there.”
She was silent for half a block, then she said, “You expecting trouble?”
“Trouble’ll blow up sooner or later in a racket like this. I like to be prepared for it.” He pushed the Buick past a big truck, then he said, “You ain’t going to get scared?”
She shook her head. “I don’t scare easily.” She put her neat gloved hand to her throat. She was wearing a high-neck blouse. “Your friends were swell,” she said as an afterthought.
Duffy nodded. “I’m a heel all right,” he said. “I told Alice I was seeing you on the train for your home.”
Olga said, “You couldn’t let them in on this?”
Duffy shook his head. “They’ve got each other. They don’t give a damn for money; why should they? It’s punks like you and me that ain’t got anchors that think money’s the tops.”
She shot a quick glance at him. “You’re not feeling sore?” she ventured.
Duffy shook his head again. “No, not sore. I’ve started this, so I’m finishing it. If I don’t get away with it, it don’t matter. If I do, well, I’ll spend what I get, and think I’m having a swell time.”
She said in a low voice, “And me?”
Duffy put his hand on her knee. “You’re okay, baby, you’ll get what you want.”
He pulled up outside his apartment. “Come on in and see how you like your new home.”
They went upstairs, and she stood waiting for him to open the door. Inside the small apartment they stood and looked at each other, then she turned her head quickly and walked over to the window. “I like this,” she said. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
Duffy threw his hat on the chair and brought out a bottle of rum. “You like Bacardi?” he said.
“Yes, but it’s early yet, isn’t it?”
Duffy took two glasses and poured out the rum. He went over to her and put the glass in her hand. “To you and to me and to dough,” he said.
The Bacardi went down smooth, leaving a hot ball of fire burning inside them.
“Take your hat off, honey,” he said, “this is your home now.”
She said, “Is that the bedroom over there?”
“That’s it. Go ahead and have a look.” He was surprised to find his hands were trembling. He watched her walk slowly across the room and into the bedroom. Her long legs and flat hips had a lazy movement, but there was an electric tension that radiated from her.
He followed her and stood just behind her, looking at her in the mirror. She raised her eyes, studied his face, then she turned quickly.
He put his hands on her hips and drew her to him. “You’re swell,” he said. “I’ve known you twenty-four hours, but it seems a lifetime. I bet you’re bad. I bet you’ve loved, but I don’t care.”
She said, “I’ve been all that and more.” She took his hands in hers, held them for a moment, then pushed them away from her. She went over to the bed and sat down.
Duffy shifted away from the mirror and leant over the back of the bed. “We’ve got to get together,” he said. “Tell me about yourself.”
She turned her head and looked at him. “Isn’t it unwise?” she said.
Duffy shook his head. “I want to know,” he said.
“I was born in a small Montana town.” Her voice was flat and expressionless. “Living there was like living in a morgue. Nothing ever happened. The sun shone, the dust collected on the dry roads, carts came and went, nothing ever happened. I used to get fan magazines and read about Hollywood. Millions of other girls have done the same. I thought if I got to Hollywood, I’d get a break. I dreamed Hollywood, lived Hollywood, and I guess I even slept Hollywood. Well, one day I took my chance. I waited until my Pa had gone into the fields, then I took all his money—it wasn’t much—and I blew. I never got to Hollywood. My dough gave out when I hit Oakland. I got a job as a hostess in a dance hall there.”
Duffy came round and sat on the bed close beside her.
“I had to be nice to the men at the bar. Talk to them, kid them along, and get them to buy drinks. They paid me commission on the drinks. It didn’t last long. The boss called on me one night, and then I hadn’t anything to take care of after he had been over me. Well, you know how it is, once on the slide, you can’t stop.”
Duffy said, “How long ago was this?”
“About eight years. I was seventeen then. I ran into a guy named Vernor. How that guy kidded me! He certainly could paint a picture. He showed me how I could make money so fast that I’d get dizzy. Pretty clothes, motor-cars, jewellery, and all the rest of it. Just by selling myself three or four times a night. I fell for it. What did it matter, so long as I could get enough dough to get out of the game in a year or so?
“He got me into a house in Watsonville, one of the northern Californian towns, and once I was there I knew what a sucker I’d been. I just couldn’t get away. They never gave me any money. They kept my clothes from me. They threatened me with the police; in fact, they had me.”
Duffy grunted, “A sweet life you’ve had.”
She was silent for a moment, then she went on. “I didn’t see a white man for three years. Filipinos, Hindus and Chinks, yes, but no white man.”
Duffy moved restlessly. He didn’t like this.
“Just when I was giving up, along came Cattley. Can you imagine that? Cattley came into my room, and I was expecting another of those fierce little brown men. Cattley fell for me, and I gave him everything I had. He thought I could be useful to him, so he got me out of the place and set me up in that little house.”
Duffy said, “How could you be useful to a guy like Cattley?”
Her face hardened a little. “I’m telling you everything, aren’t I?” she said.
Duffy leant back on his elbows. “Sure, and it don’t sound so good.”
She lifted her shoulders wearily. “It isn’t good. In Cattley’s business he had to have a woman around. He got me to play hostess to his suckers. I got him introductions to the upper set. It was through me that he made so much money. Cattley was on the level with me. He gave me plenty.” She sighed, twisting her hands. “Now the poor mug’s dead.”
In the other room the telephone began to ring. Duffy made no move to answer it.
Olga said, “What’s the matter ? Don’t you want to answer it ?”
“Let it ring,” he said, looking at her.
The telephone stopped ringing.
She stood facing him, then she said, “Yes… yes… yes.”
He reached out and pulled her roughly to him. “I’m crazy about you,” he said, his lips hard against her throat.
The telephone began to ring again. It rang for a long time, then it stopped. A fly buzzed busily from room to room, hitting the window with distinct little plops.
On the bed, Duffy lay, his eyes half shut, feeling the muscles of his body running into liquid. Olga went to sleep. Duffy watched her. Time meant nothing to him. He was quite content to look at her. Her body was strong and white Her flesh was firm. He thought she looked good.
He put out his hand gently and touched her hair. She stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled at him.
Duffy said, “You’ve got me. You’ve got me hard.”
“I want to go away with you,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I want to get away from all this. You won’t let me down, now?” She said “now” very urgently.
Duffy shook his head. “It’ll be all right, you see.”
The telephone began to ring insistently.
Olga sat up. A little shiver ran through her. She said, “No, don’t go. Leave it.”
Duffy hesitated, then got off the bed. He looked at her for a moment, smiled, then went into the other room. He took the receiver off the prong.
“What is it?” he said sharply.
“Gleason talking,” came the harsh purring voice.
Duffy pulled a chair up and sat down. His eyes and mouth were suddenly hard. “Okay,” he said, “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“I’ve been ringing for some time.” There was just a hint of nerves in Gleason’s voice.
“Well, you got me now.”
