Molly's Game Page #3

They need you to

buy five bottles.

So these girls over here,

they let you buy them

shots for a living.

It would be like waiting in a

long line to get into the Gap

so you can pay a 1,000

percent mark-up

to buy all the employees

a pair of pants.

I only had one shift a week.

I didn't want to tell my parents

I was a cocktail waitress.

And back then, I

never turned down

an opportunity to

make more money.

So I found a second job

as an office assistant

and that's how I ended up

working for Dean Keith.

Dean was a partner in

Blackhues Investments.

He was a regular at the club

and one night, he said,

People seem to take to you.

Hey, how'd you like to get

paid to go to grad school

and get an MBA in

how life works?

What makes you think

you know and I don't?

I'm a regular here

and you're a waitress here.

Look at the f***in' scoreboard.

Dean explained what

my job was by saying,

Me. I'm your job.

I answered the phone, made

coffee runs, set appointments,

-made spreadsheets.

-What is that?

and showed Dean what

a spreadsheet was.

Spreadsheet.

But I made $450

a week on top of

the $300 I was

making at the club,

which would be enough to

get off my friend's couch.

I remember the day started

by being about bagels.

-This is Molly.

-Get to the office. Pick up bagels.

Do you mean now?

Dean was a Hollywood staple.

Over-leveraged, going broke,

trying to prove he wasn't broke

and making a true effort

to be as vulgar as possible.

Honestly making an effort.

I hadn't told anyone

I was a skier

and it was hard not to

laugh when Dean said...

Anyone ever teach you

how to f***in' hurry?

No.

-What are those?

-Bagels.

-Are these from Bluebell?

-Yeah.

-It's on the way from my house.

-Seriously?

You might as well have stopped

at a f***in' homeless shelter.

You might as well

have walked into

a motherfucking homeless

shelter and said,

"I'd like a dozen bagels from

this homeless shelter, please!"

I do not eat bagels from

Blue f***ing bell, Molly,

because these are

poor people bagels!

From where would you like me to

get your bagels in the future?

Forget about the f***in' bagels.

-Done.

-Except smarten up.

-Got it.

-Hang on.

Like I said, the day started

by being about bagels.

But that would abruptly change.

My weekly poker game's

moved to the Cobra Lounge.

Tomorrow night and then

every Tuesday night.

You'll help run it.

Take these names

and numbers.

Tell 'em to bring 10 grand in

cash for the first buy-in,

the blinds are 50-100.

-And Molly.

-Yeah?

Don't f***in' tell anybody.

I'd regarded Dean as a nitwit

when I regarded him at all.

But on that pad were nine names

along with phone numbers

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