Annie arrived at the Greek’s a few minutes before Jake. The restaurant was full. A number of men leaned on the bar watching a girl in high heels play the ski-ball machine. The Greek moved lightly about the room, a soiled white cloth tied around his enormous belly. Two waitresses with ferret faces and dyed yellow hair carried plates ranged along their arms and slammed them down before their customers.

Jake looked eager and happy as though he’d had good news. He slid into the chair across from her. “How’s the working girl?” he asked and grabbed her hand and pressed it. He was very sweet, fresh as clover, yet his question angered her. She couldn’t bring herself to answer him. Instead, she read the food-spotted menu. “Hey?” he asked.

“It was terrible,” she said. “I spent the whole day, nearly, in a cellar that must run under the whole town. These poor people buy dresses for a dollar ninety-nine. If you washed them, they’d melt. The store has going-out-of-business sales, but they’re never going to go out of business, not from what I saw in the basement. I took twenty-five minutes for lunch and you’re only supposed to have fifteen. When I came back the manager asked me if I thought I was doing them a favor, ‘lending your presence to our little emporium,’ he said, and didn’t I know the Depression wasn’t over, and how many places would hire someone he doubted even knew the name of the capital of the state. I’m supposed to have the stock organized in a week. After that, I expect, they’ll kill me. The last stock girl, somebody told me, stole four dresses and wore them all out of the store. She must have been in a bad way—to steal that stuff.”

“Well, stay there a few weeks. You can get another job, you know.”

She hadn’t even thought of that.

“It’s always easier to get a job when you have one, I don’t know why.”

“I don’t know why I think I can never get out of things,” she said, defeatedly. “There’s something so dumb about it. You’re right. I’ll find another job.” Her spirits rose. The Greek’s seemed a cheerful place to be.

“Well, I got that job,” he said. “You must bring me luck. It’s nothing much, but it’s something. Maybe some big director will spot me behind all the midgets. Listen, why don’t you get that writer friend of yours to help you get a screen test?”

“Not me.”

“Okay,” said one of the waitresses impatiently. “Let’s have it. You want the special, shrimp cocktail and steak?”

“Could I have a sandwich?” Annie asked, smiling placatingly up at the girl.

“Looka the menu,” she said.

“Have a real dinner,” Jake offered. “I’ve got money.”