We had dead air for a while, and she said: “Mr. Kearny, men like you don’t marry girls like me, at least to live wit them and like it. Maybe a wife can have cross eyes or buck teeth; but she can’t have a past.”
“Ruth, I told you, my first night here, I’m from California, where we’ve got present and future. There isn’t any past. Too many of their grand-mothers did what you do, they worked for gambling houses. They dealt so much faro and rolled so many dice and spun so many roulette wheels, in Sacramento and Virginia City and San Francisco, they don’t talk about the past. You go tot admit they made a good state though, those old ladies and their children. They made the best there is, and that’ where I’d be taking you, and that’s why we’d be happy.”
“It’s out.”
“Are you married, Ruth?”
“No, but it’s out.”
“Why is it?”
“I’ll pay you tomorrow night.”
Next night the place was full, because a lot of them had bet a favorite that came in and they were celebrating their luck. When she’d paid them off she motioned and I went over. She picked up eight tens and two ones and handed them to me, and to get away from the argument I took the bills and put them in my wallet. Then I tried to start where we’d left off the night before, but she held out her hand and said: “Mr. Kearny, it’s been wonderful knowing you, especially knowing someone who always takes off his hat. I’ve wanted to tell you that. But don’t come any more. I won’t see you any more, or accept bets, or anything. Goodbye, and good luck.”
“I’m not letting you go.”
“Aren’t you taking my hand?”
“We’re getting married, tonight.”
Tears squirted out of her eyes, and she said: “Where?”
“Elkton. They got day and night service, for license, preacher and witnesses. Maybe not the way we’d want it done, but it’s one way. And it’s a two-hour drive in my car.”
“What about—?” She waved at the bag, equipment, and money.
I said: “I tell you, I’ll look it all up to make sure, but I’m under the impression — just a hunch — that they got parcel post now, so we can lock, seal, and mail it. How’s that?”
“You sure are a wheedling cowboy.”
“Might be, I love you.”
“Might be, that does it.”
We fixed it up then, whispering fast, how I’d wait outside in the car while she stuck around to pay the last few winners, which she said would make it easier. So I sat there, knowing I could still drive off, and not even for a second wanting to. All I could think about was how sweet she was, how happy the old man would be, and how happy our life would be, all full of love and hope and California sunshine. Some people went in the café, and a whole slew came out. The juke box started, a tune called Night and Day, then played it again and again.
Then it came to me: I’d been there quite a while. I wondered if something was wrong, if maybe she had taken a powder. I got up, walked to the café, and peeped. She was still there, at the table. But a guy was standing beside her, with his hat on, and if it was the way he talked or the way he held himself, as to that I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he looked kind of mean. I started in. Mike was blocking the door. He said: “Pal, come back later. Just now I’m kind of full.”
“Full? Your crowd’s leaving.”
“Yeah, but the cops are watching me.”
“Hey, what is this?”
He’d sort of mumbled, but I roared it, and as he’s little and I’m big it took less than a second for him to bounce off me and for me to start past the bar. But the guy heard it, and as I headed for him he headed for me. We met a few feet from her table, and she was white as a sheet. He was tall, thin, and sporty-looking, in a light, double-breasted suit, and I didn’t stop until I bumped him and he had to back up. Some girl screamed. I said: “What seems to be the trouble?”
He tuned to Mike and said, “Mike, who’s your friend?”
“I don’t know, Tony. Some jerk.”
He said to her: “Ruth, who is he?”
“How would I know?”
“He’s not a friend, by chance?”
“I never saw him before.”
I bowed to her and waved at Mike. I said: “I’m greatly obliged to you two for your thoughtful if misplaced effort to conceal my identity. You may now relax, as I propose to stand revealed.”
I turned to the guy and said: “I am a friend, as it happens, of Ruth’s and in fact considerably more. I’m going to marry her. As for you, you’re getting out.”
“I am?”
“I’ll show you.”
I let drive with a nice one-two, and you think he went down on the floor? He just wasn’t there. All that was left was perfume, a queer foreign smell, and it seemed to hang on my fist. When I found him in my sights again he was at the end of the bar, looking at me over a gun. He said: “Put ’em up.”
I did.
“Mike, get me his money.”
“Listen, Tony, I don’t pick pockets—”
“Mike!”
“Yes, Tony.”
Mike got my wallet, and did what he was told: “Take out that money, and every ten in it, hold it up to the light, here where I can see... There they are, two pinholes in Hamilton’s eyes, right where I put them before passing the jack to a crooked two-timing dame who was playing me double.”
He made me follow his gun to where she was. He leaned down to where she was. He leaned down to her, said: “I’m going to kill him first, so you can see him fall, so get over there, right beside him.”
She spit in his face.
Where he had me was right in front of the telephone booth, and all the time he was talking I was working the ring off. Now I could slip it up in the empty bulb socket. I pushed and the fuse blew. The place went dark. The juke box stopped with a moan, and I started with a yell. I went straight ahead, not with a one-two this time. I gave it all my weight, and when I hit him he topple over and I heard the breath go out of him. It was dark, but I knew it was him by the smell. First, I got a thumb on his mastoid and heard him scream from the pain. Then I caught his wrist and used my other thumb there. The gun dropped, it hit my foot, it was in my hand. “Mike,” I yelled, “the candle! In the booth! I’ve got his gun! But for Pete’s sake, give us some light!”
So after about three years Mike found his matches and lit up. While I was waiting I felt her arms come around me and heard her whisper in my ear: “You’ve set me free, do you still want me?”
“You bet I do!”
“Let’s go to Elkton!”
So we did, and I’m writing this on the train, stringing it out so I can watch her as she watches mesquite, sage, buttes, and the rest of the West rolling by the window. But I can’t string it out much longer. Except that we’re goof happy, and the old man is throwing handsprings, that’s all.
Period.
New Paragraph.
California, here we come.
Two O’clock Blonde
My heart did a throbby flip-flop when the buzzer sounded at last. It was all very well to ask a girl to my hotel suite, but I was new to such stuff, and before this particular girl I could easily look like a hick. It wasn’t as if she’d been just another girl, you understand. She was special, and I was serious about her.
The trouble was, for what I was up to, man-of-the-world wouldn’t do it. From the girl’s looks, accent, manners, and especially the way she was treated by the other guests, I knew she was class. So I guess ‘gentleman’ would be more like what I was shooting for. Up until now I’d always figured I was one, but then — up until now — I’d never really been called on to prove it.
I had one last look at my champagne and flowers, riffled the Venetian blind to kill the glare of the sun, her pale face, dark hair, trim figure, and maroon dress making the same lovely picture I had fallen for so hard. Everything was the same — except the expression in her eyes. It was almost as if she were surprised to see me.