The Grifters Read Online Free PDF

way he showed his true feelings was in the presents they exchanged. For while Lilly could obviously afford far better gifts than he, he would not admit it. At least, he did not until the effort to keep up with or outdo her not only threatened his long-range objectives, but revealed itself for what it was. Another manifestation of hurt. She had hurt him-or so it looked-and childishly he was rejecting her attempts at atonement.
    She might think that, anyway, and he couldn't let her. So he had written her casually that gift-giving had been over-commercialized, and that they should stick to token remembrances from then on. If she wanted to donate to charity in his name, fine. Boys' Town would be appropriate. He, of course, would make a donation in her name.
    Say to some institution for Wayward Women
    Well, but that is getting ahead of the story, skipping over its principal element.
    New York is a two-hour ride from Baltimore. At seventeen going on eighteen, Roy went there, the logical objective of a young man whose only assets were good looks and an inherent yen for the fast dollar.
    Needing to earn-and to be paid-immediately, he took work selling on a flat commission. Door-to-door stuff. Magazines, photo coupons, cooking utensils, vacuum cleaners-anything that looked promising. All of it promised much and gave little.
    Perhaps Miles of Michigan had made $1,380 his first month by showing Super Suitings to his friends, and perhaps O'Hara of Oklahoma earned ninety dollars a day by taking orders for the Oopsy Doodle Baby Walker. But Roy doubted it like hell. By literally knocking himself out, he made as high as $125 in one week. But that was his very best week. The average was between seventy-five and eighty dollars, and he had to hump to get that.
    Still it was better than working as a messenger, or taking some small clerical job which promised "Good Opportunity" and "Possibility To Advance" in lieu of an attractive wage. Promises were cheap. Suppose he went to one of those places and promised to be president some day; so how about a little advance?
    The selling was no good, but he knew of nothing else. He was very irked with himself. Here he was nineteen going on twenty, and already a proven failure. What was wrong with him, anyway? What had Lilly had that he didn't have?
    Then, he stumbled onto the twenties.
    It was a fluke. The chump, the proprietor of a cigar store, had really pulled it on himself. Preoccupied, Roy had continued to fumble for a coin after receiving the change from the bill, and the fidgety storekeeper, delayed in waiting on other customers, had suddenly lost patience.
    "For Pete's sake, mister!" he snapped. "It's only a nickel! Just pay me the next time you're in."
    Then, he threw back the twenty, and Roy was a block away before he realized what had happened.
    On the heels of the realization came another: an ambitious young man did not wait for such happy accidents. He created them. And he forthwith started to do so.
    He was coldly told off at two places. At three others, it was pointed out-more or less politely-that he was not entitled to the return of his twenty. At the remaining three, he collected.
    He was exuberant at his good luck. (And he had been exceptionally lucky.) He wondered if there were any gimmicks similar to the twenties, ways of picking up as much money in a few hours as a fool made in a week.
    There were. He was introduced to them that night in a bar, whence he had gone to celebrate.
    A customer sat down next to him, jostling his elbow. A little of his drink was spilled, and the man apologetically insisted on buying him a fresh one. Then he bought still another round. At this point, of course, Roy wanted to buy a round. But the man's attention had been diverted. He was peering down at the floor, then reaching down and picking up a dice cube which he laid on the bar.
    "Did you drop this, pal? No? Well, look. I don't like to drink so fast, but if you want to roll me for a round- just to keep