The Way It Works Read Online Free Page B

information. All you have to do is sell. You follow me?”
    I nod. Seems simple enough.
    â€œAll right,” says Jonny. “Go ahead and dial that first number.”
    I dial. An old lady answers.
    â€œThis is Walter with Capital Investments,”
    I say, reading from the script. But the words run together in my head. I can’t think. I toss the script aside and speak from the heart.
    â€œCan I talk to you about your future?”
    â€œWell, I suppose so,” says the old lady on the other end.
    I don’t even remember what happens next. We talk for about five minutes. At the end of it I’ve promised her 30 percent returns in the next year. And she’s agreed to invest ten thousand dollars with Capital Investments.
    I hang up the phone. Jonny’s eyes are huge. He starts to clap.
    â€œLet’s hear it for Walter!” he shouts. “On the job five minutes, and already he brings in ten large! Give it up, boys!”
    The room breaks into applause. Guys I don’t know are standing up, yelling my name. It’s all pretty overwhelming. Jonny holds my hand up like I’ve just won a fight.
    â€œWalter,” says Jonny, “you just got yourself a job.”
    â€œThank you,” I say. “Thank you. Thank you.”
    I’m still saying thank you in my head an hour later, as I’m walking out of town. I’m headed for the impound lot, where my car is. If I can talk an old lady into investing ten thousand of her hard-earned dollars, I can talk some yahoo into letting me look inside my own car for five minutes.
    Which I do.
    I tear the car upside down. But the money isn’t there.
    â€œDid you go through my car?” I ask the guy behind the counter. He’s not the guy who towed me. He’s even greasier and hairier. Must be the owner , I think.
    â€œWe don’t go in the cars, man,” he says.
    â€œWhat do you think I am, a thief ?”
    â€œYou stole my dang car, didn’t you?”
    I say.
    â€œThe law is the law, my friend,” he says.
    â€œThat’s the way—”
    â€œI know, don’t tell me,” I say. “That’s the way it works.”
    I’ve got nothing else to do, so I head for the part of town where I got towed. I know it’s a long shot, but I have to check. It takes me an hour to walk there. I scan the ground for a wad of cash.
    Yeah, right. Like someone is going to leave something like that just laying there. If this is where I dropped it, it’s long gone.
    No use crying over spilled milk. I console myself by pretending a widow found my money. A widow with nine starving children. She needed the money worse than I did. That’s why this happened. It helps me feel a little better. But not much.
    I head back to the city. My watch tells me it’s going on six o’clock. The shelter opens at eight. I have two hours to kill. I walk slow, taking my time. It’s a nice night. The whole way, I think about Yolanda. How she looked last night, and how she smelled. How close I came to kissing her. If not for her dad in the doorway, that is.
    That’s all right. If I had a daughter, I’d be protective too. I kind of like old Parnell. You have to respect someone who protects the people he loves.
    I go to the bus station and change into jeans and a T-shirt. I put my suit away as carefully as possible. Then I go to the shelter to get in line. It’s easy to get a bed on warm nights like this. It’s harder in the middle of winter, when not getting a space means you could die.
    The shelter is hard to sleep in. The blankets and pillows smell terrible. There’s always someone raising a fuss. Crying, yelling, coughing, shouting. Always something. You learn to tune it out after a while.
    Besides, I have tomorrow to look forward to. My first day on the job.
    I won’t be homeless much longer.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    I ’m up bright and early for my first day at work. To tell the truth,