The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [121]
Slug watched the youngest Sullivan girl trip stiff-leggedly by.
“Nice,” Mike babbled, with clumsy, pawing, emphatic gestures. They laughed in mutual understanding.
III
Bob Connell entered, wearing a loud gray summer suit with bell buttons. Big Rocky Kansas followed him, walking muscle bound and like a tame bear. He was a bushy-browed lad of about twenty-one, with broad shoulders. He smiled with intoxicating good-nature, and, sticking a cigar in his bucolic face, ranged himself alongside Slug. Slug ignored Bob’s cloying salutation; he said Rocky looked like a politician, smoking that cigar. They heard the click of the pool balls. Big Rocky yelled hello to his kid brother.
“Say, last night, Gleen Reaves and me had some red hot mamas dated up. Cost us five bucks at Kling Hing Lo’s Chop House. But, boy, did those broads know how to sock. Say, fellahs, I tell you, I never danced with the broad who socked like mine did. Why she dry .. .” Bob said with enthusiasm, cutting off his words, and answering the call from Young Rocky.
“Say, that punk has only got fifty cards in his deck,” Slug said, pronouncing his t's as d's.
“Hell, he is only young, sixteen. He hasn’t lost his cherry,” Big Rocky said.
“Look! Look!” Mike said, pointing at a passing broad.
IV
“Well, Studs, you’re a man now,” grinned Slug.
“That doesn’t mean nothing,” replied bleary-eyed Studs.
“Say, you’re right there. It’s true,” Slug said.
“Most things are just plain crap to me,” Studs said.
“Ain’t they though?” said Slug, saying “though” as if it were “dough.”
“My head!” said Studs, feeling his right temple.
“Well, you was polluted last night,” Slug said.
Studs nodded agreement.
“Say, Paulie’s in bad shape. He was prayed for in Church this morning.”
“He’s a good lad.”
“Gee, I hope he pulls through. But he’s in a tough spot now,” said Studs.
“He’s down for the count, huh,” said Slug.
“Let’s get a coke and take a little walk,” Studs said, as they walked out.
V
“And was I blind last night!” reiterated eighteen-year-old Ellsworth Lyman.
“You were soused to the gills,” Wils Gillen said, causing Lyman to smile with the pride of achievement.
“Ellsworth was so drunk he went around with tears in his eyes, sobbing the blues, because he couldn’t stop breathing,” said Darby Dan Drennan; they guffawed.
“I don’t remember that, but I do remember a guy getting tough with me around Sixty-third, and I was all set to knock his teeth down his throat. But he was so yellow, I didn’t have the heart to lay one on him.”
“When Lyman called him, he folded up like an umbrella,” Gillen said.
“I can’t stand a guy with a yellow streak down his back,” Lyman said.
“Well, by God, Ellsworth, you were snaky last night,” said Wils.
“I guess I was,” Ellsworth proudly said.
VI
“Jeff, you’re falling away to a ton!” Red Kelly said.
“Yeah, don’t fool yourself! I just dropped seventy-five pounds,” Jeff replied, handfuls of fat on his cheek, chin, and neck wiggling into a smile.
He rolled along the poolroom, a lumbrous, slightly limping, waddling barracks of flesh.
“Hi, boys!” he said with excessive good-nature.
“Boys, here’s Jeff, the baby elephant!” yelled Pochon.
“Say, Jeff, I thought you’d already joined a freak show,” Young Rocky said.
“Say, Hippo, Man Bleu is gunning for you, and promises that he won’t do anything at all but lose his fists in your god-damn fat puss,” Lyman yelled.
“I ain’t done nothing to him,” Jeff protested.
“What, another chump you took in?” asked Kelly.
“Man gave him five bucks to get him some punch boards. He ain’t seen the elephant since,” Lyman said.
“He’s not gettin gypped. He’ll get them. They were just delayed at the factory. Just got ‘em yesterday. In fact, I came around to see if he was here now.”
“B.S.,” Young Rocky said, lip-farting.
“Jeff, you ain’t got the heart of a snake, have you?” said Kelly.
“Commere, Red. I got a funny story to tell you,” Jeff said.
“Jeff, the first ton is the hardest, ain’t it?” said Gillen.
VII
“Arnold, where’d you get the shiner?” Stan Simonsky,