Her voice when she answered was tired.
“This is Barny,” he said. “How’s the head?”
“Oh, hello. It’s better, I think.”
“Fine. How about making a day of it? I’m off until tomorrow night, you know.”
“Barny, I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She spoke rapidly. “I— We’ve got a rehearsal this afternoon. Something’s wrong with the timing on the show and Bill wants to run through it to see where it’s off.”
“I get it,” Barny said.
“It... it’s quite a nuisance.”
“Yeah, I know. Came up pretty sudden, didn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, it did.”
He wanted to ask her if she’d gone straight to bed after he’d dropped her off the night before; or if she’d seen Mark Brewster again. But he couldn’t have stood it if she bed to him, and so he didn’t ask.
“Well, all right, kid, I’ll see you,” he said, and rang off without saying goodbye.
Outside the sun was shining and wind sang clearly in the trees. Kids from the nearby school ran along the streets shouting to each other and to the policeman at the intersection.
Nolan climbed in behind the wheel of his car, and drove slowly along the block with no destination in mind. He drove for half an hour through the middle-class residential streets of the city. There was nowhere he wanted to go, nothing he wanted to do, except to see Linda, and that was impossible.
He drove aimlessly for a few more minutes and then headed for a taproom far out in the west section of the city. The man who owned the place was named Al Newman, a patrolman at the Ninety-second District. His brother was a city fireman, who helped out when Al was on duty. Nolan had spent a lot of time there in the past. It was a homey, relaxed joint, with dark wooden booths, bowling machines, and a juke box.
Nolan went in and said hello to Al. He ordered whisky with a beer and they talked for a while of men they knew in the department, and the heat; then Al went down the bar to serve another customer.
Nolan finished his drink, feeling slightly relaxed, and walked to a telephone booth. He called a woman he knew, a waitress who worked a nightshift, and after enduring her good-natured complaints at being waked in the middle of the day, asked her to meet him at Al’s that afternoon.
She laughed and said all right.
Nolan had another drink. There were two other men in one of the booths, and a customer at the bar. The waitress was sitting at a table, laboriously writing out a sandwich menu. The air, while hot, smelled cleanly of cigarettes and beer.
He was on his fourth drink when Nora Winters arrived. He waved to her and she walked over to him with a grin on her face. Nora was in her late thirties, a solidly built woman with coarse but good-natured features and streaky blond hair. She was wearing heavy make-up, high-heeled strap-sandals and a gaudy print dress.
“Barny, you’re looking fine,” she said, taking the stool next to his, and grinning at Al. “What’re we celebratin’?”
“Any damn thing you want,” Nolan said. Nora was wearing a sweet perfume that smelled like after-shave lotion. “How about starting to catch up?”
“Oh, oh, here we go again,” she said, putting both hands to the sides of her head.
“Well, let’s go then.”
Barny had known Nora for several years. She was a good sport, he was thinking, a woman who took things as they came and was always ready for a laugh, a gag or a drink. He watched her with some fondness as she followed her whisky with a sip of beer.
“Let’s make this a big one,” he said.
“I’m a working girl, remember?” she said, laughing. “What’ll my customers think if I give ’em oyster stews instead of steaks tonight? I’ll just take it nice and slow.”
The whisky had made Nolan feel somewhat better. This was his life, he thought, ordering another round. Real people, real fun, and to hell with everything else. He bought Al a drink and sent beers back to the men in the booth.
Nora said, “That’s right, Barny, you only live once, I always say.”
“That’s right, kid. I’m making this one count, don’t worry.”
His mood gradually became belligerent. Splintered thoughts shot through his mind, worrying him, destroying his sudden good humor. Linda would have lied to him, he knew. She would have told him Mark Brewster hadn’t been in her apartment. Brewster was in the hospital now, the smart bastard. He was smart like Dave Fiest. All the smart, wise boys, the screw-artists, the good-English kids, were all going to wind up like Dave Fiest.
Nora was singing a lewd version of Barnacle Bill, and Nolan slapped the top of the bar and shouted with laughter.
“That’s the stuff,” he said. “Let’s show ’em who’s smart.”
He ordered drinks for everyone but Al shook his head. “Barny, for your own good, you and the girl friend should get something to eat. That yocky-dock is getting to you.”
“Well, get us some food then. What do you want, Nora?”
“That’s better. Go over to a booth and the girl will bring you some sandwiches.”
“Supposing you go to hell,” Nolan said, anger flowing through him hotly. He caught Al’s tie and jerked him forward. “You think I’m some damn toad, eh? I’ll eat and drink when I want to, understand?”
Al’s hands were underneath the bar, and Nolan knew he was feeling for a club or an ice pick.
“Don’t bring your hands up,” he said. He jerked the tie and brought Al’s chin down onto the bar. “I’ll shoot hell out of you, you hear? I’ll haul you in.”
“Barny, cut it out, for God’s sake!” Nora said.
“Aw, shut up.” He turned to the men who had come out of the booth. They avoided his eyes. “I’ll arrest you punks, too, damn it,” he shouted.
Nora slipped off the stool and ran for the door. Nolan released Al’s tie and hurried after her, his anger subsiding.
“Wait a minute,” he yelled, as she tottered down the sidewalk in her high-heeled sandals.
People stopped and stared as he ran heavily after her and finally pulled her up short with a hand on her arm.
“Take it easy, Barny,” she said, panting and scared.
“Look, are you nuts? I pull a little gag and everybody gets a fit.”
She regarded him for a moment with a doubtful expression; and then she shook her head. “What a gag!”
“Come on, let’s finish our celebration.”
“Not back there.”
“All right, let’s go get some food. How about that? Steaks, the works.”
“Suits me.”
They drove into the center of the city and ate enormous dinners at an excellent restaurant. Nolan had several shots of whisky afterward, while Nora sipped a frappé crème de menthe. The food settled heavily on his stomach, and he was tired and depressed. What the hell had he blown his top for at Al’s? That had been a meat-headed thing to do, he knew. He felt like crawling into bed and staying there for a week, and not thinking about anything else for the rest of his fife.
He suggested the first proposal to Nora and she thought it was a good idea, so they checked into a nearby hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Barny Fiest.
“Where’d you get that name?” Nora asked him, when the bellhop had gone away after opening a window and snapping on the fights.
“What name?”
“Fiest. I get the Barny part, but where’s the Fiest from? Your mother’s name?”
“My mother was Irish,” Barny said, staring at her angrily. He sat on the bed and loosened his tie, wondering what had prompted him to use Dave Fiest’s name. He hadn’t thought about it at all, actually. The name had simply flowed out of the end of the fountain pen. Dave Fiest, the smart guy who was riding home in a box after a life-time of trying to outsmart everybody else.