“Each,” X-Ray repeated.
“She’s got a nice voice,” said Armpit. “Kind of sassy, and playful, you know? You can always tell it’s her.”
X-Ray looked at him like he was crazy. “I don’t want a critique! I want six hundred dollars.” He spoke as if to somebody else. “He gives me a critique. Now he’s a critic.”
“Well, if I didn’t think she could sing, I wouldn’t give you six hundred dollars.”
“So you’re going to give me the money?”
He was considering it.
“See, here’s the deal,” X-Ray explained. “They only let you buy six tickets. So together we can buy twelve. Six hundred and sixty dollars. I’ve already got sixty, so I just need the rest from you. You won’t have to do a thing. I’ll do all the work. Then we’ll split the profits.”
Armpit slowly exhaled. “Six hundred dollars,” he said.
“You’ll make that back on one ticket,” said X-Ray.
“No one’s going to pay six hundred dollars for a ticket.”
“They paid seven hundred and fifty in Philadelphia.”
Armpit picked up his shovel and began filling in the dirt around the pipe.
“Okay, let’s say we only sell the tickets for two hundred,” said X-Ray. “After three tickets you get your money back. I won’t get any of that. Then I get my sixty back out of the next ticket, and we split the rest right down the middle. So really there’s no risk to you at all. You know we can sell three tickets.”
Armpit replaced the sod, stomping it down with his boot.
“Think of it this way. It’s like someone is offering to pay you to stand in line for him. What if your boss says to you, he says, ‘Armpit, instead of digging today, I want you to stand in line for me, and I’ll pay you a thousand bucks to do it.’ Wouldn’t you do it?”
“Of course.”
“Same thing!” X-Ray said. “Some dudes are going to pay us a thousand bucks to stand in line for them. We just don’t know who they are yet. See, you got to think outside the box.”
A siren blared over the radio.
“Oh! Oh!” X-Ray exclaimed as he fumbled for the cell phone attached to his belt.
The siren noise had been made by an electric guitar, which slowly wound down and transformed into a flurry of notes and chords. It was the intro to Kaira DeLeon’s biggest hit.
I hear a w-w-warning sound
Every time you c-c-come around.
Should you ch-chance to glance at me,
Threatens my security.
“C’mon, c’mon,” X-Ray said into his phone.
Red Alert!
My hands are sh-sh-shakin’.
Red Alert!
Stomach’s achin’.
Red Alert!