The Harder They Fall (34 page)

I pushed the trunk back into the closet again. It felt frighteningly insecure to be without my play. What was I now? Just what Beth said I was, just another guy working for Nick.

It was early in the morning when I found my way to Shirley’s. Lucille was cleaning the bar room and Shirley was playing solitaire.

‘Eddie,’ she said. ‘You look like hell. You look like the kid’s last fight. What in God’s name is the matter with you?’

‘The worst of them all,’ I said. ‘The biggest heel of them all. The only one who knew right from wrong and kept his goddam mouth shut. The only one who knew the score, knew what was going on and still kept his hands in his pocket. The worst, the worst, Shirley, the worst of all.’

Shirley came over and looked up into my face.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Forget it. It’s time for bed.’

When I awakened, the room was dark, the shades were drawn and I didn’t know whether it was day or night. All I knew was that there was a woman in bed with me, and for a moment I thought it was Beth. I fumbled for a match to light a cigarette, and when I lit it I realised with a shock that I was in the room into which Sailor Beaumont and other beaten fighters had crawled in search of solace and relief from pain.

Shirley? What was I doing with Shirley? Shirley never went to bed with me. Shirley only took to bed her badly beaten fighters. Just a succession of substitutes for the Sailor. Everybody knew that.

I know the goddam trouble with me, I thought. Enough brains to see it and not enough guts to stand up to it. Thousands of us, millions of us, corrupted, rootless, career-ridden, good hearts and yellow bellies, living out our lives for the easy buck, the soft berth, indulging ourselves in the illusion that we can deal in filth without becoming the thing we touch. No wonder Beth wouldn’t have me. A heel, she called me, a heel, the biggest heel of all.

‘I know the goddam trouble with me,’ I suddenly said aloud.

‘Eddie, honey, what’s the matter with you? Stop fighting yourself. Whatever it is, don’t worry about it,’ Shirley said quietly.

Her bare arm went around my neck and her generous breasts pressed against me soothingly.

‘Go to sleep now. You’ll feel better when you get up.’

But even as I floated off into warm, cowardly sleep, I realised why it was that she had taken me into her bed at last.

B
UDD
S
CHULBERG
grew up in Hollywood, his father being one of the founders of the Hollywood film industry. His novels include the legendary
What Makes Sammy Run?, On The Waterfront, The Disenchanted, The Harder They Fall
and
Everything That Moves.
He died in 2009.

The Harder They Fall
The Disenchanted
On the Waterfront

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