12
Kathy had begun pacing at eight-thirty. Now, at eight-forty-five, she wandered the room aimlessly, the window facing the front yard serving as the focal point of her ramblings. She would walk to the window, lift the shade and look out at the front yard, draw the shade again, pace, wander, light a cigarette, and then end up back at the window again.
“Where is he?” she asked. “Shouldn’t he be back by now?”
“He’ll be back,” Sy said. “Relax.” He paused. “He not only had to make the call, you know. He also had to do the daily marketing.”
“The boy…”
“The boy, the boy, the boy! I hear another word about the boy, I’m going to start a club for underprivileged kids! Man, am I sick to death of this job! I should have known better than to tie up with a jerk who runs out to buy milk!”
“He went out to make the call,” Kathy said. “Someone had to do it.”
“He’s also buying milk. And hot chocolate,” Sy said, using a falsetto on the words, giving them a mincing, oversweet quality.
“The boy is cold.” She glanced at Jeff where he lay huddled on the bed, Kathy’s coat around him, a blanket over that. “You’re lucky he hasn’t started crying.”
“You’re lucky I haven’t started crying,” Sy said. “That money is so damn close I can taste it.”
“Sy, when Eddie comes back—”
“What time is it?”
Kathy looked at her watch. “Eight-fifty. When he comes back, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Not until a little before ten.”
“And then what?”
“Stop worrying. Your milkman will return, and everything’ll come off all right, and we’ll be rich as hell. And you know why? Because Sy Barnard is handling this little shindig. If a small-time punk like Eddie was in charge—”
“He’s not a small-time punk!”
“No? Okay, he’s a big operator, okay? How’d you ever get involved with such a big operator, huh?”
“Oh, what do you care?”
Nervously, she walked to the dresser and opened her purse. Nervously, she began combing out her hair.
“I’m interested,” Sy said. “Really.”
“We just met, that’s all.”
“Where?”
“I don’t remember.”
“The Safecrackers’ Ball?”
“That’s not funny, Sy.”
“But you knew he was in the rackets?”
“Yes, I knew. It didn’t matter to me.” She paused. “Eddie is good.”
“Yeah, he’s a doll.”
“I’m not joking. Oh, why am I even talking to you!” She hurled the comb into her purse and then snapped it shut and walked to the window again.
“Didn’t I say he was a doll?”
“He’s in this because it’s the only thing he knows,” Kathy said. “But if he got away from it, if I helped him to get away from it, he’d be good. I know he would. I’d see to it.”
“Why’d you marry him?”
“I love him.”
“Warm for his form, huh?”
“When are you going to let me go?” Jeff said from the bed.
“Shut up, kid.”
“Aren’t you ever?”
“I said shut up. I had you up to here already!”
Kathy lifted the shade and scanned the yard again. Sighing, she turned away from the window.
“You worried about him?”
“Of course I am,” she said.
“What for? There’s other fish in the ocean. Bigger fish. Smarter fish.”
“He’s my husband.”
“Pull down the shade.”
“It’s morning. Why can’t… ?”
“I don’t want nobody peeping in here.”
“There isn’t a soul around for miles!”
“Pull it down!”
Kathy lowered the shade, walked to the dresser again, fished into her purse for a cigarette and, discovering she was out, snapped the bag shut angrily.
“Stop worrying,” Sy said. “Husbands are for the birds. All they are is a piece of legal paper and a gold circle. Who the hell ever takes husbands seriously?”
“I do,” Kathy said. “I love him.”
“Love is what they make up for teenagers. There ain’t no such animal.”
“You’re mistaken. You just don’t know.”
“I know more than you think, baby, and about a lot of things. I know, for example, that your darling boy is rotten clean through. There ain’t nothing you can do for him no more. It’s too late now.”
“It’s not too late. Once this is over…”
“Once this is over, there’ll be another job, and another one after that, and then another and another and another! Who the hell are you kidding? Yourself? I seen bums like Eddie in prisons all over this country. He’s rotten! He stinks! He’s me, for Pete’s sake! Do you think I’m such a prize?”
“I don’t want to listen.”
“Okay, don’t. The big reformer there. Gonna make a silk purse. Bullshit!’
“Don’t talk like that, Sy. I don’t…”
“Why? What are you gonna do about it?”
“I’ll—Just don’t talk like that.”
“You sound actually threatening, you know that? I got to watch my step, huh? Got to be careful. Not like little Blondie there, huh? He don’t have to be careful.” Sy paused and then looked at the radio receiver. “Eddie shoulda turned on the monster before he went out. We ain’t heard nothing for a long while.”
“There’s nothing to hear but the road blocks.”
“So? I find road blocks interesting.” He paused and studied her. “Listen, you want a little drink?”
“So early in the morning?”
“Sure. Puts hair on your chest. Come on.”
“No.”
“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you drink?”
“I drink.”
“So, come on, have one. For Pete’s sake, we’re sitting on a fortune, you realize it? Are we supposed to mope around like a couple of corpses? What the hell is this, a graveyard? Come on, baby, loosen up.”
“If you want a drink, take one. Nobody’s stopping you.”
“Right, baby! Nobody stops me from nothing I want!” He studied her speculatively for a moment, and then walked to the dresser. Picking up a pint bottle from its top, he held it aloft, said, “Cheers,” and tilted it to his mouth. “Good stuff. Change your mind?”
“I don’t want any. Where’s Eddie?”
“You getting nervous, huh?” He held the bottle out to Jeff. “Want a slug, kid? Warm the cockles. No, huh?” He shrugged and wiped his mouth. “You worry too much, Kathy. We could be having ourselves a real ball, insteada worrying. A real ball.” He smiled and nodded, staring at her. Kathy moved toward the window again, crossing her arms over the front of her sweater. “You know what your trouble is, baby? You don’t know how to live, that’s what. You’re all tensed up because darling hubby went to the grocery store. You got to learn to relax. Look at me. Cops covering the city like a plague. Do I worry? Hell, no.”