the Big Bounce (1969) (6 page)

Ryan smiled and laughed a little bit, but he wasn't picturing any Polacks eating corn; he was watching the dark-haired girl coming back from the ladies' room, recognizing her and suddenly having a funny feeling shoot through him from his scalp right down to his hind end.

Ryan let the smile fade and said, You know Bob Rogers, works for Ritchie?

With a heavy knuckle Mr. Majestyk was wiping the moisture from his eye. Bob Junior? Sure, his old man and I play pinochle.

He's down at the end of the bar.

Mr. Majestyk glanced around. Yeah, I see him.

Who's the girl with him?

Now Mr. Majestyk straightened and looked over his shoulder again. He came back slowly, gazing around, so no one would think he was staring. He took a sip of beer. That little lady's in some trouble.

Who is she?

I forget her name. Nancy something. She's supposed to be like a secretary to Ritchie, but that's a bunch of crap.

He keeps her here?

That's the word, buddy. He keeps her.

Whereabouts?

In this place he's got on the beach. His wife comes up, he moves the broad over to his hunting place up by the farm.

She looks young.

How old do you have to be?

I mean for him. Ritchie.

Ask him how should I know?

What's she doing with Bob Junior?

Mr. Majestyk glanced around again. That dumb bastard. He's got a good job, a nice family, a speedboat. His old man leases all the cucumber land to Ritchie Food and all Bob Junior's got to do is work the crews

He's a horse's ass.

Mr. Majestyk shrugged, making a face. He's all right, he's a big kid. He thinks he's the Lone goddamn Ranger or something.

You said the girl was in some trouble.

Reckless driving. She's got to appear in my court sometime next month.

What's so bad about that?

Mr. Majestyk leaned over the table on his forearms. I'm not talking about running a red light. She almost killed a couple of kids.

You know it was her fault?

All right. These two Geneva boys are out in their car, a piece of junk just riding around looking to raise some hell, you know, or somebody to race. They spot the broad cruising along in her Mustang, so naturally they pull up alongside and start giving her the business, making remarks, asking her if she wants to race or go in the bushes, I don't know.

So what happened?

Well, they don't get a rise out of her, so they pass and go on wherever they're going. But a couple of miles later they've turned off the Shore Road and they're on this county road, gravel, and they see these lights coming up behind them. They expect the car to pass, but the car doesn't pass, it bangs into their rear end. They don't know what's coming off. They speed up and the car it's the broad gets right on their bumper and guns it. These guys they try to go faster, they try to shake her off, you know, swerving, but she hangs on and now she's pushing them sixty, seventy miles an hour.

Yeah?

They try to brake and they burn the linings right off. They can't do anything, this crazy broad keeps pushing, gunning it, and she's going a good seventy they both swear to it when she backs off. She must have seen it: the road dead-ends at a crossroad and beyond is this plowed field. Well, these guys try to swerve, they fly over the ditch and hit the plowed field and roll over three times.

What happened to the guys?

One of them's okay, a few cuts. The other kid's got two broken legs and some internal injuries.

How'd they know it was her?

They saw her, for Christ sake.

I mean they could be lying.

Yeah, with her front end all banged the hell in.

Nancy said, I thought you told him to leave.

Who?

She brushed the hair from her eye, nodding toward Ryan's table. The one today. You know.

Son of a gun. I don't believe it,
Bob Jr. said.

As Bob Jr. looked around, his broad back, the checkered shirt tight across his shoulders, was close to her and she rested her hand lightly on his arm.

He's taking his time about it, isn't he?
the girl said.

He's taking more'n I gave him.

Maybe he's decided to stay.

He'll leave if I got to run him down the highway with a stick.

Maybe he's not afraid of you.
She ran her hand up his arm to the shoulder. Look what he did to the Mexican.

He doesn't have to be afraid,
Bob Jr. said. Just have some sense.

Are you going to talk to him?

If he isn't out of here before we leave.

I'm ready anytime,
Nancy said.

Mr. Majestyk was studying his glass. He said, Listen, what I was thinking what if you came to work at the Bay Vista?
He looked up at Ryan, as if surprised at what he had said. Hey, what about it? Forty bucks a week no, I'll pay you fifty, also you get room and board, nice room you can fix up.

Doing what?

Anything needs to be done. Painting, taking care of the beach, repairs. I got this arthritis in my hands. See them knuckles?

For the rest of the summer?

Rest of the summer, maybe longer. I'm thinking of staying open for hunting season. Get these guys up from Detroit, give them nice rooms, feed them. You ever cook any?

I worked in a place once. Like a White Tower, only bigger.

You cook, huh?

Fry chef.

After hunting season, I don't know. If we had good hills for the skiers, but that's all up by Petoskey.

Who's there, just you and your wife?

She's been dead two years. But my daughter, she lives in Warren, comes up a couple times a year with the kids. Ronnie and Gayle boy, those kids. It was my daughter fixed the place up for me, you know, picked out the drapes and the studio couches and all the pictures, everything.

Yeah, well I don't know.
The girl with Bob Jr., Nancy, was looking at him again and it gave him a funny feeling, as if, like the waitress in the red pants, she knew all about him. More than he knew about her. He watched her slide off the bar stool and he watched Bob Jr. stand up and look right at him.

Mr. Majestyk leaned into the table. Do you want me to tell you something?

Just a second. I think we got company.
Mr. Majestyk straightened and looked up as Bob Jr., coming first, edging past the people at the bar, reached the table. The girl stood by the bar, waiting for him.

