The Grifters

A nurse can't walk out on a patient.'

'You do not need a nurse. We both know it. At any rate, I have ceased to be a nurse to you.'

'But-but, damnit, Carol-'

She turned away from him, started for the door. He looked after her helplessly for a moment, then caught up with her and pulled her around facing him.

'Now, I'm not going to let you do this,' he said. 'There's no reason to. You need the job, and my mother and I both want you to have it. Why-'

'Let me go, please.' She pulled away from him, again moving toward the door.

Hastily, he placed himself in front of her. 'Don't,' he begged. 'If you're sore at me, okay; maybe you think you've got a right to be. But my mother's involved here. What will she think, I mean, what will I tell her when she comes home and finds you're-'

He broke off, reddening, realizing that he had sounded fearful of Lilly. A ghost of a smile touched Carol's lips.

'Your mother will be disappointed,' she said, 'but not surprised, I think. I have thought your mother did not understand you, but now I know that she does.'

Roy looked away from her. He said curtly that that wasn't what he meant at all. 'You've got some money coming to you, your wages. If you'll tell me how much…'

'Nothing. Your mother paid me last night.'

'All right, then, but there's still today.'

'For today, nothing. I gave nothing of value,' she said.

Roy let out an angry snort. 'Stop acting like a two-year-old kid, will you? You've got some money coming to you, and, by God, you're going to take it!' He snatched the wallet from his robe pocket, jerked out its contents and extended it toward her. 'Now, how much? What do I owe you for today?'

She looked down at the money. Carefully, shuffling through it with a finger, she selected three bills and held them up.

'Three dollars, yes? I have heard that was the usual price.'

'You seem to know,' he snapped. 'Aah, Carol, why-'

'Thank you. It is really too much.'

She turned, crossed the carpet to the door and went out.

Roy raised his hands helplessly, and let them drop to his sides. That was that. You couldn't square a beef with a stupe.

He went into the kitchen, warmed up some coffee and drank it, standing up. Rinsing out his cup, he glanced at the clock above the stove.

Lilly would be home in a few hours. There was something he must do before she got here. It wouldn't make this Carol thing all right with her, and it would mean tipping his hand, but it had to be done. For his own sake.

Dressing and going down to the street, he was just a little rocky. But not because there was anything wrong with him,only from his long inactivity. By the time he had gotten a taxi and reached his hotel, he felt as strong as he ever had.

He was a little embarrassed by his reception at the hotel. Of course, he'd always worked to make himself likable; that was an essential part of his front. But he was still warmed and vaguely discomfited at the way he was welcomed home (home!) by Simms and the owner's employees. He was glad that he didn't have to chump them; leave them up the creek, paddleless, where people who liked him were customarily left.

Flustered, he accepted their congratulations on his recovery, reassured them as to the present state of his health. He agreed with Simms that sickness came to all men, always inconveniently and unexpectedly, and that that was how the permanent waved.

At last, he escaped to his room.

He took three thousand dollars from one of the clown pictures. Then, having carefully replaced the picture on the wall, he left the hotel and went back to Lilly's apartment.

The place seemed strangely empty without Carol. Hungeringly empty as it always is when a familiar something or someone is no longer where it was. There is a haunting sense of wrongness, of things amiss. Here is a niche crying to be filled, and the one thing that will fill it will not.

Roaming restlessly from room to room, he kept listening for her, kept seeing her in his mind's eye. He could see her everywhere, the small stiffly-starched figure, the glossy tip-curling hair, the rose-and-white face, the small clean features, upturned in childlike innocence. He could hear her voice everywhere; and always he, you, was in what she said… Did he want something? Was there something she could do for him? Was he all right? He must always tell her, please, if he wanted anything.

'You are all right, yes? It would be terrible if I had given you hurt.'

He started to enter the bathroom, then came up short in the doorway. A towel was draped over the sink. Scrubbed, rinsed, and hung up to dry, but still faintly imbued with the yellowishness of washedout blood.

Roy swallowed painfully. Then, he dropped it into the hamper and slammed down the lid.

The long hours dragged by, hours that had always seemed short until today.

A little after dusk, Lilly returned.

As usual, she left her troubles outside the door; came in with an expectant smile on her face.

'Why, you're all dressed! How nice,' she said. 'Where's my girl, Carol?'

'She's not here,' Roy said. 'She-'

'Oh? Well, I guess I am a little late, and of course you're all right.' She sat down, made gestures of fanning herself. 'Whew, that lousy traffic! I could make better time hopping on one foot.'

Roy hesitated, wanting to tell her, glad of anything that would let him delay.

'How's your hand, the burn?'

'Okay,' she waved it carelessly. 'It looks like I'm branded for life, but at least it learned-taught-me something. Keep away from boobs with cigars.'

'I think you should have it bandaged.'

'No can do. Have to dip in and out of my purse too much. Anyway, it's coming along all right.'

She dismissed the subject carelessly, pleased but somewhat embarrassed by his unusual concern. As the room grew silent, she took a cigarette from her purse; smiled gayly, as Roy hurried to light it.

'Hey, now, it looks like I really rate around here, doesn't it? A little more of this, and-What's that?'

She looked down at the money he had dropped into her lap. Frowning, she raised her eyes.

'Three thousand dollars,' he said. 'I hope it's enough to square us up, the hospital bills and all.'

'Well, sure. But you can't- Oh,' she said tiredly. 'I guess you can, can't you? I hoped you were playing it straight, but I guess-'

'But you knew I wasn't,' Roy nodded. 'And now there's something else you've got to know. About Carol.'

14

From Sunset Strip, a muted, gradually increasing clamor floated up to Lilly's apartment, the sounds of the dinner hour and the early beginnings of the nightclubs' day. Earlier, from about four until seven, there had been the racket of the business traffic: trucks, heavy and light pickups, making their last deliveries of the day and