Solomon's Vineyard (3 page)

“Hello ...” I said.

Her eyes were blue-green. “Thanks,” she said. “That's all right.”

“I could have handled him,” she said. “Sure,” I said. “But I thought
it would be a good way to pick you up.”

She laughed at that. “I'm a popular dame tonight.” The bartender put
my drink on the bar.

“Have one?” I asked her.

“Why not?” she said.

While we waited for the drink she stared at me. Her eyes weren't bold
any more, but thoughtful. She was younger than I'd figured. When she
saw I was watching her, she looked away.

“Why'd you want to pick me up?” she asked. “I'm lonely,” I said; “and
you got a swell shape.” She took the Tom Collins from the bartender.
“Well, my God!” she said. “At least the man's honest.” She held up the
drink. “Here's how.”

She liked her liquor all right. We had three drinks. I saw it was
nine o'clock. I said it was time for dinner. I asked her if she knew of
a cool place to eat.

“Tony's,” she said. ''But
you
don't want to take me there.”

“Why don't I?”

“You just don't.”

“Yes, I do,” I said.

The bartender looked as though he didn't care about what was going
on. I saw him shake his head at the girl. She didn't pay any attention
to him. “Got a car?” she asked me. “I'll get one.”

“And you don't give a damn what happens?”

“Not with you, beautiful.”

“Don't start that beautiful stuff.”

“I wouldn't go,” the bartender said. “What can Hose?” I asked.
“Plenty,” the bartender said. “Shut up,” the girl said.

I grinned at the bartender. “Well, it's your funeral,” he said.

“Sure,” the girl said.

The check was $7.10. I paid it and we took a cab to a Drive-It garage
on Main Street. On the way she told me her name was Ginger.

“Not Ginger Rogers?” I said.

“Ginger Boiton,” she said.

I said my name was Karl. I said she smelled nice. I asked her where
she got the perfume and the expensive clothes.

“I get around,” she said.

I told her I was a hardware salesman.

“You act tough for a salesman,” she said.

“That's because I was in the army.”

I got a Chevy sedan at the Drive-It garage. I had a card identifying
myself as Peter Jensen, u Division Street, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin; but
the night manager made me lay down a hundred dollar deposit anyway.
When Ginger saw my wallet she looked surprised. I expected her to. I
went to a lot of trouble to let her catch sight of the wad of
hundred-dollar bills in it.

I let her drive out to Tony's. I wanted to look at the town. It
wasn't much to see. The street lights were dim and all I-got was an
impression of many brick and frame houses kept back by lawns from the
street. We passed a hospital and the city pumping plant. Then we were
in the country. It was cooler. I looked at Ginger. She was intent on
her driving and her face was not so sullen.

“What's a girl do in a town like this?” I asked her.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“You'd get sore if I told you.”

“Yeah?” she said. “Well, I'm a singer.”

“What kind?”

“With an orchestra.”

“Where?”

“At Tony's. He's going to open up next week.”

“How much will he pay you?” I asked.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she said.

She had a husky voice and I thought she'd probably sing well.

We went off the cement road on to a gravel road. We passed n small
lake and turned into a big parking lot. There were half a dozen cars
there. I saw a big farmhouse with a neon sign on it:
Tony's.
We
went up wooden stairs to the entrance and came into an old-fashioned
bar with a big mirror, two bartenders in shirtsleeves, and pyramids of
glasses. One of the bartenders said “Hello, Ginger,” and then looked at
me. He seemed surprised to see me.

“Where's Pug?” he asked Ginger.

“How do I know?” Ginger said.

The bartender glanced at me. I looked dumb.

We had a drink at the bar. I said I wanted to order dinner and the
bartender got a waiter. We ordered steaks and green salad. I ordered a
bottle of. champagne. That made both Ginger and the bartender look at
me. After a while we went out to a veranda overlooking the lake. There
was a breeze off the water. The waiter showed us our table.

“This is swell,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ginger said. “But where's our champagne?”

