Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [360]
He watched her single out others, and he was confused by the unusualness of the offer, excited for her, and he decided that it had certainly turned out to be the nuts of an afternoon. Only, if he could get her alone, instead of with a gang. But maybe this might lead to it, and she might just be what he wanted to have on the string. She winked at him. He nodded knowingly, stepped toward the counter, but Phil was busy and he went outside. When she came out, three others joined her as Studs stepped toward her. She looked grimly at them.
“I don’t know you fellows. You better stop in the drug store on the way.”
“You’re not dumb, are you, sister?”
“Let’s save that and get along. And you better stop in the drug store.”
“O. K., little lady,” a sandy-haired brute of a fellow said in a slow, almost stuttering manner.
She stepped ahead, and a thin Semitic lad took a quarter from each of them.
“We can toss for the extras.”
“That’s all right. You can keep ’em,” a medium-sized fellow with a tough face and bushy brows said.
“It’s just the rotten kind of luck I would have,” she said, as if to herself, while they straggled around her and the thin fellow cut across the street to a comer drug store.
“Your bad luck is our good luck,” the bushy-browed fellow said.
“What’s your name, lad?” the sandy-haired slow-talking fellow asked.
“Lonigan.”
“Mine’s AI Coombs.”
“Boys, mine is Burke,” the bushy-browed fellow said.
“Well, that takes care of that,” the thin fellow said, short of wind, as he caught up with them.
“What’s your name, lad? Mine’s Al Coombs.”
“Cohen.”
“Sister, don’t take it so hard. This will never kill a girl. In fact, it’s harder on a guy than a girl, and it’s just a passing interlude that helps you out of a tough spot and is fun for all concerned,” Coombs said slowly, and she smiled grimly.
“We’re not the ape kind. It’s just going to be a nice little party, with everybody cooperating to have the best time we can. You’re married and know what it’s all about, and know it’s not going to hurt you. Just a little party to add to the glory of mankind,” Cohen said, and they laughed.
“Skip it, fellow!” she said.
“Sure, if you say so. I only just wanted to let you know we all had the right attitude about it,” Cohen said.
“Sure that hubby won’t be around to catch us?” said Coombs.
“No danger,” she answered decisively.
“It wouldn’t kind of look so right if he did. And he wouldn’t like it, would he? Ha! Ha!” Coombs said.
“He won’t be home until at least seven.”
“That’s O. K. by me, sister. I like your looks, and I don’t like to think of any irate husbands coming around to spoil our little round of fun,” Cohen said.
Studs caught her wincing. He felt like walking out. Hell, they were all taking advantage of her, and she didn’t like the idea of doing this. Her husband, too, he must be a tough, tow-headed bastard or she wouldn’t have propositioned them rather than tell him she’d lost the dough. Women were just too funny for his comprehension. Laying strangers, like a common whore, rather than tell her husband she’d lost the house dough on the ponies. Suppose the guy did come home? A mess then. But there were four of them, and this Coombs boy looked plenty big. And was she nice! Anticipating it made him feel just raring to go. He forgot everything else, and he tried to hold the image of her naked in his mind, her flesh soft and white.
“Play the races regular?” he asked, ranging himself on her left, wanting to make a better impression on her than the other lads might.
“Yes . . . but I never had such bad luck before as I had today. I lost on every single race.”
“It runs that way,” he philosophized sympathetically, thinking that he might tell her something about his own rotten luck with the stock.
“I know it. But this week has been my downfall,” she smiled. “And I thought that I had worked out a good system to win. Oh, well, it’s all in a lifetime.”
“Yeh, it’s all to be charged up to the school of experience.”
“If my husband knew it, he would darn near kill me. George has such a vile temper. And