James Chase - Get a Load of This

Manuel turned to his bottles. “I have something for you,” he said. “You will not be disappointed.”

The tall, thin man she had called Harry said, “I wish you wouldn’t, it doesn’t suit you.”

“That’s only your opinion,” the girl said. She had very fine hands, slim and white and very beautiful. “We are starting well tonight. Soon we shall be quarrelling, and then we shall go away from each other. I think I shall like that.”

Harry offered her a cigarette. “You mustn’t talk like that. I don’t know what’s come over you lately. Have a cigarette. Look, Manuel is bringing you your drink.”

She took the cigarette and smiled very brightly again at Manuel as he put the glass down.

Manuel said, “You will like it. I have every confidence.”

She said: “I am sure I will. Look, I’ll taste it before I smoke.” She raised her hand to stop Harry from striking a match. When she had tasted the drink, she put it down with a little shudder. “God!” she said.

Manuel looked at her closely and then looked at Harry. “You like it?” he asked anxiously.

She said: “It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. I wouldn’t say I liked it, but it’s what I want.”

Manuel went away, his face a little sullen. He wasn’t sure what she meant.

Harry said softly, “You’ve hurt him.”

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I hurt someone for a change? You don’t mind when I am hurt, why should you bother about a barman?”

He moved uneasily. “I wish you wouldn’t go on like this,” he said. “Really, it doesn’t do any good.”

“Very well, I won’t. Let us change the subject. Let us talk about something else. I’ll be very good. I promise I won’t be difficult any more. There, now I’ve promised.”

There was a pause, then she went on: “This morning I was very extravagant. I went out and bought a hat. It cost a lot of money, but I felt that I had to have something new. It made me feel very happy for a few minutes.”

“I’m glad. I wish you’d buy yourself what you want. You know you can have what you want.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I can’t. You think that your money will give me everything I want, but it can’t.”

He bit his lips, annoyed at giving her the obvious opening. She went on before he could say anything. “Your money can’t make me Mrs. Harry Garner, can it? By the way, how is Mrs. Harry Garner, and how is your daughter?”

Harry finished up his whisky. “Didn’t we agree not to talk about that side of my life?” he said, trying to speak gently.

“Oh yes, I know. We agreed not to talk about them, but sometimes I get very curious. You can’t blame me, can you? I mean they are so important in your life, aren’t they? They are much more important to you than I am, aren’t they?”

“You know they’re not. Look, we’re getting on the wrong topics tonight. Let’s go somewhere and have dinner. Perhaps you’d like to see the show at the ‘Hot-Spot’.”

She laughed. “I’ll tell you something. I saw you take the Mrs. Harry Garner there the night before last. I couldn’t go after that. It wouldn’t be right.”

He clenched his fist. “You can be very hateful sometimes,” he said, and she could see that for the first time he was really angry.

“No, not hateful. I wouldn’t like you to call me that. Not after the nights I’ve given up to you. You can’t say that. It’s because it’s the truth and it annoys you. Be honest, isn’t that right?”

He drew a deep breath. “All right, it does more than annoy me, it hurts. For God’s sake, can’t we stop this awful bickering?”

“I’m sorry.” She finished the drink Manuel had given her. “Tell him to give me another. It’s terribly, terribly dangerous stuff, but I don’t care.”

Harry signed to Manuel, who smiled. If she wanted another, it must be all right.

They didn’t say anything to each other until Manuel had brought the drinks, and then, when he had gone away, Harry said: “He’s a genius for finding new drinks. Will you thank him very nicely when we go?”

She sipped the drink, pulling a little face. “Yes, I will thank him. I’ll be very, very nice to everyone you like, including your wife and your daughter. There, I can’t do more than that, can I?”

He felt the evening couldn’t go on any longer like this. It was absurd that she should dominate him. He was determined to get things back to normal.

“Listen,” he said, “are you going to say bitchy things all the evening?”

Her eyes opened a trifle. “Am I?”

“It’s no use going on like this. Tell me. Get it off your mind, then perhaps we can forget about it.”

“Forget about what? Mrs. Harry Garner and Miss Garner? They’d be very difficult to forget.”

“Four months ago you said they didn’t matter,” Harry said, determined to keep his temper. “You said you understood my position and you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind; I know you didn’t. Why this sudden change?”

She didn’t like this direct approach. “Harry, do you think if I fell in love with a woman I should be any happier?”

“No, you can’t side-track like that. You don’t mean anything by that. You’re just gaining time.”

“No, honestly. I’ve wondered. Women can be so much more understanding.”

Three people came up to the bar and ordered drinks. They stood close to Harry and the girl. One of them was a tall, flat-chested girl with a serious expression on her face. She wore heavy, horn-rim glasses. The other two were middle-aged men.

One of the men said, “Manuel, you’re looking pretty good tonight.”

Manuel pushed a bottle of Canadian Rye across the polished wood. He said: “Yes, sir, I’m feeling pretty good. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The man turned to the serious-looking girl. “I like this place. They give you the bottle and let you get tight, fast or slow, just as you feel. There’s no waiting to be served.”

The serious-looking girl said: “That’s fine, because I want to get tight very fast tonight.”

Harry said: “Let’s go. I can’t talk to you here. Let’s go back to the apartment.”

She shook her head. “No, not tonight. I’m feeling nervy. We should only quarrel. Not tonight.”

He hid his disappointment. “Well, let’s go, anyway. I’ll see you home.”

He gave Manuel some money and she smiled at him. “Your drink’s been a big success. Mr. Garner says you’re a genius.”

Manuel showed his surprise. He said good night rather stiffly. He felt somehow that she had insulted him.

The two of them walked out into the bustle of the street. He noticed that she was just a little drunk; it gave him hope.

“Let me come back with you,” he said, “I have a lot to say to you.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight.” She sounded very final.

He raised his hand to signal a cab.

“No,” she said, “I’m much too tired. We’ll walk.”

It all happened so quickly he hadn’t any chance of making plans. They had come to him and offered him three hundred dollars to give Pedro de Babar the heat. Three hundred dollars! They were crazy! Well, he’d got them up to five hundred and there they stuck. When he found they wouldn’t give any more, he agreed. He knew once he had given it to de Babar he’d have to get out of Cuba. That didn’t worry him. He was sick of Cuba, anyway.

In the afternoon he went up to de Babar’s bungalow with the intention of having a look round. It was a nice place, fitting for a General of the Cuban War Department to live in.

The big garden that surrounded the one-storied building flamed with colours. Palm trees bent graceful heads against the blue of the sky. The place was so nice that the boy was violently envious. He would have liked to have been a devastating god with powers to destroy by a wave of his hand.