“The wall behind him was damp, unpleasant smells drifted up from the ground, and a rat crept past one of his boots. But he let none of that distract him. Just like a trick—the slightest hesitation or fumble would lead to disaster. But there won’t be any hesitations or fumbles, he told himself as he peered across the street. Drifting along it was a discordant twanging. Arthur, looking a bit nervous, was hesitantly strumming the ukulele just outside the Hotel Crosby. Harry had carefully chosen... him, not Billie, for the task, asking him to attempt one of Billie’s most complicated songs—a ballad about a cowboy trying to cross the Mississippi River—and knowing the results would be particularly awful. Billie was part of the plan as well, and by now she would have taken up her position. “You stop that din! You stop it now!” The doorman was shaking his fist. As they came down the marble steps, a few of the hotel’s guests were looking at the tweed-suited, ukulele-twanging boy, one lady even covering her ears, and the doorman had had enough.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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