Hard Rain Falling - Don Carpenter [46]
“Give me another cigarette. I’m sorry for her; she’s really scared. But I’m not. I don’t give a shit what happens to me.” She looked at him over her cigarette, now sitting up again, her breasts exposed. “Last night,” she said. Her eyes glittered oddly. “That was the first time I ever...well, you know? What you did to me. I remember. I never felt like that before. Is it you?”
“No,” he said. “Maybe you just got drunk enough to forget about worrying.”
“Oh, God,” she said. Her face twisted itself into a babyish frown. “You didn’t just screw me, did you? Didn’t you use a rubber or anything?”
“No. You remember, you know I didn’t.”
“But I’ll have a baby. Oh, Jesus Christ.”
“Are you going to worry about it?”
“No. The hell with it. Screw me again. What do I care?” She puffed angrily at her cigarette, stubbed it out, and put her arms around him, her mouth on his chest.
“I can’t,” he said. “I’m gettin old.”
“I don’t care. Piss on it. I’m just a whore anyway.” She began to cry on his chest. He was amazed. She had gone through about ten emotions in ten seconds and now she was bawling. But that was just like a whore, wasn’t it? All of the whores Jack had known very well, no matter how cool and businesslike, turned hysterical in the end, went on shit or fell in love with other whores or sat around talking about suicide or pretending they were catching tuberculosis; and suddenly Jack knew that Sue and Mona were going to be just exactly what they were afraid of, and that so far no smart pimps had gotten hold of them and taken them over the bumps, or they’d have been turned out long before. It was just a matter of time, and Mona would learn about getting the money first, and Sue would forget about liking it; the life would soften them, and tears would come easier and love harder. It was depressing. A life of prostitution seemed so drab. But then he had to admit that the girls weren’t really cut out for any thing else, except maybe working behind a counter somewhere, going out with small-time sports and fading out into drab marriages and the bitterness of obscurity. Either way. What difference did it make? He felt a little sorry for them, for Sue, now silent and pretending sleep, and then he corrected himself angrily. To feel sorry for them was to pretend that he was any better, and worse, to pretend that he cared about them. Which was nonsense, both ways. He had whored a little himself, hadn’t he? What else could you call boxing? Of course, he had enjoyed boxing for a while, but then the girls would probably enjoy hustling, if only for the outlaw feeling it would give them, and the money and the sense of daring. But of course that never lasted.
There was a knock at the door. Jack got out of bed and went to the door and asked who it was, and Denny answered. Jack opened the door.
“What the hell’s goin on?” Denny said angrily; “you took my girl!”
“He didn’t lay a hand on me, Denny, honest to God!” Sue said from the bed.
“That’s right,” Jack said. “I was so goddam drunk I dragged off the wrong girl. No shit, I was so drunk I just hit the sack. We just woke up.”
“Bullshit!” Denny looked betrayed and furious. His face was puffed with sleep, and his eyes red.
“Honest to God, honey.”
“Shut up!” Denny turned to Jack. Their faces were only a few inches apart. “Smart bastard! I thought you was my friend!”
Jack made himself relax. “What’s the matter, wouldn’t Mona come across?”
Denny swung at him and Jack blocked the punch easily.
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”
Denny stared at him stupidly. “You’re a boxer.”
“That’s right. It wouldn’t be fair.”
They stood that way for a few moments. Jack felt the tangle descending on him, and had an urge to tear it away, but he kept control of himself and said, “Listen, don’t get upset. We really didn’t do anything. Honest, Denny.”
Finally the old Denny asserted itself, and he grinned. Jack noticed that his teeth were dirty. “Okay,” Denny said. “I’m sorry.”
He kept apologizing all day, and it bothered Jack, because he had decided that he preferred Sue to Mona, and he didn’t know