Matt said, “Sure I found him, baby, what do you think? I found out his drop, anyway, and that’s all that matters. He’s either there or he’ll show up there. I’m gonna need you.”
“All right.”
“You don’t want to stick around there anyway.”
Brock looked at the room. “No. I don’t.”
“I’ll meet you in Philly. I looked it up; there’s a six-ten express train gets in at seven forty-five. I’ll meet you there.”
“All right.”
“Don’t worry, baby. We’ll have Uhl and the dough out of the way by tonight, and then we’ll go settle the score with Parker.”
“All right.”
“And we can use a chunk of that thirty-three grand from Uhl,” Matt said, “to put the apartment back in shape again. What do you think of that, huh?”
Voice dull, Brock said, “That will be fine, Matt.” Thinking how very alone he was, that the only man in the world he was close to could be so ignorant about him. That Matt could think for a minute he would ever want to set foot in this apartment again. That Matt couldn’t understand how it had been spoiled for him, that no amount of money on earth could make this apartment a virgin again. “I’ll see you in Philadelphia, Matt,” he said.
Four
Pam Saugherty said, “Well, I hope he never comes back at all.”
Ed Saugherty said, “Frankly, I hope the same thing. Just to get you off my back about him,”
“Is that any way to talk to me in front of the children?” Who were sitting with them at the dinner table, eyes round, ears open, mouths full of unchewed food.
Ed Saugherty knew there was no way to win an argument when his wife began hitting him in the head with the kids, so he just made a face and picked up his knife and fork and started cutting his roast beef.
Pam, having reduced him to silence, continued her half of the argument as a monologue, but he didn’t really listen. He thought about George Uhl instead, and about his earnest prayer that George wouldn’t come back. Not ever. Not at all.
And not just because of Pam either, though God knew that was a big part of it. But George was mixed up in something bad, and the longer George hung around here the greater the danger Ed Saugherty was going to get mixed up in it with him, and that was the last thing Ed wanted.
It wasn’t like high school anymore. The world was different now; the responsibilities were different. Only George didn’t seem to understand that. Back in high school he’d been an exciting guy to know, a risky, dangerous guy who drove cars too fast, drank before he was of legal age, got into fights with strangers, was always in trouble with the teachers at school; and it was fun to be a pal of his then, to share even just slightly in the excitement of his adventures. But when you’re a kid nothing is for real, nothing counts, there aren’t any responsibilities. That was what George failed to understand — that when a man grows up he has to set aside the things of a child, goddammit.
I He remembered calling George four years ago, when he’d been up in New York with the convention, and he remembered with embarrassment how he’d deferred to George both evenings. In adult, practical, realistic terms it was Ed Saugherty who was on top of the heap and George Uhl who was on the bottom, but it hadn’t worked out that way, and Ed knew it was his own fault. He’d still seen George as romantic and dramatic; he’d seen himself as a dull, plodding, uninteresting sort of guy, and he knew he’d spent those two evenings trying to win some sort of approval from George, approval and understanding. He’d even tried to buy his approval with that forty bucks they’d both known was a gift and not a loan.
At least he hadn’t talked to George about women. That had been during the bad time with Pam. He’d come to New York determined to break his marriage vows, and when he’d called George it had been mainly in hopes George could arrange a double date or something, could line him up with a girl. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask the question, and George hadn’t volunteered any such thing. Afterwards he’d been glad he hadn’t embarrassed and humiliated himself at least that much. He’d done so enough as it was. With the forty bucks, and deferring to the man.
And the same thing Monday, four days ago, when George showed up in the dusty car, unshaved, a wild look in his eyes, full of desperate secrets, asking to be hidden out for a while. Ed had fallen immediately into the old attitudes towards George, admiring his derring-do, deferring to him, taking the subordinate position to him. And maybe this time it would wind up costing him more than forty bucks.
If George came back. But of course he’d come back; he’d left a suitcase in the closet in the guest room. And in his note he’d said he’d be back. But if only he wouldn’t.
In a funny way, if it weren’t for Pam he felt he could throw George out now. If he came back. Tell him, “I’m sorry, George, but I’ve got responsibilities to my family and I’m afraid you could wind up bringing them trouble, so I’m going to ask you to find somebody else to help you. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.” He could say that and mean it and know it was the best thing under the circumstances. Except for Pam. She’d turned it into a contest by now, a battle of wills, trying to force him around to her way of thinking, and of course that made it all impossible. To throw George out now would not be the way of reason, it would be giving in to Pam. Letting her win.
If there was only some way to get that fact across to her, to make her understand that if she’d only lay off she’d get what she wanted. But, looking across the table now at her talking face he knew there wasn’t a damn thing he was going to be able to do to change anything. Circumstances were rolling along, rolling along, and he was just swept up in it, and all he could do was hope for the best.
The phone rang.
It startled him and he dropped his knife, and that startled Pam, who stared at him in surprise a second and then said, “I’ll get it.”
He nodded and picked up the knife again. He watched her trim figure as she walked into the living room, thinking that George had no idea what he’d cost Ed already. He looked around the table, told Angela to chew her food, and then Pam came back and said, “It’s for you. I think it’s him.”
“Oh.” He got to his feet as she, cold-faced, sat down. He went into the living room and said hello into the telephone.
George. “Ed, we’ve got a problem.” Sounding out of breath, rushed, harried.
Ed felt dinner lumping in his stomach. “A problem? What do you mean, a problem?”
“I’m not coming back there,” George said, and Ed smiled at the phone. But then George said, “There’s been a mess down here. I’m in Washington. There’s a girl here” — his voice receded a bit as though he turned away from the phone to look at something for the next few words — “she’s been beat up pretty bad. I got to take care of her, do something for her; then I’m getting out of here. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll get in touch.”
“That’s all right, George, you — “
“The big thing is the suitcase I left there,” George said quickly. “You stash that someplace safe, you hear me?”
“Yes. I — “
“Don’t tell your wife where. Just you do it by yourself.”
Ed stiffened a little at that. “Pam wouldn’t— “
“That isn’t the question,” George said. “The question is, it’s better she doesn’t know anything. Better for her. There’s a guy might come around.”
“What?”
“Ed, don’t worry about it. Here’s what you tell him.”
“What do you mean, somebody might come around?”
“This girl here had to give him your phone number. He really leaned on her, Ed, he made a mess out of her. But all you do— “
“My phone number? George, what have you done to me?”