Free The Predators by Harold Robbins

gave you a raise.”
    She looked at me. “He’s been talking to your girlfriend,” she said. “I know that she is graduating with a CPA certificate this month. I thought he might have said something about her taking over the books that I do. After all, I’m not a CPA.”
    “She’s never mentioned anything to me about it,” I said. “And I’m sure she would have said something. Besides, he wouldn’t be willing to pay CPA prices.”
    “I was just curious,” she said. “She’s been up to his office every morning this week. She always comes in about eleven o’clock.”
    I knew that Kitty had said that she could do Uncle Harry’s taxes. But she hadn’t told me that she was talking with Uncle Harry about it. I thought for a moment as I took care of the customers at the counter. I turned back to Fat Rita. “I’m sure that you don’t have anything to worry about. You know everything about his business.” Then I heard Buddy call back from the end of the counter.
    “Gimme a Pepsi and a pack of Luckys,” he called.
    I brought them over to him. “When did you come in? What’s going on with you?”
    He opened the pack of cigarettes, took one out, and lit up. He took a deep drag and a swig of Pepsi. “I’ve been fucked!”
    I stared at him. He looked down. I had never seen him upset like this. “What happened?”
    “The boss at the navy yard told me since the war had already begun he could not put any new people on.”
    “That seems crazy. With the war on wouldn’t they need more people than ever?” I said.
    “Right,” he said. “But they don’t want niggers.”
    “You check that out with your friends?” I asked.
    “That’s the first thing I did,” he answered. “But they had an answer. The wops control all of Brooklyn’s shipping yards, including the navy yards.”
    “Now what are you going to do?” I asked.
    He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll blow town. I’ve got no family keeping me here.”
    “They’ll track you down because of your draft card,” I said.
    “Not if I go to another town and change my name.” He smiled.
    “You’ll still need a draft card, won’t you?” I said.
    “Yeah, but that’s easy,” he said. “I can get any card anytime I want. Another draft card, even another driver’s license.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “There’s always some way that they can catch up with you.”
    “Yeah,” Buddy said as he nervously tapped his fingers on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to figure out another angle.”
    It was four-thirty now and the taxi drivers were starting on the new shift. There were two taxi garages down the block from us and we always got busy selling cigarettes and candy bars. A number of them asked for Harry, but I told them he would be out for a while; they said that they would come back later to see him.
    Fifteen minutes later the counter was empty. “Boy,” I said. “Things really died down.”
    “Word travels fast if Harry’s not here to take bets from the cabbies,” Buddy said.
    “It’s not like Harry to miss this time of the day. These are his big bettors.”
    The six o’clock rush hour started and Harry had not returned. Buddy and Fat Rita and José all helped me when we got busy.
    Fat Rita looked at her watch. “It’s almost seven,” she said. “This is my quitting time. I don’t know what to do. If I don’t go now I’ll miss my ride. And I’ll be too late to get dinner for the family.”
    “It’s your time,” I said. “Go on home.”
    “What should I do with the cash in the register?” she asked. “Harry always takes part of it to the night deposit at the bank.”
    “I’ll keep everything here,” I said. “It’ll still be here when he gets back.”
    I watched her waddle over to the subway entrance and go down the stairs. I turned to Buddy. “Where do you think he’s gone?”
    Buddy laughed. “He hates Hitler. Maybe he enlisted.”
    I laughed. “Not Harry. He may be Jewish