The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [248]
The blond girl rushed from a bedroom yelling that she’d been raped. She opened a window, screamed that she’d been raped, and threatened to jump.
Red pulled her back. She stood looking about the shocked group, her face distorted and insane. Tommy appeared, asking what the hell was eating her.
“He! He! He!” she shouted, missing Tommy’s head with a gin bottle; it ricocheted off the wall, and hit Mickey in the bean. He continued to sleep.
Slug walked over to the girl amidst a tense silence. He slapped her face. She cowered.
“One more bat out of you and you won’t have to jump!”
XV
Shorty Leach sat fully clothed in a bathtub of water, droning:
The pal that I loved, stole the gal that I loved, and took all my sunshine and joy;
Nobody but he was a buddy to me, since we played on the floor with our toys.
I just can’t believe my old pal would deceive. Gee, but I’m heartsick and sore,
The pal that I loved, stole the gal that I loved, that’s why we’re not pals anymore.
XVI
“I shouldn’t be drinking. I’m sick. I just came out of the hospital, and the doc he says to me, ‘Les, cut it out, or you’ll be picking daisies!’”
“Shut up, fool!” Barney mocked.
“But I don’t care. There ain’t nothin’ in life for me. I’m just a goddamn expressman for the Express Company. I ain’t got no future.”
Tears rolled down his thin, red face; he drank.
“Listen, heel, what’s the idea of holding out?” said Keefe.
“Here, pal!”
“Barney, I had a vocation to be a priest. I should be a priest. And look at me! Look at me! Look at me!” Les said, while Barney guzzled.
“I am looking!”
“Ain’t I a wreck?”
“Sure, you’re the Wreck of the Hesperus.”
‘Barney, I might be dead next New Year’s. The doc said so. He said: ‘Kid, lay off the liquor.’ But why should I? I’m nothin’. A goddamn teameo for John Continental. Here, gimme a drink,” he said, snatching back his bottle and drinking.
Les sneered, looking at a lamp.
“That goddamn thing, I don’t like it!” he said.
He kicked it over.
Barney pulled out a little bottle and raised it aloft, saying: “To myself; good men are scarce.”
XVII
There was a sharp rap on the door and a command to open up. Two burly, monkey-faced cops entered.
“What the hell do you call this?” one said.
The other drew a gat. A girl fainted.
“Call the wagon,” said the cop, holding the gat on them.
“Who’s running this party?” asked the other cop.
“We all are,” said Carrigan.
“All who? Speak up, you birds!”
“What the hell, Officer. It’s New Year’s. We’re just havin’ a little party,” Slug said.
“Yeah, so I see,” said the cop ironically.
“Pipe down, you!” said the cop with the drawn gun.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you!”
“Say, what’s the idea?” Slug asked.
“Stand back, or I’ll shoot.”
“Drop that gun, and talk!” Slug commanded.
“Just a minute, Officer,” Joe Moonan said, appearing, and flashing his star. Red followed, showing his bailiff’s star.
He and Red talked to the officers, and Red told them his old man had been a sergeant.
“Sure, this is just a party. You know, all the boys having a good time,” Joe said.
“Well, we got a complaint, and we had to come.”
“Want a drink, Officer?” Red asked.
“Sure.”
Red gave them a couple of drinks.
“And say, listen, you know, Moonan, kind of ask the lads to pipe down on the noise. We don’t like to be gettin’ calls like this.”
“Sure.”
“Here, take this along,” Red said, handing one of them a bottle of gin.
XVIII
“Say, Slug, that goddamn broad in there has made a wreck out of me. Jesus, I’m a wreck. Christ sake, please help me out,” Wils said.
“Sure thing, kid,” said Slug disappearing.
“I just wanna lay down and die,” Wils said, dropping on the floor.
XIX
“Come on, let’s play football,” said Nate Klein, squatting.
Red yelled to cut it out.
“Sixteen, nineteen, twenty-four, Fifty-eighth Street. Cardinals hike!” he yelled, springing against the wall.
Red and Weary grabbed him from behind, and told him to cut it out. He struggled free, squatted, flung himself at the wall again. He bounced back, moaning, holding his hand. Red took him into the bathroom to soak it in hot water.
XX
“Come on, it