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

“You did something I’ve never been able to do: You straightened him out.”
    I looked puzzled and he chuckled. “In some ways, I mean.”
    I laughed. “I don’t want you giving me too much credit.”
    He was still smiling. “For the first time in his life somebody got him to work.”
    “Maybe nobody ever offered him a job before.”
    “I offered many times. But he wasn’t interested.”
    “You’re his father,” I said. “As far as he was concerned, that didn’t count.”
    “Maybe that’s it. Anyway he’s a different person now. He’s not just drifting anymore.”
    I was silent. I had nothing more to say about Bobby. But I could tell that he wasn’t finished.
    “You know Bobby’s homosexual?”
    I nodded.
    “Are you?”
    I smiled. “I don’t think so.”
    “You’re not sure?”
    I shrugged. “There was a time when I was sure of everything. Now I know better.”
    He glanced around the small apartment. “You live here?”
    “I will after Bobby gets through fixing it up. Right now he’s scouring the secondhand stores for furniture.”
    “He tells me that you will need advertising to stay in business.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Do you have any now?”
    “I’m guaranteed four pages an issue.”
    “Could you use more?”
    “Of course.”
    “My church advertises regularly in the papers and on radio and television. I can take some space and ask businessmen in my congregation to do the same.”
    “I’d appreciate that,” I said. “But wouldn’t it be better if you see the kind of paper we put out first?”
    “You object to religious advertising?”
    “No. But you might not like what we do.”
    “Bobby already told me. You’re going to print pictures of naked women and write about sex and drugs. I have no objections to that. It’s part of life. I’m a preacher, not a saint or a moralist. I want to help people find themselves and lead happy lives. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do in your own way?”
    “I used to. But the ideals are gone. Now all I want to do is make a lot of money.”
    “Nothing the matter with that either.” He chuckled deep in his throat. “I’ve managed to do pretty well combining the two.”
    He didn’t have to tell me how successful he’d been. I had heard how the money poured in.
    “I’d like to buy a piece of your paper,” he said.
    “Sorry, I made a rule when I went into this. No partners.”
    His eyes were shrewd. “I hear Lonergan has a piece.”
    “You heard wrong. He has a contract guaranteeing four pages of advertising an issue, which he subcontracts out of his advertising agency. He has nothing to do with the ownership or the running of the paper.”
    “That’s smart of him.” By the way he said it, I knew he had figured out Lonergan’s interest.
    “We should be getting out our first issue in two three weeks. Why don’t you look at it and then let me know what you want to do?”
    “I already know what I want to do. How much for a full page?”
    “I don’t know yet. We haven’t worked out a rate sheet.”
    “How much is Lonergan guaranteeing you a page?”
    “Eight hundred.”
    “You think that’s fair?”
    I nodded.
    “I’ll take one page a week for a year,” he said. He reached into his pocket, came out with a roll of money and began counting thousand-dollar bills onto the table.
    When he got to forty, he pushed the pile of bills toward me. “I think buying a year in advance entitles me to two weeks free.”
    “You’re entitled to more than that.”
    “I’m satisfied.”
    “You don’t have to pay in advance. What if the paper doesn’t last a year?”
    He smiled. “That advance should increase your odds on staying in business. You can use the money to put out a better paper.”
    “There are still no guarantees.”
    He got to his feet. “Then I’ll play the devil. I’ll deal for your soul. If you fold before the year is out, you can come to one of my services and consider the bill paid.”

CHAPTER 9
    Ronzi