Free Live Free

Candy nodded.

“Which one is it?”

Candy peered into the narrow room, trying to imagine what sort of coat a nurse might wear. “I don’t see it,” she said. “It’s dark blue and, you know, big.”

The weary woman nodded. “I think I remember it. You’ve been here a while, huh?”

“I guess so. There was the blackout and everything. He’s really very nice, except when he has too much to drink.”

“And you don’t have a hell of a lot of choice. Honey, I know how it is. Wait a minute.”

There was a bowl for tips at one side of the counter. While the weary woman’s back was turned, Candy took three dollars.

“Here you go. This’s it, right? Pretty lining in the hood.”

Candy nodded. “Thanks so much.” The coat looked large and warm, a silky blend of wool with some softer fiber.

“You got bus fare?”

She was afraid the weary woman would take it from the tip bowl and shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll go home in a cab.”

“Yeah, that would be better—on the bus, some creep might take advantage of you.”

“I’m all right,” Candy told her. “I just shouldn’t have had that last one.”

“You talk pretty good, but I keep thinking you’re going to fall down. Maybe you ought to go out in the lobby and sit for a while.”

“Okay, I’ll do that.” As she left the coat room, however, she was gripped by the conviction that she would forget the stolen coat when she got up, and struggled to get her arms into the sleeves before dropping into a providentially empty chair.

She thought she recalled Sweet’s face, but it was nowhere in sight. After a minute or two, she decided he might be screened from her by one of the rectangular imitationmarble-sheathed pillars. She tried to stand up; but when she should have been on her feet, she discovered she was still in the chair. Something wasn’t working, she decided. She would rest a bit and try again.

An elevator door opened, and the tall brunette who had been with Ozzie Barnes came out, followed by Barnes himself and Little Ozzie. Barnes went over to the registration desk and knocked down a tall man in a check suit. That’s done it, Candy thought, I’ve got the DT’s. She put her hands to her face to see if she could feel crawly things. It reminded her that her makeup must surely be gone. A crowd of people surrounded Ozzie and the tall man; faintly above the hubbub she could hear the solid crack of punches, but the liquor had erected its diaphanous, nearly impermeable curtain between her and reality: she was warm, languorous, and happy.

The crowd vanished and Ozzie with it, though she had never noticed its going. As though she had known all along they would be there, she took a compact and a lipstick from the right pocket of the blue coat. She had powdered and rouged her face and was applying the first dab of lipstick when Sweet sat down beside her.

“Well, hello,” she said. “It’s wonderful to see you!” To herself she sounded like Mae West in an old, old, late, late, late-night TV movie, and she giggled.

He misunderstood. “I know it took me a while. I wanted to freshen up, change clothes.”

“Me too, only I didn’t. John, am I getting this on straight?”

He looked at her judiciously. “Fairly straight.”

“I might as well tell you, because you’ll guess pretty soon if you haven’t already. I’m a little tippy.” Fearing he did not understand her, she added, “A little in the bag.”

“When you were on the phone, I thought you might be two or three ahead of me.” He smiled.

“You’re sweet.” She kissed him, then realizing what she had said, giggled again.

“Want to give me a chance to catch up at dinner?”

“Do I ever! I don’t think I’ve had a bite since you gave me that candy in the cab. I’m just absolutely, utterly, fabulously starved. I could eat a billy goat stuffed with soldier buttons.”

“You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.”

“I’m finding that out. Don’t you want to hear my adventures today?” She was still not sure she could stand up.

“Sure, and I want to tell you mine, but let’s do it over dinner. I’ve had them bring my car around.”

He stood, and she held out her hands to him. “I didn’t—urmp!—think you had a car.” A belch caught her unaware.

“I rented one. They’ve got an office here in the hotel.” With his hands to draw her up and steady her, she came out of the chair more easily than she had expected. “You didn’t tell me you were a nurse.”

“I guess I didn’t.” She and Stubb had made up some story, she knew, but it was lost in the warm, amber fog. “You didn’t tell me you were so strong, either,” she said. It seemed the right thing to say.

“I used to play football, believe it or not. Iowa State. Over this way.”

He had her firmly by the arm, and she was grateful for it, leaning on him with an uncontrollable heaviness. “I’ll be okay when I walk a little.”

“I’m sure you will. Did they call you back? To the hospital where you work?”

“That’s right. It wasn’t really an emergency—did I say that okay? Emergency. Well, it was, but we didn’t think