"It was a pop-up. We both went for it."
"What is this 'pop-up'?"
"Whoever gets it, gets it."
"So you got the 'pop-up'?"
"Yes."
"But how can this 'pop-up' help us? The Jewish lawyer will still have the broken arm on his side."
I got up and walked back to my bedroom to wait for dinner. My father hadn't said anything. He was confused. He was worried about losing what little he had but at the same time he was very proud of a son who could break somebody's arm.
43
Jimmy Hatcher worked part time in a grocery store. While none of us could get jobs he could always get one. He had his little movie star face and his mother had a great body. With his face and her body he didn't have trouble finding employment.
"Why don't you come up to the apartment after dinner tonight?" he asked me one day.
"What for?"
"I steal all the beer I want. I take it out the back. We can drink the beer."
"Where you got it?"
"In the refrigerator."
"Show me."
We were about a block away from his place. We walked over. In the hallway Jimmy said, "Wait a minute, I've got to check the mail." He took out his key and opened the lock box. It was empty. He locked it again.
"My key opens this woman's box. Watch."
Jimmy opened the box and pulled out a letter and opened it. He read the letter to me. "Dear Betty: I know that this check is late and that you've been waiting for it. I lost my job. I have found another one, but it put me behind. Here's the check, finally. I hope that everything is all right with you. Love, Don."
Jimmy took the check and looked at it. He tore it up and he tore the letter up and he put the pieces in his coat pocket. Then he locked the mailbox.
"Come on."
We went into his apartment and into the kitchen and he opened the refrigerator. It was packed with cans of beer.
"Does your mother know?"
"Sure. She drinks it."
He closed the refrigerator.
"Jim, did your father really blow his brains out because of your mother?"
"Yeah. He was on the telephone. He told her he had a gun. He said. If you don't come back to me I'm going to kill myself. Will you come back to me?' And my mother said, 'No.' There was a shot and that was that."
"What did your mother do?"
"She hung up."
"All right, I'll see you tonight."
I told my parents that I was going over to Jimmy's to do some homework with him. My kind of homework, I thought to myself.
"Jimmy's a nice boy," my mother said. My father didn't say anything.
Jimmy got the beer out and we began. I really liked it. Jimmy's mother worked at a bar until 2 a.m. We had the place to ourselves.
"Your mother really has a body, Jim. How come some women have great bodies and most of the others look like they're deformed? Why can't all women have great bodies?"
"God, I don't know. Maybe if women were all the same we'd get bored with them."
"Drink some more. You drink too slow."
"O.K."
"Maybe after a few beers I'll beat the shit out of you."
"We're friends, Hank."
"I don't have any friends. Drink up!"
"All right. What's the hurry?"
"You've got to slam them down to get the effect."
We opened some more cans of beer.
"If I was a woman I'd go around with my skirt hiked up giving all the men hard-ons," Jimmy said.
"You make me sick."
"My mother knew a guy who drank her piss."
"What?"
"Yeah. They'd drink all night and then he'd lay down in the bathtub and she'd piss in his mouth. Then he'd give her twenty- five dollars."
"She told you that?"
"Since my father died she confides in me. It's like I've taken his place."
"You mean…?"
"Oh, no. She just confides."
"Like the guy in the tub?"
"Yeah, like him."
"Tell me some more stuff."
"No."
"Come on, drink up. Does anybody eat your mother's shit?"
"Don't talk that way."
I finished the can of beer in my hand and threw it across the room.
"I like this joint. I might move in here."
I walked to the refrigerator and brought back a new six-pack.
"I'm one tough son-of-a-bitch," I said. "You're lucky I let you hang around me."
"We're friends, Hank."
I jammed a can of beer under his nose.
"Here, drink this!"
I went to the bathroom to piss. It was a very ladylike bathroom, brightly colored towels, deep pink floormats. Even the toilet seat was pink. She sat her big white ass on there and her name was Clare. I looked at my virgin cock.
"I'm a man," I said. "I can whip anybody's ass."
"I need the bathroom, Hank…" Jim was at the door. He went into the bathroom. I heard him puking.
"Ah, shit…" I said and opened a new can of beer. After a few minutes, Jim came out and sat in a chair. He looked very pale. I stuck a can of beer under his nose.
"Drink up! Be a man! You were man enough to steal it, now be man enough to drink it!"
"Just let me rest a while."
"Drink it!"
I sat down on the couch. Getting drunk was good. I decided that I would always like getting drunk. It took away the obvious and maybe if you could get away from the obvious often enough, you wouldn't become obvious yourself. I looked over at Jimmy.
"Drink up, punk."
I threw my empty beer can across the room.
"Tell me some more about your mother, Jimmy boy. What did she say about the man who drank her piss in the bathtub?"
"She said, 'There's a sucker born every minute.'"
"Jim."
"Uh?"
"Drink up. Be a man!"
He lifted his beer can. Then he ran to the bathroom and I heard him puking again. He came out after a while and sat in his chair. He didn't look well. "I've got to lay down," he said.
"Jimmy," I said, "I'm going to wait around until your mother comes home."
Jimmy got up from his chair and started walking toward the bedroom.
"When she comes home I'm going to fuck her, Jimmy."
He didn't hear me. He just walked into the bedroom. I went into the kitchen and came back with more beer.
I sat and drank the beer and waited for Clare. Where was that whore? I couldn't allow this kind of thing. I ran a tight ship.
I got up and walked into the bedroom. Jim was face down on the bed, all his clothes on, his shoes on. I walked back out.
Well, it was obvious that boy had no belly for booze. Clare needed a man. I sat down and opened another can of beer. I took a good hit. I found a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and lit one.
I don't know how many more beers I drank waiting for Clare but finally I heard the key in the door and it opened. There was Clare of the body and the bright blond hair. That body stood on those high heels and it swayed just a little. No artist could have imagined it better. Even the walls stared at her, the lampshades, the chairs, the rug. Magic. Standing there. ..
"Who the hell are you? What is this?"
"Clare, we've met. I'm Hank. Jimmy's friend."
"Get out of here!"
I laughed. "I'm movin' in, baby, it's you and me!"
"Where's Jimmy?"
She ran into the bedroom, then came hack out.
"You little prick! What's going on here?"
I picked up a cigarette, lit it. I grinned.
"You're beautiful when you're angry…"
"You're nothing but a god-damned little kid drunk on beer. Go home."
"Sit down, baby. Have a beer."
Clare sat down. I was very surprised when she did that.
"You go to Chelsey, don't you?" she asked.
"Yeah. Jim and I are buddies."
"You're Hank."
"Yes."
"He's told me about you."
I handed Clare a can of beer. My hand shook. "Here, have a drink, baby."
She opened the beer and took a sip.
I looked at Clare, lifted my beer and had a hit. She was plenty of woman, a Mae West type, wore the same kind of tight-fitting gown - big hips, big legs. And breasts. Startling breasts.
Clare crossed her wondrous legs, a bit of skirt falling back. Her legs were full and golden and the stockings fit like skin.