Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [19]
“I was very pleasant. I invited him to dinner-”
“The way you’d invite a dog to lie down by your chair.”
“I wanted to be alone with you because I love you and haven’t seen you for three weeks.”
“Three weeks and an afternoon.”
“All right.”
“Plus an extra hour.”
“I apologized for being late.”
“It would have been better, of course, for me to sit here by myself for an hour, looking as though I wanted to be picked up.
“May, I’m glad he was with you. I’m sorry I had to leave you. We’re together now. Let’s start from there.” He took her hand but she slipped it free.
“Possibly you don’t like Jews. Or Italians, either. They have a lot in common.”
“You really want to fight.”
“Yes!”
“What about? Not about Marty Rubin.”
“No. About us.” The girl’s fists were clenched in front of her on the table.
Willie’s heart ached, because she was so beautiful in the gray dress, with her dark red hair falling to her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you rather eat first?”
“I don’t want to eat.”
“Thank God. I couldn’t get down an olive myself. Let’s go to the Tahiti. One drink, then we fight.”
“Why there? If you think I’m sentimental about that place you’re wrong-”
“I said I’d meet my roommates there for a few minutes-”
“All right. I don’t care.”
But when they came to the Tahiti the check-room girl and Mr. Dennis and the musicians came flocking around to admire Willie’s uniform and joke about his romance with May. The thread of the quarrel was broken. They sat drinking glumly while the place filled with a noisy swelling crowd, mostly Army and Navy officers with their girls. Just before the ten o’clock floor show Roland Keefer came rolling through the smoke and din. His hair was disheveled, his paper collar wilted, his eyes bloodshot. He was towing a fat blonde of about thirty-five in a pink satin dress. Her features were not clearly visible through her make-up.
“Hey, Willie! H’ya, fella! How’s the old mainspring holding up tonight?”
He giggled happily and inspected May. Willie stood and introduced him. Keefer greeted May with respectful, suddenly sober politeness. “Hey, whaddya think of old horse-face Keggs?” He dropped back into hilarity. “Went to a concert, I swear he did. They give him a free ticket at the officers’ club. He wanted me to come. I said ‘Shinola on that!’ ” He pinched the blonde’s arm. “We make our own concert, hey, sweetie?”
“Don’t be fresh,” said the blonde. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friends?”
“This here is Tootsie Weaver, folks. Tootsie, this fella comes from Princeton.”
“How do you do,” said Tootsie, in her best Senior Prom manner.
“See you, folks,” said Keefer, dragging Tootsie off as she seemed settling herself to be sociable, “we got drinking to do.”
“Don’t forget,” called Willie, “five demerits for every minute you’re late after midnight.”
“Son, you talking to the human time clock,” shouted Keefer. “Bye-bye.”
“Keefer has odd tastes,” Willie said as he sat.
“Maybe he thinks you have,” said May. “Order me another drink.”
The floor show ran its usual course of comic master of ceremonies, girl singer, and knockabout comedy team in funny clothes. “With us tonight,” blared the master of ceremonies after the last act, “are two great entertainers who delighted audiences here at the Tahiti for many weeks last March. May Wynn, the lovely singer who just finished a triumphant run at the Krypton Room, and Willie Keith, who is now in the service of his country.” He pointed and clapped his hands. The pink spotlight swung to the couple. They rose reluctantly and the crowd applauded. When the servicemen saw May the handclapping became stronger. “Maybe we can induce this charming couple to give us a number. Don’t they look nice together, folks?”
“No, no,” said Willie, and May shook her head, but the applause grew.
“Mozart!” shouted the hat-check girl, and the audience, having no idea what the cry meant, took it up all the same. “Mozart! Mozart!” There was no escape. They walked to the piano.
May sang deliciously, with sweet sadness in her tones. There was something in the performance that hushed the customers,