Dreams Die First by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online Page A

yet.”
    She smiled suddenly. “That’s honest,” she said approvingly. “And honesty puts you on the fifth plane automatically.” She went to the door and looked back at me. “Wait for me,” she said. “I’ll be back next month on my birthday.”

CHAPTER 8
    “The distributors want to see a mock-up before they even talk to me,” Persky said. “And they said if you don’t come up with good pictures, not to bother coming in.”
    “What do they mean, good pictures?” I asked.
    “Girls,” he said flatly. “Tits and ass they already got. They want cunt pictures.”
    “Did you tell them about the editorial policy?”
    “They don’t give a damn. Words is something they read after they buy the paper. Pictures is what grabs them.”
    “Okay, we’ll get pictures then.”
    “It ain’t that easy. The agencies and the photographers will break you. We can’t compete for the exclusives. We haven’t that kind of bread.”
    “Then we’ll shoot our own.”
    “You know some photographers?” he asked.
    “We’ll find them. Meanwhile, get in touch with the movie studios. I want to get on their press lists. They’re always sending out pictures of starlets.”
    “That’s not the kind of pictures they’re talking about.”
    “I know, but it’s a beginning. There may be some we can use.”
    “I got an idea,” he said.
    He went to his desk and returned with his attaché case. He took out some small magazines and spread them on the desk.
    The titles blew my mind.
Anal Sex
,
Oral Sex
,
Lesbian Love
,
Fuck Party
. I picked up one and riffled through the pages. It was exactly what the title said it was. “Where’d you get these?”
    “From Ronzi Distributors. They got them under the counters all over town at five bucks a pop. They got a proposition for us. We give them an exclusive distribution deal and they’ll look the other way if we lift a few pictures. Of course, we’ll have to crop them carefully so that nobody can trace them.”
    “We’d be off the stands in a minute if we printed pictures like these.”
    “We crop them to show only the girls.”
    “Who’s behind Ronzi?” I asked.
    He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Some guys from back East, I hear.”
    “Mafia?”
    “Like I said, I don’t know.”
    “What else do they want besides exclusive?”
    “We didn’t go into that.”
    “Set up a meeting, I’d like to talk to them.”
    “Sure. I’ll get right on….” His voice trailed off and I followed his gaze out the front door.
    A black Mercedes stretch-out 600 limousine was rolling to a stop. A uniformed chauffeur leaped out and opened the rear door.
    I immediately recognized the man who got out of the car. I had seen him often on television. What I hadn’t realized was how large he was in person. Over six-four and with shoulders so broad that he had to turn sideways to come through the doorway.
    The kids stopped working. Their voices were filled with hushed respect. “Peace and love, Reverend Sam.”
    He held up a benevolent hand. “God is love, my children,” he rumbled with a warm smile.
    “God is love,” they answered in unison.
    He came through the store toward my desk. I rose to my feet as he approached, making everything in the store look dwarfed beside him. “Mr. Brendan?”
    “Yes, Reverend Sam.”
    He held out a hand. “God is love. It’s a pleasure to meet you, boy.”
    I took his hand and felt not only his tremendous strength but a flow of energy that seemed electrically charged. “My pleasure, sir. What can I do for you?”
    He glanced sideways at Persky. “Is there some place we can talk privately?”
    “Of course. Follow me.” I led him up the back stairs to the apartment and closed the door behind us. “This okay?”
    He nodded. I waved him to a chair at the small kitchen table. “Care for coffee or something?”
    “No, thank you.” His eyes were appraising. “I came to thank you in person.”
    “For what?”
    “My son, Bobby,” he answered.