Serenade - James M. Cain [64]
"We went over that. I meant to run away, and you knew what I meant. Lying, that was just how we got over it easy. Then when I found out what you meant to me, I didn't lie. That's all...what the hell squawk have you got? You were all ready to sleep with that son-of-a-bitch--"
"I no lie."
"What has this got to do with Acapulco?"
"Yes, it is the same. Now you love man, you lie."
"I don't--Christ, do I look like that?"
"No. You no look like that. We meet in Tupinamba, yes? And you no look like that I like, much, how you look. Then you make lotería for me, and lose lotería. And I think, how sweet. He have lose, but he like me so much he make lotería. Then I send muchacha with address, and we go home, go where I live. But then I know. You know how I know?"
"Don't know, don't care. It's not true."
"I know when you sing. Hoaney, I was street girl, love man, three pesos. Little dumb muchacha, no can read, no can write, understand nothing like that. But of man--all...Hoaney, these man who love other man, they can do much, very clever. But no can sing. Have no toro in high voice, no grrr that frighten little muchacha, make heart beat fast. Sound like old woman, like cow, like priest."
She began to walk around. My hands were clammy and my lips felt numb. "...Then the político, he say I should open house, and I think of you. I think maybe, with these man, no like muchacha, have no trouble. We got to Acapulco. Rain come, we go in church. You take me. I no want, I think of sacrilegio, but you take me. Oh, much toro. I like. I think maybe Juana make mistake. Then you sing, oh, my heart beat very fast."
"Just a question of toro, hey?"
"No. You ask me to come with you. I come. I love you much. I no think of toro. Just a little bit. Then in New York I feel, I feel something fonny. I think you think about contrato, all these thing. But is not the same. Tonight I know. I make no mistake. When you love Juana, you sing nice, much toro. When you love man--why you lie to me? You think I no hear? You think I no know?"
If she had taken a whip to me I couldn't have answered her. She began to cry, and fought it back. She went in the other room, and pretty soon she came out. She had changed her dress and put on a hat. She was carrying the valise in one hand and the fur coat in the other. "I no live with man who love other man. I no live with man who lie. I--"
The phone rang. "--Ah!"
She ran in and answered. "Yes, he is here."
She came out, her eyes blazing and her white teeth showing behind something that was between a laugh and a snarl. "Mr. Hawes."
I didn't say anything and I didn't move. "Yes, Mr. Hawes, the director." She gave a rasping laugh and put on the god-damdest imitation of Winston you ever saw, the walk, the stick, and all the rest of it so you almost thought he was in front of you. "Yes, your sweetie, he wait at telephone, talk to him please."
When I still sat there, she jumped at me like a tiger, shook me till I could feel my teeth rattling, and then ran in to the telephone. "What you want with Mr. Sharp, please?...Yes, yes, he will come Yes, thank you much. Goodbye."
She came out again. "Now, please you go. He have party, want you very much. Now, go to your sweetie. Go! Go! Go!"
She shook me again, jerked me out of the chair, tried to push me out the door. She grabbed up the valise and the fur coat again. I ran in the bedroom, flopped on the bed, pulled the pillow over my head. I wanted to shut it out, the whole horrible thing she had showed me, where she had ripped the cover off my whole life, dragged out what was down there all the time. I screwed my eyes shut, kept pulling the pillow around my ears. But one thing kept slicing up at me, no matter what I did. It was the fin of that shark.
I don't know how long I stayed there. I was on my back after a while, staring at nothing. It was dead quiet outside, and dead still, except for the searchlight from the building on Fourteenth Street, that kept going around and around. I kept telling myself she was crazy, that voice is a matter