The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [199]
“Jake has a keen woman with him tonight,” said one of the young fellows by the washbowl, as Studs washed his hands.
“I don’t like her.”
“What did she do, two-time you on a date?”
“That mama wouldn’t two-time anything in pants. She’s a tramp and anything from eight to eighty goes with her. If you ask me, Jake had plenty of guts, plenty of guts, bringing her to a dance like this, where there’s all kinds of decent, respectable girls.”
“Jake must be hard up if that’s the case. Only whatever you or I saw, I know I’d never kick her out of bed.”
“I never could understand Jake anyway. He always does things like this.”
“Yeah, he is kind of unconventional.”
They passed on out. A white-coated shine started brushing Studs’ suit. He was a pest. Studs handed him two bits and told him to lay off. Studs dallied over a cigarette, because he didn’t want to face the crowd. Finally he shot the cigarette aside and walked out with the air of a guy who was making a big decision.
The groups, spread across the long, narrow, and gaudily upholstered lounge, disheartened him. They talked in muffled voices, strolled languidly up and down, stood and sat about. He was afraid of it all, afraid he might act like a clown. But it seemed warm, gay, because there was such a number, so many good-looking young girls. He was glad he’d come, and he wanted to, was determined to, become part of it. He went forwards as if he had nothing to do, hoping he’d recognize some friends. He’d never seen so many hot-looking women in his life; and he had one of the hottest ones of all here. His elation subsided as quickly as it had arisen. Hell, it was all artificial. They were all trying to put on the dog, show that they were lace-curtain Irish, and lived in steam-heat.
He waited for Lucy in a corner, near the entrance, feeling lonesome, watching more couples coming, envying the guys who came with laughing girls, because he knew they were going to have a good time, and he wasn’t. He saw Lucy coming toward him and his mood vanished. Maybe she did like him. He noticed her high-heeled silver slippers, and the silver rose buds on her shoulder straps. He realized that she didn’t see him, as she walked forwards, half-smiling, seeming very happy. He hoped she was that way, because of him. She was damn keen all right. Plenty of bastards were going to wish they were in his shoes tonight.
“Here you are. I’ve been looking for you,” she said in a very friendly voice.
He said yeah. She babbled that the dance was going over big and would make money. It tickled her so that she could hardly wait to see Fran. Fran would be so thrilled because she had plugged so much for it and took such an interest in the affairs of the sorority. Studs listened, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When she finished chattering, he answered yeah.
“Everybody is here,” Lucy said.
“Yeah,” Studs said, wondering what the hell she meant by everybody, a lot of these goddamn two-bit jellybeans around the place.
The music started up. He suggested dancing. She nodded but said to wait until a few others went in. If she was one of the first on the floor, she’d feel like she was on exhibition. He put his hands in his pockets, and waited. He took them out, and let them hang at his side, figuring he guessed he might as well not put them in his pockets. She said he had