Mike approached, all smiles. Keith pulled him over to an unoccupied corner of the room, near the bandstand. The DJ didn’t work Tuesday nights so the area was free of customers. “Since when do you ask my customers for money with a blatantly phony story?”
“Keith, it isn’t a phony story—”
“Not phony…right…telling Enzo Gray’s story and making it your own and asking for twenty-five thousand dollars isn’t phony.”
“How do you know it was Gray’s story?” Mike put his hand over his mouth.
“I know that you didn’t give Gray the insurance handbook and you told Enzo that Gray was engaged. What, was he competition, or too honest and sharp for you to keep around?” Keith pointed to Mike’s pants. “Empty your back pocket.”
“I don’t have to turn out my pockets for you.” Mike frowned and backed up.