The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [298]
“Yes, I guess you’re right. You know, Studs, after you get married, money goes faster than you think. That car we bought, furniture, clothes, and the upkeep of a home and bookies is damn high. Cops, politicians, high salaries, because you know, as I just said, all the jobs I have to give out are politicians’ jobs.”
“Yes, we’ll have to economize. And Phil, dear, I’m going to watch Marie. I’ve been letting her do the buying and I’m sure she is stealing on me. You can never trust a nigger.”
“I guess not.”
“And she gets so much better treatment than most maids do. Why, Fran is shocked that I pay her eight and a half dollars a week these days when maids are so easy to get.”
Studs yawned. His glance, drifting toward Loretta, caught hers. She smiled, an understanding smile.
“But Studs doesn’t care about such things, do you, Studs?” Loretta said.
“Let’s have some music,” Phil said, dialing in upon the crooning of Just a Gigolo. Studs leaned back in his chair, bored during the announcement between songs. He wondered whether when he married Catherine, would they spend many evenings like this, getting fed up, talking just to make talk. And his stock, down four points, eighty times four made three twenty lost if he sold it. Suppose his father asked for the two thousand bucks. Could Phil loan him the difference?
“Well, Phil, I suppose if things keep rolling your way, you’ll be coming out one of these days with a bank account to choke an elephant.”
“No danger, Studs. I got lots of expenses. But now that we’re settled, and got our car and furniture, I hope to save a little.”
“Fran and Carroll are much better off than we are,” Loretta said.
It dawned on Studs. Preparing excuses in advance. He checked an angry impulse to sound off, and thought that yes, Phil was spending everything. He could just remember the Jewboy who used to be so tight in the old days and sold clothes to all his friends, he could just see him spending all his dough. He yawned.
“And now I present to you Mr. Horgath Kelson, the internationally renowned economist.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, these days many people, from the man on the corner, to radicals, politicians who are amongst the outs rather than the ins, and even a few business leaders, are issuing gloomy statements. If we were to believe these, they would convince us all that we are whistling in a graveyard.”
“Oh, get some music, Loretta.”
“Yes, but let’s just get what he’s got to say. He’s a famous man,” Phil said.
“Who is he?”
“Oh, he runs some kind of service advising business men. I’ve heard of him.”
“I never did before,” Studs said.
“To the contrary, I would say that 1931 is going to be the year of opportunity. This is no pipe dream. Statistics show us that business reached its lowest point on the index in December, 1930, and since then there has been a gradual improvement. All indications show us that within six months we will be again at a peak. That’s why I believe that many who were trapped in crashing stock markets can, by buying now before the upturn reaches its full swing, recoup their loses.”
“Phil, darling, isn’t that enough of it?”
“Yes, dear,” Phil said, arising to get a new station.
Gee! it’s great after bein’ out late,
Walkin’ my baby back home.
Urn, Studs thought, better keep those stocks. In six months they’d make him rich.
“What he said sounds hopeful,” Studs said.
“Yeah,” Phil muttered.
“Maybe a fellow with some dough could clean up if he bought some stocks.”
“Well, maybe, but I’d feel better with my dough safe in the bank, drawing its three per. I don’t know much about stocks, but that’s why you won’t find me sinking my money in a racket I don’t know much about. When it comes to such propositions, safety first is my middle name.”
Arm in arm over meadow and farm,
Walkin’ my baby back home.
Studs felt superior to Phil. Phil was a pinching piker, wouldn’t take a chance. Even after hearing that economist, he wouldn’t. Well, Studs would. He was clinging to that stock until it paid him back plenty.
“Coffee, Studs?”
“All