Kells grinned. “Cut it out. You know damn well I’d never buck a house. I’m not a gambler, anyway — I’m a playboy. Stop by the hotel sometime and look at my cups.”
“I mean come and look the layout over.” Rose stood up and smiled carefully. “I’ve put in five new wheels and—”
“I’ve seen a wheel,” Kells said. “Make mine strawberry.” He turned, started toward the door.
Rose said: “I’ll give you a five-percent cut.”
Kells stopped, turned slowly, and came back to the table. “Cut on what?”
“The whole take, from now on.”
“What for?”
“Showing three or four times a week... Restoring confidence.”
Kells was watching him steadily. “Whose confidence, in what?”
“Aw, nuts. Let’s stop this god-damned foolishness and do some business.” Rose sat down, found a paper of matches and lighted his limp cigarette. “You’re supposed to be a good friend of Fay’s. Whether you are or not is none of my business. The point is that everyone thinks you are, and if you show on the boat once in a while it will look like everything is under control, like Fay and I have made a deal; see?”