They stopped dancing and looked at each other with the blood burning their faces.
‘Knowing you Nevada,’ he said in a doleful tone ‘has meant more to me… You’re so decent to me. Everybody’s always been so nasty.’
‘Aint he solemn though?’ She walked over thoughtfully and stopped the phonograph.
‘Some joke on George I’ll say.’
‘I feel horribly about it. He’s been so decent… And after all I could never have afforded to go to Dr Baumgardt at all.’
‘It’s his own fault. He’s a damn fool… If he thinks he can buy me with a little hotel accommodation and theater tickets he’s got another think coming. But honestly Tony you must keep on with that doctor. He did wonders with Glen Gaston… He thought he was that way until he was thirtyfive years old and the latest thing I hear he’s married an had a pair of twins… Now give me a real kiss sweetest. Thataboy. Let’s dance some more. Gee you’re a beautiful dancer. Kids like you always are. I dont know why it is…’
The phone cut into the room suddenly with a glittering sawtooth ring. ‘Hello… Yes this is Miss Jones… Why of course George I’m waiting for you…’ She put up the receiver. ‘Great snakes, Tony beat it. I’ll call you later. Dont go down in the elevator you’ll meet him coming up.’ Tony Hunter melted out the door. Nevada put Baby… Babee Deevine on the phonograph and strode nervously about the room, straightening chairs, patting her tight short curls into place.
‘Oh George I thought you werent comin… How do you do Mr McNiel? I dunno why I’m all jumpy today. I thought you were never comin. Let’s get some lunch up. I’m that hungry.’
George Baldwin put his derby hat and stick on a table in the corner. ‘What’ll you have Gus?’ he said. ‘Sure I always take a lamb chop an a baked potato.’
‘I’m just taking crackers and milk, my stomach’s a little out of order… Nevada see if you cant frisk up a highball for Mr McNiel.’
‘Well I could do with a highball George.’
‘George order me half a broiled chicken lobster and some alligator pear salad,’ screeched Nevada from the bathroom where she was cracking ice.
‘She’s the greatest girl for lobster,’ said Baldwin laughing as he went to the phone.
She came back from the bathroom with two highballs on a tray; she had put a scarlet and parrotgreen batik scarf round her neck. ‘Just you an me’s drinkin Mr McNiel… George is on the water wagon. Doctor’s orders.’
‘Nevada what do you say we go to a musical show this afternoon? There’s a lot of business I want to get off my mind.’
‘I just love matinees. Do you mind if we take Tony Hunter. He called up he was lonesome and wanted to come round this afternoon. He’s not workin this week.’
‘All right… Nevada will you excuse us if we talk business for just a second over here by the window. We’ll forget it by the time lunch comes.’
‘All righty I’ll change my dress.’
‘Sit down here Gus.’
They sat silent a moment looking out of the window at the red girder cage of the building under construction next door. ‘Well Gus,’ said Baldwin suddenly harshly, ‘I’m in the race.’
‘Good for you George, we need men like you.’
‘I’m going to run on a Reform ticket.’
‘The hell you are?’
‘I wanted to tell you Gus rather than have you hear it by a roundabout way.’
‘Who’s goin to elect you?’
‘Oh I’ve got my backing… I’ll have a good press.’
‘Press hell… We’ve got the voters… But Goddam it if it hadn’t been for me your name never would have come up for district attorney at all.’
‘I know you’ve always been a good friend of mine and I hope you’ll continue to be.’
‘I never went back on a guy yet, but Jez, George, it’s give and take in this world.’
‘Well,’ broke in Nevada advancing towards them with little dancesteps, wearing a flamingo pink silk dress, ‘havent you boys argued enough yet?’
‘We’re through,’ growled Gus. ‘…Say Miss Nevada, how did you get that name?’
‘I was born in Reno… My mother’d gone there to get a divorce… Gosh she was sore… Certainly put my foot in it that time.’
Anna Cohen stands behind the counter under the sign THE BEST SANDWICH IN NEW YORK. Her feet ache in her pointed shoes with runover heels.
‘Well I guess they’ll begin soon or else we’re in for a slack day,’ says the sodashaker beside her. He’s a rawfaced man with a sharp adamsapple. ‘It allus comes all of a rush like.’
‘Yeh, looks like they all got the same idear at the same time.’ They stand looking out through the glass partition at the endless files of people jostling in and out of the subway. All at once she slips away from the counter and back into the stuffy kitchenette where a stout elderly woman is tidying up the stove. There is a mirror hanging on a nail in the corner. Anna fetches a powderbox from the pocket of her coat on the rack and starts powdering her nose. She stands a second with the tiny puff poised looking at her broad face with the bangs across the forehead and the straight black bobbed hair. A homely lookin kike, she says to herself bitterly. She is slipping back to her place at the counter when she runs into the manager, a little fat Italian with a greasy bald head. ‘Cant you do nutten but primp an look in de glass all day?… Veree good you’re fired.’
She stared at his face sleek like an olive. ‘Kin I stay out my day?’ she stammers. He nods. ‘Getta move on; this aint no beauty parlor.’ She hustles back to her place at the counter. The stools are all full. Girls, officeboys, grayfaced bookkeepers. ‘Chicken sandwich and a cup o caufee.’ ‘Cream cheese and olive sandwich and a glass of buttermilk.’
‘Chocolate sundae.’
‘Egg sandwich, coffee and doughnuts.’ ‘Cup of boullion.’ ‘Chicken broth.’ ‘Chocolate icecream soda.’ People eat hurriedly without looking at each other, with their eyes on their plates, in their cups. Behind the people sitting on stools those waiting nudge nearer. Some eat standing up. Some turn their backs on the counter and eat looking out through the glass partition and the sign HCNUL ENIL NEERG at the jostling crowds filing in and out the subway through the drabgreen gloom.
‘Well Joey tell me all about it,’ said Gus McNiel puffing a great cloud of smoke out of his cigar and leaning back in his swivel chair. ‘What are you guys up to over there in Flatbush?’
O’Keefe cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. ‘Well sir we got an agitation committee.’
‘I should say you had… That aint no reason for raidin the Garment Workers’ ball is it?’
‘I didn’t have nothin to do with that… The bunch got sore at all these pacifists and reds.’
‘That stuff was all right a year ago, but public sentiment’s changin. I tell you Joe the people of this country are pretty well fed up with war heroes.’
‘We got a livewire organization over there.’
‘I know you have Joe. I know you have. Trust you for that… I’d put the soft pedal on the bonus stuff though… The State of New York’s done its duty by the ex-service man.’
‘That’s true enough.’
‘A national bonus means taxes to the average business man and nothing else… Nobody wants no more taxes.’
‘Still I think the boys have got it comin to em.’
‘We’ve all of us got a whole lot comin to us we dont never get… For crissake dont quote me on this… Joey fetch yourself a cigar from that box over there. Frien o mine sent em up from Havana by a naval officer.’
‘Thankye sir.’
‘Go ahead take four or five.’
‘Jez thank you.’
‘Say Joey how’ll you boys line up on the mayoralty election?’