The waiter brought it in an ice bucket. I had him bring a bottle of
cognac, too. I poured some of the cognac in the champagne glasses and
the waiter put champagne on top. There is nothing that gives you a rear
like champagne laced with good cognac. Try it some time. We drank
slowly.

“Who's Pug?” I asked Ginger. I wanted to hear what she would say.

“A friend.”

“Anybody to worry me?”

“No'.”

“I'm glad,” I said. “I'm steaming up for you.”

“He's a louse,” Ginger said.

There were people at three tables. One party was large; three men and
five women. At the other tables were couples. The big party was noisy
and two of the women were climbing all over a red-faced fat man. I
thought he looked familiar, but I couldn't see him very well. The
cuddling was strictly fun on the surface but the women were really
trying for the fat man. He was giving the party.

“Do you think you could go for me, beautiful?” I asked Ginger.

“Not tonight,” she said.

“Tomorrow?”

“Let's dance.”

I stuck a nickel in the jive box and we danced Some or the other
people danced, too. I noticed one of the women had cot the fat man on
the floor. Suddenly I recognized him. It was the chief of police.
Piper. He was pretty drunk. Ginger danced away from me.

“Don't be so distant,” I said.

“That gun of yours tickles me where I don't like to be tickled,” she
said.

I pushed the holster further under my arm. She danced closer, putting
her head on my shoulder. Her body was firm.

“That's better,” I said.

“Don't talk,” she said. “Dance.”

We danced until the record stopped, and then we went back to the
table. I noticed one of the bartenders and the waiter watching us. When
they saw me look at them, the bartender ducked into the other room and
the waiter came over and poured us more brandy and champagne. Then he
got our dinner.. The steaks were good; burned a little on top, but red
inside. I was having a good time. There were only three things I really
liked in the world; food, fighting and . . . women. Oh yes, and maybe
liquor. And I was having at least two of them.

“How about another bottle of champagne?” I asked.

“Why spoil good brandy?” Ginger said.

We drank about half the bottle of brandy. The big party at the table
near the bar-room door kept getting noisier. The liquor didn't seem to
affect Ginger, but she got a little more sociable. She told me she'd
worked in the chorus at Harry's New York Bar in Chicago, and then had
sung at a Chinese joint on the North Side. She'd also done a little
radio singing. Her face wasn't sullen when she was talking about her
work. She was really interested in singing.

“Ever think of the movies?” I asked.

“Don't pull that,” she said. “I used to work in Hollywood,” I said.
“When do you want me to start taking my clothes off?” she asked.

“The hell with it,” I said. “I was just making conversation.”

“I'd rather dance.”

I said “Okay.” I put a dime in the box and we danced again. She
danced close to me, her body flat against mine, but I had a feeling
there was nothing personal in it. I liked it anyway; her body was so
young. When we got back to the table I asked if there was gambling in
the place. “Craps,” she said. “In the back.”

“Let's try our luck.”

“All right.”

We went across the bar and then through a big dining-room with a
dance floor. There was a raised place for a band. “They open this next
week,” Ginger said. Back of the floor was a door. We went through that
into a room with thick green carpet and green drapes pulled close over
the windows. There was a crap table and six slot machines. One of the
slot machines was for silver dollars. I hadn't seen one that big since
Reno. I put a dollar in it and pulled the crank. A lemon showed. A dark
man with a green visor came into the room. He looked at us
questioningly. I gave Ginger a twenty-dollar bill.

“Try your luck,” I told her.

She was surprised at the bill. “I don't get you,” she said. “No?”

“No,” she said. “You talk like a drummer for ladies' hosiery, with
your Hollywood stuff. But you don't act it.”

“Don't let it worry you, beautiful,” I said.

She got a double handful of silver dollars for the bill. Then the
dark man gave her some dice. “Let's see,” I said. I took the dice and
gave them a couple of rolls and then I held them up to the light. They
were all right.

“We run a square game,” the dark man said.

“Thanks for telling me,” I said.

