The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [291]
“You never could rely on Pete for anything,” Pat said.
“That’s the way I always doped him,” Studs said.
“Say, that’s the twelfth train I watched go by tonight. I counted ‘em,” O’Doul said, watching an eastbound train clatter out of the Bryn Mawr station.
“Jesus Christ!” O’Grady exclaimed in surprise. “That’s my idea of nothing to do. Counting trains. Hey, O’Doul, how many automobiles has passed here going to South Shore in the last nineteen minutes?”
“Huh?”
“You’re falling down on the job, boy,” said O’Grady, and they laughed.
“Well, now that the barbering has gone so far, let’s get a bottle,” Bryan said.
Studs was tempted, and thought of how he could get ‘em off on a rip-roaring drunk and show them what Studs Lonigan really was, and teach the kid brother a couple of tricks for good measure.
“Now, Bryan, you’re showing me you got some stuff on the ball,” Martin said.
“I’m game, Don. But since this is your bright idea, how about you shelling out for the bottle? Steve O’Grady will help you drink it,” O’Grady said.
“Who was your chump last year?”
“You.”
“Well, try hunting a new one this year,” Bryan said while they laughed.
“Oh, by the way, Pat, you know that keen broad, Louise Mahler? She’s getting to look more like hot stuff every day. Saw her at a dance at the Westgate last week,” Schuber said, O’Doul turning to look at them.
“Has she been introduced into the mysteries of life and love yet?” asked Bryan.
“Don, your mind is lousy. She’s a decent girl,” Pat said.
“And sure, so was I a decent boy once,” Bryan said.
“Say, Studs, how’s Phil Rolfe making out these days?” Pat asked.
“That boy just rakes in the dough,” Martin said.
“Phil Rolfe. Oh, that’s right, he’s your brother-in-law, isn’t he, Lonigan? Sure, I would say he’s cleaning up. I was over to his place a few weeks ago, played a buck on a nag, and she paid four to one, and was his joint crowded! Lots of women there old enough to be my mother, too, playing the ponies. With times kind of hard, everybody is trying to make a little extra, and a lot of ‘em are playing the ponies and that’s just up Phil’s alley. I don’t envy him his luck, though. He’s a nice lad. I was talking to him a few minutes. Nice lad. I never associated it, Studs, that you and Husk were his brother-in-laws,” Allison said.
Studs Lonigan, Phil Rolfe’s brother-in-law. That it would ever come to the time that he was known this way, instead of Phil being known as Studs’ brother-in-law. He suddenly felt out of everything. A new corner. A new bunch. Out of it. Others pushing along, to be where he used to be. He looked from face to face: Martin, cocky and surly; Pat, jolly; that snotty puss of Bryan. O’Doul, simpering, showing off, standing there all dressed up and no place to go, trying to act like hot stuff, just as he used to back at the corner of Fifty-eighth and Prairie. The world could change, but not Kodak Kid O’Doul, Studs thought, sneering. And Allison, bigger, younger, more powerful-looking than himself. Out of it. These lads, knowing him as Phil Rolfe’s brother-in-law. His old contempt for Phil rose. Before he got through. Well, he had to take nobody’s. He had his investment, didn’t he..
“Well, are we or ain’t we?” asked Bryan impatiently.
“Count me out. I’m tired, and I’m going home to hit the hay early,” Pat said.
“How about you, Lonigan?” Don asked.
“No, thanks. Not tonight,” Studs answered.
“Don, can’t you see that this gang is as full of vim, vigor, vitality, and ambition as a sleeping alligator?” O’Grady said.
“Well, I’m ready,” Martin said.
“And try walking home on your own feet tonight to see how it feels,” Studs said to Martin, smiling.
“Don’t worry about me there, foxy grandpa,” said Martin.
“Well, I’ll see you again, fellows,” Studs said.
“Take care of yourself, Studs, and don’t take any rubber dimes,” Pat said as Studs walked to the chain drug store entrance to go in for a malted milk.
VI
“You missed Amos and Andy tonight. Golly, they were funny,” Lonigan said as Studs entered the parlor.
“I was talking to some fellows