The Dream Merchants by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online Page A

heard Peter say to those waiting. “We’re all filled up, but if you’ll wait you all will get in.”
    He heard a good-natured murmur of disappointment come from the crowd, but very few left; most of them settled down for a wait. And those that left were more than made up for by new arrivals. Gradually a line began to form that went down the street.
    Peter stuck his head inside the door, “All right, Johnny,” he shouted. “Start the show.”
    The audience started to applaud as the lights in the store went off; then suddenly there was silence as the first picture began to flash on the screen.
    Peter had lit a cigar as George walked up to him.
    “Hallo, Mr. Kessler.”
    “Hello, George, how are you?” Peter replied expansively, puffing at his cigar.
    “Prooty good, Mr. Kessler,” George said politely. He looked around him. “Lots of poopuls you got come here.”
    Peter smiled. “We certainly have, George. Everybody wants to see the moving pictures. Did you see them yet?”
    George nodded his head.
    “It’s the coming thing,” Peter said.
    “Mr. Kessler, I think so, too,” George assured him. “You got good mind for what poopuls want.”
    Peter beamed at the compliment. “Thanks, George.” He reached into his vest pocket. “Here, George, have a cigar.”
    George took it gravely. Although he didn’t like cigars and couldn’t stand smoking at all, he held it expertly to his nose and smelled it. “Good cigar,” he said.
    “I have ’em sent special from New York,” Peter told him. “They’re six cents apiece.”
    “If it’s all right with you, Mr. Kessler,” George said, putting the cigar carefully in his pocket, “I will smoke him after dinner to enjoy him better.”
    Peter nodded, his attention already wandering, his eyes on the crowd.
    George sensed his inattentiveness, but he didn’t know just how to broach what he wanted to say. At last he blurted it out. “Mr. Kessler, I would like for to open a ice-cream parlor here.”
    Peter’s attention came back to George with a snap. “An ice-cream parlor here?” he queried. “What for?”
    George was embarrassed. His face turned red. His inadequate English became even more unintelligible. “These poopuls,” he stammered, “good for business. Ice cream, candies, fruits, nuts.”
    Peter stopped smiling; he suddenly understood what George meant. His voice became serious. “It’s a good idea, George, but where can we put it? There isn’t enough room.”
    Magically George found the words for what he wanted to say. He spoke quickly, easily. He explained to Peter how little room they would need for it. But what clinched the argument was his offer to pay rent plus a share of the profits.
    ***
    While business at the nickelodeon was good, it was not without its problems. Under Peter’s agreement with Graphic he was given a new show every three weeks. This was all right until they had begun giving three shows a day. Then it seemed that the first week of the show everybody in the section would see it and business would fall off greatly in the following two weeks. He had spoken to Johnny about it and they had agreed to ask Joe Turner on his next trip up if there was anything that could be done about it.
    About two weeks after George had opened his little stand, Joe came up on his regular monthly visit. He stood in the small lobby watching George and his brother move busily behind the counter. After a while he went into the nickelodeon and spoke to Johnny.
    The afternoon show had just finished and Johnny was rewinding the film for the next show.
    “Whose idea was that?” Joe asked him.
    “Peter’s,” Johnny answered. “What do you think of it?”
    Joe nodded his head approvingly. “It’s a good ’un,” he said. “Makes me feel the idea will catch on in town when I tell ’em about it.”
    Johnny finished rewinding and set the reel in place so that it would be ready to run off for the next show. He clambered down from the little platform on