Never Love a Stranger Read Online Free Page A

said.
    I looked at it and then at Fennelli and without saying a word started towards the door. A porter had started to mop the floor where the polish had spilled. As I went out I heard the other guy say: “Fifty will get you a hundred he won’t be back, Silk.”
    Silk Fennelli laughed. “You’re on.”
    “I don’t think he ever saw that much money in his whole life,” the dame said. “You’re probably right at that,” said Silk. “I didn’t either when I was his age.”
    I didn’t hear what they said to that because I was out the door by that time. When I got back they were eating. I placed the change on the table and said: “I didn’t mean to keep ya waiting, but the store man didn’t have change of a fiver and I had to run all over the block to get it.”
    I knelt down on the floor and began to shine his shoes.
    The other man took out his wallet and peeled off some dough and gave it to Fennelli. Silk put it in his pocket without counting it. “This ought to teach you, you can’t beat the expert.”
    I was through with one shoe and I tapped his foot. He put the other foot on the box. “What’s your name, son?” he asked.
    “Francis Kane,” I said. “But you call me Frankie. All my friends call me Frankie.”
    “Oh, so I’m your friend, am I? Better be careful, son; friendship is not a thing to so lightly bestow. Don’t be careless with it,” he said.
    “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” I said, growing confused. “You’re O.K. with me.” I finished the shine and got up.
    The other man and woman stood up. “Well, we have to be going, Silk. See you later.” Silk got to his feet. “So long,” he said to them.
    When they had left I asked him: “Did you collect, Mr. Fennelli?” “What do you mean?”
    “I mean the bet. I heard it. Did he pay off?”
    Silk Fennelli laughed. “You heard it.”
    “Yeah,” I said, “I’m no sap. I know what the score is.”
    Fennelli laughed again. “Sit down,” he said, “and have a sandwich. Where do you come from?”
    “St. Thérèse Orphanage,” I said.
    “Okay, so you know the score,” he said to me as if I were an equal. “You look familiar to me. Where’d I see you before? At one of the playshops?”
    He referred to the stores he had converted into little playgrounds in our section. Everybody said it was a great thing he was doing for the children of the neighbourhood, keeping them off the streets. I heard Keough say it was more than that; it was Fennelli’s way to educate his customers. In them were all kinds of games that kids played for free— games of skill and chance that outside cost a nickel to a quarter to play. After the kids were a certain age they were not allowed in the playshops and would go elsewhere to play the games and pay for them. Oh, yes, Fennelli was a big shot, he even sent his customers to school. But as most people would say, someone has to be in that business and he really deserves the breaks for he’s a regular guy.
    “Nope,” I answered. “I work over at Jimmy Keough’s.”
    The waiter came up at a signal from Fennelli. I ordered a roast-beef sandwich and a glass of beer.
    “You’re too young to be drinking beer,” Fennelli said. He changed the order to cream soda.
    He watched me eat. I ate quickly and in a few minutes I was through. Then I got up. “Thanks, Mr. Fennelli.”
    He smiled at me. “It’s O.K., kid, I shined shoes once, same as you.” He reached in his pocket and came out with a few bills folded over in his hand. “Here,” he said, “take this and beat it.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said, and when I saw it was five bills, “Thanks again.” These guys liked you to voice your thanks. It made them feel good, it didn’t cost you anything, and I knew this guy was worth the effort of being nice to. So, just for luck, I thanked him once more and walked out of the saloon.
    Ray Callahan was standing on the corner, his shine box at his feet. I walked up to him. Ray was a nice kid. His old