The Postman Always Rings Twice - James M. Cain [2]
"It's awful. Look at that."
"Was a very big wind. I could no sleep. No sleep all night."
"Big wind all right. But look at the sign."
"Is busted."
I kept tinkering with the sign, and he would come out and watch me. "How did you get this sign anyway?"
"Was here when I buy the place. Why?"
"It's lousy all right. I wonder you do any business at all."
I went to gas up a car, and left him to think that over. When I got back he was still blinking at it, where it was leaning against the front of the lunchroom. Three of the lights were busted. I plugged in the wire, and half of the others didn't light.
"Put in new lights, hang'm up, will be all right."
"You're the boss."
"What's a matter with it?"
"Well, it's out of date. Nobody has bulb signs any more. They got Neon signs. They show up better, and they don't burn as much juice. Then, what does it say? Twin Oaks, that's all. The Tavern part, it's not in lights. Well, Twin Oaks don't make me hungry. It don't make me want to stop and get something to eat. It's costing you money, that sign, only you don't know it."
"Fix'm up, will be hokay."
"Why don't you get a new sign?"
"I'm busy."
But pretty soon he was back, with a piece of paper. He had drew a new sign for himself, and colored it up with red, white, and blue crayon. It said Twin Oaks Tavern, and Eat, and BarB-Q, and Sanitary Rest Rooms, and N. Papadakis, Prop.
"Swell. That'll knock them for a loop."
I fixed up the words, so they were spelled right, and he put some more curlycues on the letters.
"Nick, why do we hang up the old sign at all? Why don't you go to the city today and get this new sign made? It's a beauty, believe me it is. And it's important. A place is no better than it's sign, is it?"
"I do it. By golly, I go."
Los Angeles wasn't but twenty miles away, but he shined himself up like he was going to Paris, and right after lunch, he went. Soon as he was gone, I locked the front door. I picked up a plate that a guy had left, and went on back in the kitchen with it. She was there.
"Here's a plate that was out there."
"Oh, thanks."
I set it down. The fork was rattling like a tambourine.
"I was going to go, but I started some things cooking and I thought I better not."
"I got plenty to do, myself."
"You feeling better?"
"I'm all right."
"Sometimes just some little thing will do it. Like a change of water, something like that."
"Probably too much lunch."
"What's that?"
Somebody was out front, rattling the door. "Sounds like somebody trying to get in."
"Is the door locked, Frank?"
"I must have locked it."
She looked at me, and got pale. She went to the swinging door, and peeped through. Then she went into the lunchroom, but in a minute she was back.
"They went away."
"I don't know why I locked it."
"I forgot to unlock it."
She started for the lunchroom again, but I stopped her. "Let's--leave it locked."
"Nobody can get in if it's locked. I got some cooking to do. I'll wash up this plate."
I took her in my arms and mashed my mouth up against hers. . . . "Bite me! Bite me!"
I bit her. I sunk my teeth into her lips so deep I could feel the blood spurt into my mouth. It was running down her neck when I carried her upstairs.
CHAPTER 3
For two days after that I was dead, but the-Greek was sore at me, so I got by all right. He was sore at me because I hadn't fixed the swing door that led from the lunchroom into the kitchen. She told him it swung back and hit her in the mouth. She had to tell him something. Her mouth was all swelled up where I had bit it. So he said it was my fault, that I hadn't fixed it. I stretched the spring, so it was weaker, and that fixed it.
But the real reason he was sore at me was over the sign. He had fallen for it so hard he was afraid I would say it was my idea, stead of his. It was such a hell of a sign they couldn't get it done for him that afternoon. It took them three days, and when it was ready I went in and