Ginger did all right. She made three points before she crapped out. I
won ten bucks on a come bet, but when I tried the dice I threw snake
eyes, a ten and a seven in three rolls. I was very cold. As Ginger
started to roll again, the chief's party came in and began to play too.
The dark man gave them silver dollars. One of the women called him
Dave. They all looked curiously at Ginger and me. The two women were
still hanging on to the fat chief. He was drunk and his face was bright
red and he seemed to have a lot of money He kept forking it out in
twenties to the gals, not caring how much they lost. Once I saw one of
them, a dark-haired woman about thirty, slip a twenty between her
breasts. She saw me watching her and smiled, and I turned back to
Ginger. She'd just lost the dice. The chief was reaching out for them,
but I got there first.

“My turn,” I said.

He looked at me, but he didn't recognize me. He was too drunk.

THE CRAP game began to grow. Another couple joined it, the man
tossing out quarters, and a few minutes later a sour-looking guy in a
double-breasted blue suit wandered into the room. He watched for a
while and then he began to play, acting as though he was dubious about
the game. His face was freshly shaved and powdered, but blue-black
stubble showed on his jaws. He looked like a Greek. I figured he worked
for the house, but it was all right. Ginger was so hot it didn't matter
who was in the game.

She had the dice. When she shook them her body shook, too, and it was
exciting to see her press against the table to read the numbers. The
table caught her just below the hips. She threw for a long time and
finally made her point. She left the money on the table and threw a
seven. It was hard to read the numbers because of the smoke in the
room. She let all the money ride and threw an eight. She didn't look
sullen any more. She smiled at me.

“An eighter from Decatur,” she said.

She did it the hard way: four and four. The Greek had bet against
her, and he said something angrily. Ginger drew fifty dollars and let a
hundred ride. The Greek laid twenty against her. She rolled a seven.
She drew a hundred and let a hundred sit. The Greek muttered again and
took the dice from her. He pulled some other dice from his pocket and
dropped them on the table.

“Let's go,” he said.

I took his dice and tossed them through the door to the dining-room.
I heard them roll across the dance floor. The Greek's eyes got
thin-looking, but he didn't move.

“Some house dice,” I said.

The man back of the table took his time. He pushed aside the box
where he had found the first dice and got a pair from another box. I
took those and threw them away, too.

“From the first box.”

He took a pair out of the first box. He looked scared. He glanced at
the Greek, but the Greek didn't say anything. I gave the dice a couple
of rolls. They were okay. I gave them to Ginger.

The Greek stared at me. “Tough guy, hey?”

“Yeah.”

Ginger threw the dice against the backboard. They came up eleven.
Then she tossed a seven. She was a tropical heatwave. Her next point
was nine and she had to throw for it. I watched her. Her body went into
curves every time she pitched the dice. She got the nine, sucked three
hundred dollars, and then lost the dice. I figured she was six or seven
hundred ahead. The Greek took the dice. Ginger started to bet with him
against the house. There was no sense in that. I shook my head at her,
but she went ahead anyway. She bet twenty dollars and lost it. She
stopped belting. After a while the dice got around to her again. She
had her point, nine, when three men came into the room. She looked tin,
shaking the dice, and what she saw froze her hand. She stood with the
dice in her hand.

“Hello Ginger,” one of the men said.

“Didn't expect me, did you, Ginger!”

“No.”

Nobody moved around the crap table. I felt glad the chief of police
was there until I saw his face. The man turned his eyes on me; then
came towards me, walking with a limp. One of his friends had his hand
in his pocket, hither his finger or a pistol made a point under the
cloth. He looked tough. I thought it was probably a pistol.

“He careful, Pug,” said the man behind the table.

Pug stopped in front of me. His face came about to my neck. He
snarled. “You the guy with Ginger?”

“
^Yes.
“

“Do you know whose babe she is?”

“No.”

“Like hell.”

“No.”

“Well, she's mine.”

“She didn't mention it,” I said.

He laughed. It was more like a bark than a laugh. I saw one of his
front teeth had been broken. It had turned dark. He came a step closer.
I backed away. I didn't want to start a play with three or maybe more
toughs against me. I looked at the chief of police. He was still
scared. Ginger seemed a little pleased, as though she'd ^planned it.
Maybe she had. Maybe she wanted to make Pug jealous.