Young Whit and the Cloth of Contention by Dave Arnold & Phil Lollar

Author:Dave Arnold & Phil Lollar [Arnold, Dave & Lollar, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Readers / Chapter Books, JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian / Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781684285037
Publisher: Focus on the Family
Published: 2023-08-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Wilson went pale. “W-w-whadaya mean you’re no longer an act? I booked you!”

“Yes,” said Mr. Smithson, “I was wondering how that happened. Where did you find us?”

“In a booking catalog! Um . . . the . . . The Imp—something!”

“The Impresario?”

“That’s it!”

“Did you happen to notice the date on the catalog?”

“Date?” Wilson gulped. “No, I just saw your ad!”

Mr. Smithson smiled benignly. “We were in many catalogs at the height of our fame. When we broke up the act, I instructed our agency to contact them all and remove our booking information. It seems The Impresario is one they missed.”

“But we paid half your fee up front!”

“That’s why I came, to return my portion of the money.”

“Your portion?” Johnny asked.

Mr. Smithson scratched his chin. “It’s a bit complicated. . . . You see, your payment went to our old agency. They handle many acts, and their policy is to extract their 10 percent representation fee and then send the balance to the artists. Apparently, your payment arrived at the agency’s accounts receivable department, and no one there bothered to see if we were still performing. They simply processed the payment. Half went to me, and half to my brother.”

“So where is your brother?” Johnny asked.

Mr. Smithson shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“What!” Wilson bellowed.

“Irving and I don’t exactly get along, which is why we no longer work together.”

Wilson looked confused. “Who’s Irving?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “He’s Drop! As in Coff & Drop?”

“Oh, yeah,” Wilson replied sheepishly, then barked, “So Drop just took off with our dough?”

Mr. Smithson sighed. “I’m afraid so.” He removed an envelope from his inside coat pocket. “I have the agency fee and my half here for you, but as for Drop’s half . . .”

“It’s gone,” Johnny said.

“Yes. I’m truly sorry.”

Wilson threw up his hands. “Never mind that! You’re supposed to perform this weekend! We’ve posted flyers all over town!”

“Yes, I see!” Mr. Smithson motioned toward the street.

“W-well, can’t you find your brother?” Wilson implored.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.” Mr. Smithson shook his head sadly. “He was a wonderful comedian once. I was the straight man. We had a great act.”

“What happened?” Johnny asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

Mr. Smithson frowned. “Let’s just say he had—has—a problem with self-control. Combine that with the fact that vaudeville has been slowly dying for some time now, and our breakup was inevitable.”

Wilson was finally speechless, standing with his mouth open. He physically wilted.

Johnny watched him and felt a strange sensation welling up inside, starting in his stomach and radiating out from there. It was an odd mixture of happiness—even glee—excitement, and satisfaction. It was all he could do to keep his face from breaking out in a wide grin, and everything inside him wanted to scream at Wilson, “I told you so!” But outwardly, he remained calm and stoic.

Mr. Smithson studied them both for a moment, then asked, “Does your father own this theatre?”

Johnny swallowed and took a breath. “Oh, no, sir. We’re not brothers! The Bijou is owned by Mr.

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