The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [325]
“Well, you see, Dad, after Catherine and I got engaged, I thought that I’d be needing all the money I could get, and that I ought to put my money in something that paid me a little more than just the bank interest, so I took a chance.”
“You lost it?”
“I bought some Imbray stock at twenty-five a share, and it’s down to thirteen. I’m nine hundred and sixty bucks out if I sell.”
“Bill, you should have asked me. You should have asked me,” Lonigan said regretfully, showing that he was deeply hurt.
“I meant to. And well, Dad. I just took a chance. I was just a damn sucker.”
“God, Bill! Imbray stock is as shaky as a reed in the wind.”
“I thought that since it is based on public utilities, and with a smart man like Solomon Imbray controlling it, it would be safe.”
“I know. I had money in some Imbray securities, too, and that’s why I’m holding the bag. That stock is paper and water. You better get out from under with what you got left in the morning, and take your loss. Something left is better than nothing.”
“Think so, Dad?”
“Yes, Bill. Get out, and don’t try that stunt again without asking me about it. I’ve learned now, myself. They just wait for suckers, sheep to fleece in the market. If you’d only asked me, I might have warned you. This is the wrong time to go fooling around in stocks. The reason I lost today is, I bought my stocks on margin, and they slid so I couldn’t get out. The broker was carrying me along a little. But today it was the end.
“It’s the wrong time, Bill.”
Studs agreed with a meek nod. He could see that the old man had been hurt, all right. Lonigan turned on the radio.
Did you ever hear Pete go tweet
tweet, tweet on his piccolo?
No? Well you’ve missed a lot...
Lonigan did not listen, but sat down in his chair, brooding, and forgetting, with that same blank, sleepy look on his face, that Studs had noticed so frequently these last months.
A snappy jazz band broke out, stirring Studs, making him want a good time, fun, dancing, drinking, whoopee. The loud fast rhythm seemed to be in his nerves. He beat his foot on the carpet, swayed his shoulders.
“You better sell out tomorrow, Bill, and bank that money. I’ll see if I can’t borrow a little on my Order of Christopher insurance. And with the Democrats back in power, I’m hoping that I can line up some contracts. In fact, I think I’ll go see Barney McCormack about it tomorrow,” Lonigan said while an announcer eulogized a talcum powder. “You’ll need what you got left out of it for your wedding. And these contracts or something will turn up.”
“I’m going to sell, all right, Dad. But you’re really welcome to the money. You better take it. Things will be much better by the time I’ll need it, and you’ll be able to pay me back then.”
“Bill, I hope to be able to give you much more than that when you’re married, if I only get some good breaks. But I won’t take this yet. You bank it. I’ll get out of this hole, all right, and there has to be a pickup. America is too great and too rich a country to go to the dogs. And we’ll ride right back up on the waves.”
Studs could see, though, that the old man was hit. He felt as if he’d stuck a knife in his dad’s back. Judas Iscariot. He sank in his chair, dreamily listened to sugared sad music, feeling lousy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I
Seeing the morning sunlight beyond the window, hearing the sounds of life in the alley, Studs was glad to be awake and to know that the distressing sadness he had been feeling was only a dream. He stretched himself out comfortably, and with his eyes on the ceiling tried to remember his dream. All he could remember was that he had been very sad and afraid in it. He sighed again because it had only been a dream, now it was morning, and he had a sunny day ahead of him with nothing to do but take it easy.
In the alley an automobile exhaust went off like a gun.
He guessed he might even wait a few days on his stock, and see if it didn’t go up. Because if the market broke yesterday, it was only natural that there would be a little stabilization today. A man like Imbray