What're you trying to pull?
Bob Jr. said to Ryan. Are you trying to get cute with me?

Jesus Christ,
Mr. Majestyk said. Who would want to get cute with you?

Hi, Walter.
Bob Jr. was serious. He didn't smile.

Hey, where's your Lone Ranger hat?

Walter, you mind if I have a word with this guy?

Let me see,
Mr. Majestyk said. Yes, I think I would.

Bob Jr. was looking at Ryan, not listening to Majestyk. You know what I told you this morning. I said at the time I wasn't going to tell you again.

Then, what are you telling him for?
Mr. Majestyk asked.

Bob Jr. said to Ryan, We better step outside a minute.

Mr. Majestyk moved his hand across the table toward Ryan. Stay where you are.

Walter, this is company business.

What company? Does he work for your company?

We paid him off and he agreed to leave,
Bob Jr. said. On the strength of that agreement, I'm going to see he lives up to his end.

Hey, Bob,
Mr. Majestyk said, don't give me any agreement crap, all right? You paid him because you owed him the dough. Now he don't work for you anymore and there isn't anything you can do to make him leave if he don't want to.

Walter, you're a friend of my dad's and all, but this is between me and him.

Ryan finished the beer in his glass and poured it full again. He was keeping a good hold, but it was almost too much, and it would be easy to let go, Bob Jr. standing close to the table with his hands on his hips and his big silver cowboy belt buckle shining level with his eyes.

Ryan said, not looking up, Why don't you quit standing there? Why don't you and your friend sit down and have a beer?

Mr. Majestyk smiled. Now, that's a nice suggestion. Bob, what do you say? It's early.

We've had ours. We're leaving now and I expect this fella's leaving the same time we are.

Ryan looked up at him. He said, Don't press it, all right? Not anymore.

Listen, boy, if I didn't have somebody with me, I'd pick you up and carry you out.

No you wouldn't,
Ryan said.

Mr. Majestyk was watching him. His gaze shifted to Bob Jr. and he said, not hurrying it but before Bob Jr. could say anything, I invited this guy to have a beer with me. I'm not through yet and he's not through. Maybe we'll have a couple more pitchers, maybe we'll have ten more. I don't know. But what I want to know is if you're going to stand there until we're finished.

Walter, I told this guy this morning what he had to do.

Fine, you told him. Now, Bob, either sit down or stand someplace else, all right?

You're saying I'm butting in. Walter, I'm saying this guy and I have business.

Let's say we're both right,
Mr. Majestyk said, and neither of us will give in to the other. Meanwhile you left that nice-looking young lady standing by herself. Is that nice, Bob? What would your father say? What would your wife say?

Bob Jr. hesitated long enough to show them he wasn't being forced into anything he didn't want to do. And when enough time had passed, looking at Ryan and slowly moving his gaze to Mr. Majestyk, he said, I'll run her home, but don't be surprised if you see me again.
He had to give Ryan another look before turning away.

The girl waited with her arms folded, watching Ryan, then looking up at Bob Jr.'s tight, serious expression as he came toward her. She said, Wow,
and walked out ahead of him.

Do you want to know something?
Mr. Majestyk said. His eyes were a little watery; he was feeling the beer, but he spoke quietly, well enough controlled. You probably wonder why I want to hire you. Why you. Do you want me to tell you why?

Go ahead,
Ryan said. The guy was going to tell him anyway.

This might sound nuts, I don't know, but I saw the movies, right? And I talked to the sheriff's cops about you and I said to myself, 'That's a good kid. He stands up. Maybe he's had a rough life, bummed around, and had to work. No chance to go to college, no trade ' You don't have a trade, do you?

Not that pays anything.

Right,
Mr. Majestyk said. No college education, no trade. I think to myself, 'What's he going to do? He's a good one. He's got something other guys don't have. The son of a bitch stands up. But listen, I know this. It isn't easy always to keep standing up. I mean, it's better if you got somebody to help you once in a while. You understand what I mean?

Just picturing the girl standing there, waiting by the bar, and the way she looked at him before she walked out, gave him the funny feeling again.

Do you understand what I mean?

Yeah, I understand.

So I said to myself, 'Do you want to see him throw his life away, bumming around, getting into trouble, or you going to help him? Give him an opportunity, a place to live, something to do.'

That's what you said to yourself.

Maybe not in those words.

I go to work at the Bay Vista.

Say till Labor Day, then we see what happens.

Janitor at a motel.

Not a janitor.

Handyman. I become your handyman and I'm all set.

Listen, I'm not giving you anything. You come to work for me you work. Maybe I find out you're a bum and I got to throw you out.

If I take the job.

If you take the job, right.

You going to protect me from Bob Junior too? See nothing happens to me?

Mr. Majestyk stared at him. He did not move or show anything in his eyes, though a line seemed to tighten down the sides of his nose. He sat hunched forward, not taking his eyes from Ryan, and finally he said, You can stand up, but Jesus Christ you're dumb, aren't you?

I never asked you to stick up for me.

Forget it,
Mr. Majestyk said. All right?
He said it quietly, his expression dead. I'm going home. Come with me or stay, I don't care. If you feel like it, think over what I said and if you want to work, come by my place tomorrow morning eight o'clock. If you don't want to, don't. Either way you'll do what you want.

He went to the bar to settle their bill and walked out without looking back.