"they'll gyp you if they can and roll you if they can't."

epub or mobi, with thanks to the original sharer

voices and laughter and the strident selling spieling grinding over p.a. systems and the crack of rifles in the shooting gallery and singing yelling shuffling, the thud of baseballs and the soft ratchets of fortune wheels and the bass drum call to bally, try your luck, mister, pitch till you win, the big show just about to start, a few seats left, three balls for a dime, see the strangest people on earth, win a kewpie doll for the little woman, get 'em while they're hot, pick your lucky number, and inside the little lady will show you, hurry, hurry, win an Armour ham, see the alligator boy, this is the show you came to see, naked and unadorned, every number wins a prize, the show's about to start, step right up, try your luck ...

 

Like many hedonistic and highly sexed men, he basically disliked women. He liked to use their bodies but had only contempt for them otherwise. Sleep with one, yes. Live with one, never. So much simpler when one could afford it, as he'd been able to do although not as often as he liked for several years now, just to pay a woman for the use of her body than to go through the boring motions of being nice to one so you could talk her into bed for free. And, if he wanted a rematch, having to try to please her as well as himself; that took two-thirds of the pleasure away. Above all, he hated sentiment, hated to pretend to feel it when he didn't, hated too the very thought that a woman might ever feel sentimental toward him. Sentiment was a lot of crap and the only way to avoid even the pretense of it was to pay for what you got, right down the line.
Naturally, he thought of Trixie Connor.