F Scott Fitzgerald

Tales of the Jazz Age F Scott Fitzgerald

At nine-thirty, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started for the Country Club inClark's Ford. "Jim," asked Clark casually, as they rattled through the jasmine-scented night,"how do you keep alive?"The Jelly-bean paused, considered."Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him some with the cars in theafternoon an' he gives it to me free. Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a littlethataway. I get fed up doin' that regular though.""That all?""Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the day-Saturdays usually-and thenthere's one main source of revenue I don't generally mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'mabout the champion crap-shooter of this town. They make me shoot from a cup nowbecause once I get the feel of a pair of dice they just roll for me."Clark grinned appreciatively,"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish you'd shoot with NancyLamar some day and take all her money away from her. She will roll 'em with the boys andshe loses more than her daddy can afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ringlast month to pay a debt."The Jelly-bean was noncommittal."The white house on Elm Street still belong to you?