Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [335]
“I don’t know,” Studs said, because he hadn’t listened closely and he hadn’t anything else to say.
“Bill, I had my stocks sold out from under my feet today.”
“Gee, dad. That’s rotten, I’m terribly sorry. How much?”
“Five thousand bucks more, Bill.”
Studs lit a cigarette and rose to get an ash tray.
“Goddamn robbers.” Lonigan cursed.
They sat in silence.
“Bill, I’m in a hole now. I can’t collect on bills long overdue me, and I’m going to have to meet a big mortgage payment in the early fall. And with wages to pay out and the household expenses to meet, I’m in a tighter pinch than I ever was in my life. Can I borrow that money of yours for a little while?”
Studs’ face dropped. He looked aside.
“Of course, Bill, I feel that I ain’t got the right to ask you, and if you don’t want to, why, I’ll have to try elsewhere. I’ve already borrowed up to the hilt on my life insurance, and it’s pretty damn hard raising any money these days.”
“It isn’t that, it’s. . . .”
“What?” Lonigan said with questioning anxiety, as Studs, failing to continue, seemingly groped for words.
“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 thing, 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.