He looked at his watch again. Too early. But he couldn’t stay in the room. He was too keyed up to simply lie there and wait. He got up and put on his hat and coat again and went out, taking the briefcase with him. His car was parked on the street and he put the case into the trunk and then drove downtown and parked and went to a movie. He used his own money to pay for his ticket. He watched a double feature selection and was able to relax. When he came out, the snow was more than ankle deep and still falling. The wind had stopped blowing, though, and it felt warmer.
He walked back to his car and stood there, watching the people who passed. A young man and woman came by, laughing; they had their arms around each other. He spoke to them.
“What did you say?” the man asked.
“I asked you to come over here.”
“What for?”
“I have something for you.”
The man looked suspicious. “What do you want?” he asked.
“To give you a present.”
“A present?”
“Here.” Sarling held out a bundle of money he had taken out of his pocket.
“What’s that for?” the woman said.
“It’s a present.”
“No one gives money away,” the man said.
“I do,” Sarling said.
The man shrugged and looked at the woman. “It may be some newspaper gag or something,” he said. “But I’m sure not going to be the one not to take money.” He took the bundle of bills and looked at it. “How much is it?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
“What’s the catch?”
Sarling just shook his head and walked back to his car. He heard them call to him but he didn’t look around. He started his car and drove away. When he looked in the rear-view mirror, he saw them on the sidewalk, counting the money.
The streets were slick with snow and he didn’t want to drive very far. He turned off the main street so the man and woman to whom he had given the money wouldn’t see where he stopped, but then he parked and went in to the first bar he saw. He opened the trunk and took the briefcase in with him. It was warm inside the bar and crowded. A juke box was turned up loud and a Frank Sinatra record was playing. The room had a whiskey smell. He was glad of that. He didn’t like bars that smelled of beer and he didn’t like the people who went to them. There were only two women in the bar. Both of them had bleached hair. They gave him a sudden idea, an embellishment of his plan. He liked it and he was chuckling when he sat down on a stool. He ordered whiskey. When the bartender brought it, he slid it across the counter but held on to it and said, “That’ll be sixty cents, mister.”
Sarling laid the briefcase on the bar and opened it. “Take it out of one of those,” he said.
The bartender let go of the whiskey and stared at the money. “Judas,” he said. “Judas. That’s a lot of money.”
“I know it. Aren’t you going to take your sixty cents?”
“Don’t you know you could get into trouble showing that much money?”
“I don’t think I’ll have any.”
The people sitting near them had seen the money. The room grew quiet in waves as men told other men what was happening. There was a moment of tension but Sarling swung around on his stool and said, “Drinks are on me. Then I have something to do.”
A man down the bar broke open the silence by shouting, “What the hell, it’s his money. Let’s drink it up.” Everyone started laughing and talking again.
Sarling sipped his drink and watched them. One of the women walked over to him and said, “What are you doing with all that loot, honey?”
“Having a good time.” He smiled at her. “Would you like to have some of it?”
“Sure, sweetie, but I’m not cheap.”
“I don’t imagine you are.”
“Where do you want to go? I have a place.”
“No, not that.”
The second woman saw them talking and said, “Don’t do it, mister. She ain’t worth fooling around with.”
“Shut your mouth,” the first one shouted.
The men all laughed and the bartender said, “Take it easy. I don’t want no cat fights in here.”
“Sure,” said Sarling. “There’s plenty here for both of you.” He stood up and looked at them. “Listen. It’s worth a thousand dollars for me to see something. Five hundred each, cash in your hands.”
“What?”
“I want to see which one of you two is stronger. I want you to take turns hitting each other.” He grinned.
“You’re nuts,” one of the women said. “I don’t do nothing like that.”
“I will,” the other one said, “for five hundred dollars.”
The second woman hesitated and then nodded. “All right. I will too.”
The men were gathering around them in a large circle. Sarling made the two women stand facing each other. “Now you,” he said, pointing to the smaller of the two, “when I drop my arm, you slap her face. Then she’ll slap you. Then you slap her again. Keep at it until I say stop.”
The woman slapped the other and the men applauded. It wasn’t a hard blow but it made the second woman angry and when she slapped back it was harder, a stinging slap that cracked and made the woman who was hit gasp with pain.
The juke box had stopped; there was no sound except the blows being struck. The women’s hair came undone and flew wildly each time they struck. Their faces were red and one of them had a small line of blood at her lip.
The smaller woman, the one who had begun the game, started to cry.
“That’s enough,” Sarling said.
The men were cheering. The women panted heavily, staring at each other.
Sarling picked up the suitcase and threw it. The money scattered out. “Split it up,” he yelled and the men ran for it. He started to walk out but he stopped and looked at the women and said, “There it is. Go pick it up.” They looked at the men fighting for the money but they didn’t say anything.
At the door he turned and looked back at the two women. One of them was crying. The other was leaning over the bar, holding her head in her hands. “That was for you, Cindy,” he said softly. “You wanted money that badly, too. You would have done what those women did.”
He started his car and made a U-turn and drove back to the center of town. When he reached the square, he stopped and parked in the middle of the street and took the remaining bundles of money from his pockets and stacked them on the seat beside him.
One by one he stripped off the paper bands and threw the money out the window, letting the wind catch it. Cars stopped and people jumped out as they saw what was happening. People came running from the sidewalks. One man brought some of the money over to the car, intending to give it back, but Sarling just laughed and rolled up the window. He lit a cigarette and waited for the police.
It didn’t take them long to get there. A few people were still standing around, watching him, but most of them had grabbed what money they could and run. Two men got out of the patrol car and came over to him. He rolled down the window and said, “Hi there, you all.” He laughed.
“All right,” one of the officers said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m throwing money away.”
“That’s what we hear,” the cop said. “What are you doing it for?”
“That’s none of your business.”
They made him get out of the car and stand with his hands in the air while they searched him. They looked at his wallet but his name didn’t seem to make any impression on them. He was surprised at that.