. And much, much more. I’m gonna get the businessmen, fast trackers, the movers and shakers.”
    “Sounds pretty ambitious. Think you can pull it off?” Green was smiling contentedly. He had a ball on a string. He could make the cat chase the ball. The cat was Cameron; the ball was Cameron’s dream.
    “I could do it. I know exactly what I want and what I need. I refine blueprints of the place in my head every night before I go to sleep. I know just where to get the right guys and broads, the best dancers. I know exactly where on Eight Mile Road to put the place.”
    “What’s holding you back?”
    “Guess.”
    “How much?”
    “A hundred grand.”
    Green whistled quietly.
    They both sat back. For the first time they gave attention to the dancer. She was finishing her go-go routine. She’d been gyrating in four or five similar steps. The loud accompaniment ground to silence. With one final grind and bump, she left the stage to the lecherous applause of three unsteady patrons.
    Close on her heels came the next dancer. She stood, shifting from one foot to the other until her music began. She was neither better nor worse than her predecessor.
    Green tossed down the last of his martini. There was no evident reason why he shouldn’t leave. But he didn’t. He seemed to be weighing some sort of decision. Cameron, of course, was in no hurry to have him leave.
    “A hundred grand, eh?” Green’s voice was just audible over the music.
    “Yeah. That’d do it. You don’t …”
    “Maybe. What kind of collateral you got?”
    Cameron enumerated his worldly goods. The total was not impressive.
    Green made no notations during the recitation. He ran an invisible tab in his head. When Cameron finished, after a short pause, Green said, “I make between fifty and sixty grand—total.”
    “Maybe more,” Cameron suggested.
    “Uh-uh. That’s it. Tops.”
    Cameron’s heart sank. Not much against a hundred grand.
    “Tell you what we might do,” Green said.
    Cameron’s deflated hopes pumped up somewhat. “What? Anything.”
    “You got a lawyer?”
    Cameron shook his head.
    “Well, get one. Then our lawyers can get together and make this nice and legal. But I’ll give you the gist of it now: It’ll be a five-year loan. If you default, we take over the operation, lock, stock, and boobs … okay so far?”
    Cameron nodded wordlessly.
    “One other thing,” Green said. “You throw in Margie.”
    “What?”
    “Think about it. This is not negotiable.”
    The more Cameron thought about it, the less sense it made. “How can I possibly include Margie in the deal? I don’t own her. Besides, she’s not a bar or a supply of liquor.”
    “You get out of her life. I don’t care how you do it. That’s up to you. But you do it within this month. Then I step in.”
    “What happens if she doesn’t want to go with you?”
    “Hell …” He smiled wickedly. “If I can’t make her my woman, you can have her back. I just don’t want to have to bother with you along the way.”
    Cameron, shocked, examined Moe Green more closely. He wasn’t much to look at. He appeared to be in his late thirties, early forties. Margie was nineteen. He dressed well. Dark, thinning hair, maybe six feet tall, slender. Dusky skin, sharp features.
    Physically, Green wasn’t in Cameron’s league. Financially, Cameron couldn’t begin to touch Green.
    One thing was certain: Green’s taste in women was superior, if not impeccable. Not only was Margie almost a classic beauty, she had a sharp intellect. Indeed she was part and parcel of the plans for Cameron’s super topless club. He would front the establishment, run