Therese said: “What’s up with you, honey? Don’t you feel well?”
The boy didn’t hear her. He was looking on to the dark square. Three soldiers were standing in the shadows. Now and then one of them moved, and the moonlight glinted on a naked bayonet. He hastily dropped the curtain and stepped back. His hot hands touched Therese’s bare arm, and he jerked away.
“Come on, honey,” Therese said, “let’s get it over. I got to get out again tonight.”
The boy stepped away from her voice, collided with the screen and abruptly sat on the bed. Before he could rise, Therese put her arms round him and drew him down. His hand touched the soft inner part of her thigh, and he stiffened with the horror of it.
She said, “I bet you ain’t had a woman before.” She said it quite kindly.
“Don’t touch me,” the boy almost whimpered; “getaway from me.”
Therese put her hand down on him. “Don’t be screwy. You got nothin’ to be scared of.”
Under her touch, a long-forgotten lust stirred in him. The quickening of his blood terrified him, and he threw her away from him so violently that she rolled on to the floor. He sat up in the dark. His shirt was plastered against his thin chest, and his eyes glared into the suffocating darkness.
For a moment there was a thick silence in the room, then she said, “All right, John, if that’s the way you want it.”
He swung his legs to the floor. “That’s not my name,” he said unevenly.
He heard her get to her feet and grope over to the table. “I don’t care a——what your name is, John. You’re gettin’ out of here quick.”
She struck a match and relit the lamp. She was quite naked, except for her shoes and stockings. The crumpled bills he had given her made a disfiguring lump in her leg. She adjusted the wick carefully and then turned. The boy saw she was furiously angry and he suddenly felt frightened of her. She mustn’t turn him out now. He would run into those soldiers, waiting outside for him.
He said hurriedly: “Don’t get mad. I don’t want it that way, see?”
She came and put her arms on the top of the bed rail. Her heavy breasts swung away from her olive-skinned body. “What way do you want it, John?” she said. She looked like the great grandmother of all the whores in Cuba.
“Can’t a guy feel lonely and talk to a dame?” he said, not looking at her. If she knew he was scared she would play hell with him.
Therese said, “You came here to talk?”
“Sure, can’t a guy pay you to talk to him?”
This got Therese. She ran her fingers through her thick, black hair. “I guess you’re screwy,” she said at last. “We ain’t got anythin’ to talk to each other about. You better get outta here.”
The boy slid off the bed and wandered to the window again. Maybe the soldiers had gone. He lifted the curtain a trifle and peered into the street. The shadowy silhouettes were still there. He straightened and backed away from the window. Therese watched him curiously. “What’s wrong?” she said. “Why do you keep lookin’ out of the window?”
The boy stood by the table. The ray of the lamp lit his white, pinched face. Therese could see a faint tick in his cheek.
She suddenly felt compassion for him. He looked so lonely and frigid.
“Aw, come on,” she said, “you’re just a kid. I’ll show you a good time.”
The boy shook his head.
Her patience snapped. “Listen, John,” she said, “if you don’t want it—get out. I’ve got a livin’ to make. You can’t come in here usin’ up my time like this.”
“My dough’s all right, ain’t it?” the boy said, squeezing up a little spark of vicious anger. “It pays for me to stay here, don’t it?”
Therese pulled on her dress and smoothed it over her big soft hips. “That dough’s about used up. What do you expect—an’ all night run?”
Someone rapped on the door. The boy slid across to Therese. He put one slender hand on her arm and his grip nearly made her cry out. His dead black eyes frightened her. “I’m not to be found here,” he said in her ear. “Look, I’ve got a gun.” He showed her the heavy Luger. “You’ll go with me.”
Therese was scared. She knew she had got herself mixed up in politics, and her mouth went suddenly dry. She said, “Get under the bed.”
The boy dropped on his hands and knees. He slid out of her sight. The knock sounded again on the door. She walked over and jerked it open.
The soldier looked at her with interest.
She flashed him a smile. “Why, honey, you just caught me. I was on my way.”
The soldier shifted uneasily. He was a family man and whores scared him. “You got a man in here?”
Therese shook her head. “Come on in. You got a little present for me?”
The soldier spat on the floor. “I ain’t wastin’ dough on a whore like you,” he snarled. “What were you doin’ foolin’ with the curtain?”
She laughed. “Don’t get sore, honey. I saw you boys out there an’ I thought you wanted some fun. Come on in.”
The soldier pushed past her and walked into the room. Therese felt her heart fluttering against her ribs. She knew that if the boy was found she’d have a bad time. She closed the door and went over to the soldier, who was looking round suspiciously. She put her arms round him. “Put your big gun down,” she said; “gimme a little somethin’. I’ll give you a good time.”
The soldier shoved her away angrily. “You better stay in tonight,” he said gruffly. “We’re lookin’ for the guy who killed General de Babar. The streets ain’t goin’ to be too healthy.”
The boy, lying flat under the bed, could see the soldier’s thick boots as he stepped to the door. He saw them hesitate, turn and come back. He saw them stand before Therese’s shoddy mules. Then he heard Therese catch her breath. She said: “No, you don’t. You gotta give me somethin’ first. Stop it, damn you! No, you can’t get away with this. You gotta give me somethin’.”
The thick boots pushed the shoddy mules across the room until they stopped against the wall. “You lousy, rotten bastard!” he heard her say.
The boy didn’t watch any more. He wanted to be sick.
Later, the soldier said: “If I catch anything after this, I’ll come back with a bullet for you.”
The boy heard him go out and slam the door. He crawled out from under the bed. Therese had gone into the little bathroom and had shut the door. He heard her running water.
When she came back, her face was wooden, but her eyes smouldered. The boy stood silently watching her. She was suddenly conscious of the heavy gun in his hand. She took one look at his set face, and she knew he was trying to make up his mind if he should kill her.
She said sharply: “Don’t look like that. It won’t get you anywhere.”
The boy had decided she was right, and he put the Luger in his hip pocket. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Terror had exhausted him.
Therese sat down beside him. “De Babar killed my husband,” she said. “I hate the whole goddam bunch of them. I’m glad you killed him. That lousy sonofabitch wanted killing.”
“I didn’t kill him,” the boy said tonelessly.
Therese went on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “If they get you, it’s goin’ to be tough. What are you goin’ to do?”
“I didn’t kill him, I tell you,” the boy said savagely.
“You don’t have to be scared of me,” Therese said, patiently. “I’m glad you killed him. I’ll get you out of here.”
The boy looked at her suspiciously. Her big eyes were quite tender. He wanted very much to smash his fist in her face. He got to his feet and walked away from her. His fury at being trapped like this made him physically sick. Her sudden sentiment sickened him.
She saw his uncertain look, and she misread it. “Aw, hell, you’re only a kid,” she said. “Don’t you worry. I’ll fix it for you.”
It took a great effort to control his voice. He said, “How?”
