The News
d. watt
“Paper, sir?”
“No.”
Next one. “Paper, sir?”
“What paper you got?”
“Daily News.”
“That’s not a newspaper ' that’s bullcrap. Get outta here with that bullcrap.”
He moved away to the next guy. “Paper, sir?”
Without looking at Danny, the man picked up a beer-wet dollar from the bar and handed it to the boy. He folded the paper that was given to him, but didn’t seem to know what to do with it after that.
“Sir? Your change?” Danny held it out to him.
The man looked up as if surprised to see the boy standing there. He squinted a moment then said, “Keep it.”
“Thank you, sir! Thanks a lot!”
The next one was four stools down. “Paper, sir?”
No answer.
Again, a little louder. “Paper, sir?”
The bent man glanced over his shoulder, looking for the voice. His death-mask face frightened the boy.
“Paper, sir?” Danny asked again, gentler this time, so he didn’t offend. He thought he had his attention but he didn’t.
Next one. “Paper, sir?”
The man turned right around. Big smile breaking across his face when he saw Danny.
“Hey, kiddo, what’s up? How you doing?”
“Fine, thank you.” His Mom taught him to say that. Even if he didn’t mean it.
“Whatcha doin’ in here, a little guy like you?”
Danny held up the papers.
“The Daily News, huh? How much?”
This one wanted entertaining. It didn’t take too many rounds of the bar to figure them out. Some just grumped or waved him away. That was okay. The guys who ignored him pissed him off cause he asked them three or four times and they never answered. But the ones that thought he was “cute” and wanted to talk to him, because they were bored, wasted his time.
“Fifty cents.”
“Fifty!” Exaggerated surprise. “I thought they were only thirty-five.”
“I have to make a profit.” How many times did he go through this?
“Don’t you get them cut-rate?”
“What’s that?”
“You know ' a discount off the cover price?”
He knew what discount meant: cheap. His Mom was always dragging him to discount stores, looking for bargains. Like the clothes she bought him. Sometimes he was embarrassed to wear them. That is, if he wasn’t already wearing patched-up hand-me-downs from his big brother. But Dad said they couldn’t afford anything new for him.
“Nope.”
“You mean the guy you get these from charges you full price?”
“Yep.” He wanted away. “Would you like one, sir?” The question was pointed.
The man took a fifty dollar bill from his wallet and grinned like he was pulling some fabulous trick.
I can’t change that, Danny thought. The ass-hole. He’s giving me a hard time, this one is.
“Can’t break it?” the man asked with a huge grin. “Well, here ' try this.” He picked two quarters off the bar in front of him and gave them to the boy. “Take your girlfriend out to dinner tonight,” he laughed.
Danny handed him a paper and was glad to get away. And no tip after all that.
“What do you say?” the voice trailed after him.
“Thank you.”
“That’s right. Mind your manners. Someday you’ll get rich doing this.”
Not from ass-holes like you, Danny thought.
He escaped to the other side of the horseshoe bar to hit the booths and tables, but only two were occupied. At one of them two old men sat. He could tell they weren’t drinking like the rest ' just sitting there passing the time. But sometimes old men were good tippers.
“Paper, sirs?” he asked, looking at the closer of the two. The old man sat up, a bit befuddled, as though he didn’t know quite what he was supposed to say. His eyes pleaded to his friend to rescue him.
The other man cleared his throat. In a crisp voice he said, as though he’d rehearsed the line many times. “No, thank you, young man. Would you like one, John?”
John followed his lead and shook his head. Danny looked down, a little disappointed. He thought for sure'-
“But here,” the man named John said, handing him two quarters. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” The two old men chuckled to each other.
“Yes, sir. Thanks a lot!” He looked at the coins in disbelief. Fifty cents for nothing! “Thanks a lot!” he said again.
He was so happy he headed for the door, forgetting to ask the other table. They were a fat couple anyway, just slouched at each other over their beers like bookless bookends, They weren’t even talking. But as Danny passed by, the man raised his hand to halt him.
“Paper, sir?” The response was automatic.
“You got the four-star race results?”
Danny looked at the upper right-hand corner. Only the twostar. “Nope, just this,” he held it up.
“That’s no good,” the man scowled, “it’s only got the first two races.”
“Sorry.” The way the man said it, Danny felt like it was his fault or something. He looked at the woman for sympathy, but she just stared at him blankly, moving nothing but her eyes to follow him.
He pushed his way out the screen door, letting it bang behind him. Which made him jump, cause the bartender yelled at him before for doing that. He looked back to see the sign “Bathers Welcome” swinging back and forth.
He breathed in the sky blue salt sunshine air. Already he’d made his quota for the day, and now he could go to the beach.
He felt momentarily victorious over the world.
Ahead he saw a Daily News box. A new one. In front of the motel he always avoided cause the woman who ran it yelled at him for selling papers around her pool. But it didn’t look like she was around.
He still had three bars to go and only had three papers left, so he dropped two quarters in the slot and grabbed ten papers out of the box. So what if it was stealing? All the other paper boys did it.
He was so happy ' he figured with all this money he’d have a bigger bank deposit than his older brother Mickey, who wasted his money on “crap” as Dad called it. But he figured he better not tell him Mom he was selling in the bars ' she wouldn’t like that. Probably cause Dad was getting drunk all the time again.
When Danny’d finished all the bars and quit for the day he’d sold eleven more, the three he had left plus eight from the ten out of the box. A great day. Just before he turned onto his street he tossed the rest in a trash can. Then he took off his change apron, even though he was only a block away, cause it felt goofy on if he didn’t have any papers under his arm. Like it was a skirt or something.
The old blue station wagon stood silently out front, so Dad must be home. Maybe he won’t be drunk this time, since he just got here, and’ll tell Mickey how better I’m doing than he is, he hoped.
Before he reached the house he felt something wrong. As if it was more silent than it should be. From the porch he heard her sob and ran in fast. His Mom was on the couch, her face in her apron. Mickey stood in front of her, looking dazed.
“What -”
Mickey tried to quiet him with a look, but his Mom heard him and looked up. She bellowed out, “Your father’s run away again but this time he’s not coming back.” She paused, then in a shrill shriek, “Never! You hear me? He’ll never set foot in this house again!”
The boys backed off, afraid. She was never this mad before.
Suddenly Danny felt his pocket for his rolled up change apron, as if that was what he’d just lost.
