Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [32]
"Guess it didn't."
"Good night, Bert. And I have a couple of old brassieres at the house, tell her. They're clean and fresh and she can have them any time she drops around."
"Listen, goddam it, you got the car. Now kindly shut up."
"Anything you say."
She pulled away and drove home. When she got there the light was still on, and everything was as she had left it. Glancing at the gas, she -saw there were two gallons in the tank, and kept on straight ahead. At Colorado Avenue she turned. It was the first through boulevard she had been on, and the traffic signals were off, with yellow blinkers showing. She gave the car the gun, excitedly watching the needle swing past 30, 40, and 50. At 60, on a slight upgrade, she detected the gravelly sound of ping, made a mental note to have the carbon removed. Then she eased off a little on the gas, breathed a long, tremulous sigh. The car was pumping something into her veins, something of pride, of arrogance, of regained self-respect, that no talk, no liquor, no love, could possibly give. Once more she felt like herself, and began thinking about the job with cool detachment, instead of shame. Its problems, from balancing the dishes to picking up starters, ffitted through her mind one after another, and she almost laughed that a few hours ago they had seemed formidable.
When she put the car in the garage, she inspected the tires with a flashlight, to see how they looked. She was pleased to find that there was considerable rubber left, -so that new ones wouldn't be 'needed at once. Then she ran humming into the house, turned out the light, and undressed, in the dark. Then she went to the children's room, put her arms around Veda, and kissed her. As Veda stirred sleepily, she said: "Something very nice 'happened tonight, and you were the cause of it all, and I take everything back that I said. Now go to sleep and don't think about it any more."
"I'm so glad, mother."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
CHAPTER V
Within a few days, Mildred's financial troubles had eased a little, for she quickly became the best waitress in the place, not only at giving service, but at bagging tips. The trick of balancing dishes she learned by practicing after the children had gone to bed. She used tin plates, weighting them with stones from the garden, and got so that she coul-d spread three on the fingers of her left hand, lay two more on her arm, remember not to stick her tongue out, and go sailing around the kitchen table without dropping any. -
Tips, she knew instinctively, were a matter of regular customers who left dimes instead of nickels. She cultivated men, as all the girls did, as they were better tippers than women. She thought up little schemes to find out their names, remembered all their little likes, dislikes, and crotchets, and saw that Archie gave them exactly what they wanted. She had a talent for quiet flirtation, but found that this didn't pay. Serving a man food, apparently, was in itself an ancient intimacy; going beyond it made him uncomfortable, and sounded a trivial note in what was essentially a solemn relationship. Simple friendliness, coupled with exact attention to his wants, seemed to please him -most, and on that basis she had frequent invitations to take 'a ride, have dinner, or see a show. At first she didn't quite know what to do about them, but soon invented a refusal that wasn't a rebuff. She would say she wanted him to "keep on liking her," that he "might feel differently if he saw her when she wasn't in uniform." This had the effect of