To tell the truth, I was pretty sick of this God-damn Ketch character before I’d even met him, and didn’t give much of a damn whether I ever met him or not, and I said, “Well, to hell with him. Just between the two of us, I didn’t hit the booze at the Gay Gander so hard tonight, and I don’t have any God-damn intention of passing out again, so I got better things to think about than some spook named Francis Z. Ketch, and you may not know it yet, but so have you.”
She patted me and laughed and said, “Jesus, Junior, I wouldn’t miss it for the world because there’s just an outside chance you’re maybe half as good as you think you are,” and we drove on around to her apartment and went upstairs, and I had another drink but didn’t pass out from it, and everything was different and a damn sight better than the night before. About three o’clock she told me I’d have to get the hell out, and I didn’t want to go, but she said I’d damn well have to go whether I wanted to or not, and I could see she meant it, so I got ready and started, but at the door I turned and said, “I’ll see you tonight at the Gay Gander,” and she said, “The hell you will,” and I said, “Why not?” and she said, “Listen, Junior, I got a soft spot in my heart where you’re concerned, but don’t get the idea I’m reorganizing my whole God-damn life to accommodate, you. I’ll work you into the schedule when I can, but that damn sure doesn’t mean every night.”
“Well,” I said, “when’s my next turn on the schedule?” and she said, “How the hell would I know? Didn’t you ever hear of a telephone? Give me a ring sometime,” and I could see that was the best I could get out of her right then, so I said I sure as hell would and went back to the hotel in the Crosley and went to bed. I didn’t want to get up in the morning, but I thought I’d better get on around to Arnold Hamshank’s just the same, so I went and when I came in he said, “Jesus, Skimmer, you really look pooped. You really must have been sick, boy,” which was a damn belly-laugh, as you can see, but I didn’t tell him why.
I thought I’d just let Candy sweat a little, since she was so damn independent, so I didn’t call her for a couple of days, but when I finally called her on the third day I’m bound to admit she didn’t seem to be in much of a sweat, and she told me she had other things to do and couldn’t see me again until Saturday night, which was still two days away. I figured she was just playing hard to get, even though she’d already been got once, and to tell the truth, it made me a little hot, and I said well, it just happened I had something else to do Saturday night myself and couldn’t make it, which was a damn lie, and she said, “Okay, Junior, have fun,” and hung up.
I was in a sweat myself after that, and I finally decided there wasn’t any use cutting off my nose to spite my God-damn face and called her again and said I’d found out I’d be able to make it to the Gay Gander after all and would be waiting for her after her eleven o’clock spot, and she said, “Well, it’s lucky for you that you can make it, Junior, because I’ve finally got an appointment with Franzie Ketch for you, and he’ll see you Saturday night. As a matter of fact, he wants me to bring you up to his place around ten, and I’ve got out of the eleven o’clock spot to do it, so you be at the Gander by nine-thirty.”
“Well,” I said, “I haven’t seen you for a hell of a long time, and I’m in no damn mood to waste any time talking to Franzie Ketch or anyone else,” and she said, “Push, push, push! My God, it won’t take all night to talk with Franzie,” and I said, “Any God-damn time is too much,” and she said, “Damn it to hell, Junior, can’t you get it through your head that Franzie can be important to you? Anyhow, he’s damn sure as important to you as I am, because I told you before and I’ll tell you again that I’m no lousy philanthropist to be trading time and talent for peanuts, and if you want to drop your shoes beside my couch any more you’d better believe me.”
I said okay, okay, I’d see him, and she said, “Good for you, Junior,” and hung up. I’d called her from Arnold Hamshank’s place, and I went in his office and said, “Who the hell’s Francis Z. Ketch?” and he looked at me and said, “No one but the biggest gambler and crook in this town. Why?” and I said, “Oh, I just heard someone mention him like he was supposed to be pretty hot stuff and just wondered who he was, that’s all,” and as a matter of fact I’d been pretty sure he was something like that all along, and I was pretty sure how he’d want to put me in the way of making a potful, too, and I didn’t know if we could work anything out about it, but it wasn’t any skin off my tail just to go see, so I went.
It turned out he lived in a hell of a big apartment house over on one of the fancy boulevards, and Candy and I buzzed over there in the Crosley and went up about a God-damn mile in the elevator to the floor he lived on. Candy pushed a button beside the door and started a mess of chimes going off inside, and the last few seconds while we were waiting, she whispered, “Now act your damn age, Skimmer, for Christ’s sake, because Franzie’s no guy to stand for any cute stuff,” and I said, “All right, God-damn it, I’ll be a regular lousy angel,” and just then the door was opened by no one but Francis Z. Ketch himself.
We went into a living room that was bigger than a barn and covered with a carpet up to your God-damn knees, and Candy said, “Skimmer this is Mr. Ketch. Skimmer’s the one I told you about, Mr. Ketch,” and this Ketch held out a hand and said, “How are you, Skimmer?” and I said I was fine, and as a matter of fact you could have slapped me ass over elbows with a feather, and this was because he didn’t look any more like a big crook and gambler than old Bugs’s grandmother, for instance. He was a little sawed-off bastard, to start with, not even as tall as Candy, and he was one of these plump guys with a round face that had rosy cheeks and a little red mouth like they paint on Kewpie dolls, and his hair was soft and pure white and combed back in little waves on both sides of a crummy center part, and his hands and feet were so God-damn little they looked like a woman’s. He talked in this soft, prissy voice that made you think he might be a fairy, and he told us to come on in and sit down, which we did, and some spook wearing soup and fish came in then with some drinks on a tray and gave us each one.
“Well, Skimmer,” Francis Z. Ketch said, “I understand from Candy that you’re quite a persistent fellow,” and I said if that meant trying to get what I wanted, I sure as hell was, and he smiled and said, “That’s very commendable, and if Candy’s one of the things you want, I also commend your good taste,” and I said Candy was damn sure one of the things I wanted, all right, and I was in there trying all the time, but she’d been making it pretty tough for me for some damn reason or other, and he laughed and made a little tent with his fingers over his pot gut and said, “Well, Candy’s quite a popular young lady, and I’m afraid she’s been spoiled, and indeed I feel impelled to warn you that if you expect to remain in favor you must be prepared to stand considerable expense.”
That sounded to me like an invitation to take the God-damn bull by the horns, so I did and said, “Well, that’s why I’m here, because Candy said you might be able to put me in the way of making a potful,” and he smiled with his stinking little rosebud of a mouth and said, “You’re certainly a direct young man, I’ll say that for you,” and then he sat there looking at me with these round blue eyes that looked so damn innocent you wouldn’t have believed it, and as a matter of fact they reminded me of old Mopsy Beacon when she was talking about saving it.
I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, and pretty soon he said, “As a matter of fact, there are definite prospects for a young man in your position, provided he’s willing to cooperate in certain essential matters,” and I said, “You mean about the basketball?” and he said to Candy, “How refreshingly direct this fellow is,” and to me, “Yes, about the basketball,” and I said, “You mean to throw some games so you can make a potful betting against us like Gravy Dummke wanted to?” and he made a little face like something was hurting him and closed his eyes and said, “Oh, no, no, no! I have no idea who this Dummke person is, but I have nothing so crude in mind. You see, it’s merely the matter of the spread.”