Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [217]
Instead Willie questioned her about herself. She was singing at a Fifty-second Street club, her first job in several weeks. Her father had been ill for half a year, and the fruit store, managed by her mother alone, was earning nothing. May was supporting the family. She had taken a room in a downtown hotel because she feared the long subway rides at night would give her pneumonia. “I’m kind of run down, Willie. School and night-club singing don’t mix too well, after all. Sleep generally gets lost in the shuffle. I pass out on subways, in classes-it’s awful.”
“Are you giving up school?”
“No, no. I cut a lot of classes, that’s all. I don’t care. I don’t want to be a Phi Bete. I just want to pick up some information. Let’s talk French. I can talk French. Avez-vous le crayon de ma tante?”
She laughed. Her eyes seemed wild to Willie, and her expression was opaque. May drank off her coffee. “I’ve found out two things about my singing, Willie. First of all I haven’t much talent-I really know that now-and secondly most of the other girl singers have even less. I can always scratch a living-until I become a hag, that is. Which, at the rate I’m going, will be next Tuesday. I’ll tell you what. Let’s go up to my room. I can lie down while we talk. I still have to sing tonight. Did I tell you that you are three times as good-looking as you used ,to be? You look more like a wolf than a bunny, now.”
“You seemed to like the bunny-”
“Well, a wolf-like bunny is more nearly right. I think I’m a little loopy, dear. A martini before the first meal of the day is not a good idea. I must remember that. Let’s go.”
In the taxicab she suddenly kissed him on the mouth. He smelled the gin. “Do I utterly disgust you?” she said.
“What kind of question-”
“Sick, tacky-look at this dress, of all dresses I had to put on this thing-mixed up with crummy musicians in a crummy studio-we are star-crossed lovers, Willie. See, I told you I’d learn to read and write. Star-crossed lovers. Come, gentle night, give me my Willie. And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in lit-tle stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night. Did you think I was living with Marty Rubin, dear, by any chance?”
Willie’s face flushed. “All this on one martini?”
“And a temperature of, I would say; 101.8. We’ll take it when we get home, just to check. Really, though, I don’t call that very good luck. You telephone me after coming halfway round the world and a man answers. Star-crossed wires. If Shakespeare answers, hang up.”
The taxi swerved sharply around a comer and she leaned against him. The smell of her hair was the same; sweet exciting. His arm tightened around her. Her body was thinner than he remembered. She said, “Darling, tell all the little lieutenants on the Caine never to surprise their girls. Tell them to give their girls plenty, plenty of warning, so that they can get the men out of their apartments, and rest up for a week, and go to a beauty parlor, and work over all their little stupid bags of tricks. I am terribly impressed by your battle stars, Willie. You were never hurt, were you, sweet?”
“Not even close-”
“Do you know something? I have a slave. Real slave. Name of Marty Rubin. He has never heard of the Emancipation - Proclamation. See the advantage of a college education) Promise me you won’t tell him that Lincoln freed the slaves. Uncle Tom Rubin. I think I’d be dead if not for him, or have a couple of parents in the poorhouse, anyway. Wow! Home so soon?”
Her apartment was a wretched little room on a dark areaway. The bedcover, the rug, the chairs were worn to the gray threads, and paint hung in patches on the ceiling. She closed the door and kissed him passionately. “You’re as big as a bear in that coat. Not bad for three dollars, this room, is it? Special favor to Marty that they let me have it. Sorry, there’s no bathroom. Down the hall. Well, first of all, let’s see about the good old temperature. Maybe I don’t have to get into bed. Here, read my book of fame.”
She watched him drolly,