Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [388]
Studs saw Katy hold her partner under the arms, again speaking. She locked his hands in back of her neck and dragged him, lightly slapping his face.
“That Jones dame is a tough gal. She’s always fighting with Honks Oliver,” a fellow to Studs’ right said.
“He’s an old no-good, always sleeping, and the poor girl has to carry him around,” the woman below said, flashing an angry glance at the fellow.
“My, some of the people who come here take it awfully seriously,” Catherine said very low, and Studs smiled, watching Katy Jones.
“Ouch,” Honks Oliver yelled as Katy suddenly bit his ear.
“Good for you! Bite him again, Katy!” the woman below them shouted, standing up and waving her purse.
“Looks like a nice row. I’m glad we stayed,” Studs said, while all over the hall people were shouting, laughing, talking with rising excitement.
“Well, I ain’t a bed or a pillow,” Katy said loudly while the referee and the contestants clustered around her and Honks Oliver.
“If I was Oliver, I’d sock that broad in her kisser. Hell, she sleeps on him, too,” the fellow beside Studs said.
“Wake up, Katy,” a woman cried shrilly from the stands.
The siren sounded. Katy and Oliver walked off the floor, followed by others, and a male attendant assisted Squirmy, whose face was besotted with sleep.
“We’ll wait until their rest is over and see what happens.”
“All right,” Studs yawned.
VI
A cheer broke over the hall when Katy Jones and Honks Oliver smiled at each other and joined the dragging parade.
A half dollar landed at Honks’ feet. He picked it up and handed it to Katy, who blew kisses toward the stands. Some dimes and nickels landed. The line wove around and around.
“Shall we go?” Catherine yawned.
“Yes, in a few minutes.”
“Squirmy is still asleep after his rest period.”
“He’s a clown,” Studs said.
“Yes, he’s vulgar,” Catherine said.
A bell sounded and the contestants danced to radio jazz. Ted Delancy and Doris Davis performed a tango in the center of the floor. At the end of three minutes, the marching line re-formed and Ted and Doris picked up the money thrown to them. A stout man arose in a box and waved to Doris. She walked over to him and he handed her a dollar. Katy Jones and Honks Oliver passed him, and he handed Katy a bill. Many cheered.
“Well, I guess we better blow,” Studs said.
“Yes, we’ll just wait a few more minutes and see if anything happens.”
They yawned.
“That fellow who just passed that dough out to Katy Jones, he’s been here for six days straight,” somebody to Catherine’s left said while Studs yawned.
“Ten after one,” Studs said.
VII
“We must go now, Bill,” Catherine said.
“Yeah, Kid. It’s a quarter to three.” They wormed to an aisle in the bleachers and walked downward. Studs watched Harold Morgan floundering.
“Poor Harold,” Catherine said behind him.
Harold catapulted forward. He straightened up and shook his head. He walked zigzag, lurched, lost his balance, and pitched face forward on a bench.
“Oh,” Catherine exclaimed, as the referee rushed to him.
Two male attendants appeared, Harold was lifted to his feet, his nose gushing blood. A woman fainted in the box. Nearly every spectator stood up, and there was a buzzing hum of conversation.
“Let’s wait and see if he’s seriously hurt. That was awful.”
“Yes, he looks badly cut up.”
Two ushers led past Studs the woman who had fainted. She was a stout greasy woman, and she was saying:
“That poor boy. Poor Harold. Poor Harold.”
Studs shook his head to stay awake, and Catherine leaned against him. The contestants trooped around, and Squirmy Stevens’ partner struggled to hold him up.
“Let’s sit there,” Catherine said, pointing at a vacant space near the bottom of the bleachers.
“Here he comes.”
They saw Harold Morgan step back onto the floor, grinning sheepishly, his face clean, and a plaster patch pasted above his left eye. The cheers were deafening, and without realizing what he was doing, Studs found himself cheering. Catherine tugged at his elbow. The cheers continued as he and Catherine walked out, and he wished he was Harold, standing