From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [491]
“Yeah,” Warden said. “Fine day.”
“Such a fine day,” Stark said serenely, “that I feel like getting good and lousy drunk and beatin some loudmouth clean to death.”
“Stark, you’re a Texan,” Warden said. “Texans love their buddies, the State of Texas, and their mother. And they hate niggers, and Jews, and strangers, and immoral women—unless they happen to be screwing them.”
“Looks like we’re early,” Stark said. “Or else G Compny has dissolved its alliance with the Blue Chancre Bar & Grille.”
“I can see through you like glass,” Warden said. “Hey, Rose!”
As a matter of fact, they were early; they had left the CP at five minutes after nine, instead of ten o’clock with the rest of them. The only familiar face in the place was Rose’s boy friend the S/Sgt of Artillery, sitting in the same back booth as if he’d never left it, this time with three buddies.
“Get dlunk,” Charlie beamed. “Evelybody get dlunk. Fine day. This one on me, boys.” He nodded at them beaming sweatily and moved away down the bar he was trying to handle alone.
“Fine fella,” Stark said.
“Yeah. Great guy,” Warden said.
“You suppose he can afford to give away a drink?”
“No. I doubt it.”
“He needs more help behind the bar,” Stark said.
“He needs more help out in front, too,” Warden said, watching Rose, who although she had another girl to help her, still was not doing much better than Charlie because she was trying to handle her orders and sit with her S/Sgt at the same time.
“I said, hey, Rose!” Warden bellowed.
She was sitting in the Artillery booth, but she came over. Her swarthy wanton little face, which was Portagee but was betrayed as a racial misalliance by the faintly slanted eyes, was a little irritated though.
“What you want, Warden?”
“Whats your boy friend’s name?”
She eyed him sullenly. “What you want to know for? Is none of your business.”
Warden ogled her lush breasts openly. Rose followed his gaze down and then raised her eyes angrily to stare into his light blue eyes defiantly.
“What outfit is he in?” Warden asked conversationally.
“Say! What you care? I thought you want something. You drunk, eh? Lissen, Charlie wait on you. I no wait on bar.” She turned with a flounce, and marched back to the Artillery booth.
As one man, Warden and Stark both swung on their stools to watch her go. Her round bare legs slithered together prophetically under the swirling skirt. The small of her back made a concave surface that rounded out breathtakingly into the firm curved cheeks of her little bottom that waggled at them impishly.
“Christ!” Stark said reverently. “What an ass!”
“Amen,” Warden said tranquilly. He pursed his lips and ran his tongue over his mustache mellowly. He could feel the old cloudy belligerence of drunkenness rising up through his chest into his head soothingly, like a deep breath of camphor. Everything had that startling clarity of forgotten things being seen again.
“Are you happy?” Stark said.
“Sure I’m happy.”
“Man this is the life,” Stark said pointedly. “I wouldnt trade this life for nothing. Would you?”
“No,” Warden said. “Stark,” he said, “you know whats wrong with you? You’re a Texan, and you aint go no sense of humor.”
“I got a sense of humor.”
“Sure you have. Everybody has. But yours aint the right kind. Its too thick. Like blackstrap. You cant distinguish pride from a sense of humor. A proud man without the right kind of sense of humor beats himself to death before he’s thirty. Now take me. I got a real sense of humor. Thats why I can make a guy like you do anything I want him to.”
“You cant make me do nothing I dont want to,” Stark declared.
“I cant, hunh?” Warden said slyly. “You want to bet?”
“Sure, I’ll bet.”
Warden turned back to his drink, grinning slyly. Then he straightened up. “Hey, Rose!”
Rose came back up to the bar frowning. “Goddam Warden, what you want now?”
“Another shot of rye, Rose baby. Thats what I want. Fill my glass.”
“The man will fill your glass. Charlie fill it.”
“To hell with him. I want you to