Heller tasted it. “Hello, hello! Delicious!”
“You see,” said Cherubino, starting to take the bottle away. “You always were stupid, Bang-Bang.”
“Leave the bottle,” said Heller. “I want to copy the label. I’m so tired of soft cola I could burp!”
Cherubino said, “Bang-Bang and I used to stand off all the Greeks in Hell’s Kitchen together, so don’t get the idea we’re not friends, kid. But he was always stupid and when he came back from the war they’d made him even stupider and that’s impossible. See you around.” He left.
Bang-Bang was laughing. “Cherubino was my captain in that same war, so he ought to know.”
“What did you do in the war?” asked Heller.
“Me? I was a marine.”
“Yes, but what did you do?” said Heller.
“Well, they say a marine is supposed to be able to do anything. They have to handle all kinds and types of weapons so they specialize less than the Army and get shot at with more variety.”
“What training did you get?” said Heller.
“Well, it was pretty good. I started out real good. When I got out of boot camp, I went right to the top. They made me a gunship pilot.”
“What’s that?”
“Gunship, whirlybird, Green Giant, chopper. A helicopter, kid. Where you been? Don’t you ever see old movies? Anyway, there I was dashing about shooting the hell out of anything that moved on the ground and suddenly they sent me to a specialist school.”
“In what?”
“Demolitions.” Their meatballs and spaghetti had arrived. “Oh, well, hell, kid. We’re pals. I might as well tell you the truth. I crashed so many whirlybirds a colonel one day said, ‘That God (bleeped) Rimbombo shows talent but he’s in the wrong branch of the service. Send him to demolitions training school.’ I tried to point out that choppers full of bullets don’t fly well but there I went and here I am. Nobody else knows that, kid, so don’t spread it around.”
“Oh, I won’t,” said Heller. After a bit he said, “Bang-Bang, I want your opinion about something.”
Ah, now we were getting to it. This Heller was sneaky. I knew all the time he was not there for nothing. I was alert. Maybe he would antagonize Bang-Bang. He sets people’s nerves on edge. I know he does mine. Dangerous!
He was taking a form out of his pocket. It said:
It was an enrollment form.
“Bang-Bang,” said Heller, “look at this line here. It makes one promise to be faithful to the United States of America and support the Constitution. One is supposed to sign it. It looks like a pretty binding oath.”
Bang-Bang looked at it. “Well, that’s not the real oath. This next line here says you promise that when you graduate from the ROTC you will serve two years in the U.S. Army as a second lieutenant. Hmm. Yes. This is the junior or senior year form. Now, when you get out of the ROTC, they make you take the real oath. You stand up, hold up your right hand and repeat after them and get sworn in for real.”
“Well, I can’t sign this allegiance form,” said Heller. “And later, when I graduate, I can’t take any such oath.”
“I understand completely,” said Bang-Bang. “It’s true they’re just a bunch of crooks.”
Heller laid the form aside and ate some spaghetti. Then he said, “Bang-Bang, I can get you a job driving a car.”
Bang-Bang was alert. “With real social security, withholding tax and legit? That would satisfy the parole officer?”
“Absolutely,” said Heller. “By Tuesday I’ll have a corporation, all legal, and it can hire you as a driver. And that will beat your Wednesday deadline.”
“Hey!” said Bang-Bang. “And I won’t have to go back up the river!”
“There are a couple of conditions,” said Heller.
Bang-Bang looked even more alert.
“The driving itself won’t amount to much. But during the day you’ll have to run some errands. It isn’t really hard work and it’s actually in your line.”
Bang-Bang said, “Do I smell some catches in this?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t ask you to do anything illegal,” said Heller. “There are lots of girls around the place of work.”
“Sounds interesting. But I still smell a catch.”
“Well, actually, it isn’t much of a catch,” said Heller. “You’ve been a marine and know all about this sort of thing, so it’s no strain. What I want you to do, in addition to these other duties, is sign this ROTC form as J.
Terrance Wister, report to three classes a week and do the drill period.”
“NO!” said Bang-Bang, refusing utterly.
“They don’t know me by sight and I realize we look different, but if I know such organizations, all they’re interested in is somebody to yell ‘Yo’ when the roll is called and somebody to march around as part of the ranks.”
“NO!” said Bang-Bang. And of course he was right. He was a small Sicilian, a foot shorter than Heller, brunette where Heller was blond.
“If you keep telling people your name is Terrance, and if I keep getting people to call me Jet or Jerome, other students will think we are two different people but the computers will think there’s just one of us.”
“NO!” said Bang-Bang.
“You could give me the material they teach and coach me in the drills. I’d be earning the credits honestly.”
“NO!”
“I’ll pay you whatever you ask a week to do these other things and this and you won’t be sent back to prison.”
“Kid. It isn’t the pay. A couple hundred a week would be great. But it isn’t the pay. There are just some things one can’t bring himself to do!”
“Such as?” said Heller.
“Look, kid. I was a marine. Now, once a marine, always a marine. The Marines, kid, is the MARINES! Now, kid, the Army is a hell of a downstairs sort of organization. It is the Army, kid. Dogfaces. I don’t think you realize that you’re asking me to throw away all my principles. I couldn’t even pretend to join the Army, kid. I’d feel so degraded I wouldn’t be able to live with myself! And that’s everything, kid. Pride!”
They ate some more spaghetti.
There was a change of noise level. Bang-Bang looked toward the distant door. “Hey, a new show must have just let out. I think that commotion at the door must be the stars. Now watch this, kid. If it’s a great show, this whole crowd of diners here will applaud and if it was a flop, they’ll turn their backs.”
Heller looked. Johnny Matinee was half out of his chair, looking toward the door. Jean Lologiggida was craning her pretty neck. Three of the Sardine photographers, that had been running around taking flash pictures of diners for personal albums, got ready to shoot a big scene.
The buzz at the door increased. The crowd there parted.
In walked Police Inspector Grafferty, resplendent in full uniform!
The diners turned their backs on him with a groan.
“That’s Grafferty,” hissed Bang-Bang. “Got his nerve walking into a Corleone place. He’s in Faustino’s pay!”
Grafferty knew exactly where he was going. He was coming straight through to the back. To Bang-Bang’s table!
He stopped with his right side to Heller. His interest was in Bang-Bang. “The undercover cops in the street spotted you coming in here, Rimbombo. I just wanted to get one last look at your face before they sent you back up the river.”
But Heller was not looking at Grafferty. He had picked up the corner of the tablecloth and was tucking it into Grafferty’s coat pocket with a fork! What a crazy thing to do! Clearly showed he had a trivial mind.
“What’s this?” said Grafferty. He was reaching out for the bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold Label. “Hooch without a revenue seal on its cap! I thought I could find something if I just came…”