James Chase - Get a Load of This

When he got home he searched in the back of one of the three chest of drawers and brought out a further twenty-five dollars, which he always kept handy for emergencies such as this. He now had a hundred dollars and some small change, and he felt confident that he would get by with that amount of money. All the same, it was all the dough he had in the world, and he had got to keep something to live on for the next week or so until he fought again.

“Aw, to hell with it,” he said, and put the small roll in his pocket. He couldn’t spend all that in an evening. It was enough for him to live on for a month.

The next evening came round and found Slug struggling with his stiff shirt. With the aid of the landlady and her daughter, who were quite immune to his somewhat obscene ravings, he got his collar and tie fixed at last. When he finally took stock of himself in the glass he was agreeably surprised. The stiff black-and-white effect of the evening clothes softened the brutal coarseness of his features and his great bulk assumed a sharper outline in the carefully cut suit, making him look big and well built.

The landlady’s daughter, a monkey-like little creature with a bad squint, declared that he was as handsome as Dempsey, which pleased his vanity.

He pulled on his slouch hat, put his small roll in his trouser pocket and left the house. He stopped at the nearest saloon and had three stiff whiskies, noting with a mixture of pride and irritated embarrassment the nudging that went on amongst his acquaintances.

By the time he reached the barber’s shop he was feeling pleasantly tight, and had got fairly used to the collar and shirt which had threatened to strangle him. He found Brownrigg closing up, and he entered the shop with a swagger that was plainly to impress.

Brownrigg looked him over not without a certain admiration. “Say, Mr. Moynihan, you’re looking swell tonight,” he said, “that’s a grand suit you’ve got there.”

Slug flicked an invisible speck from the coat. “You think so?” he asked. “Well, boy, this suit cost plenty. It oughtta look good.” He glanced round the room. “Ain’t she here yet?”

Brownrigg jerked his head towards the manicure parlour. “She’s gettin’ ready,” he said with a wink. “Where are you takin’ her, Mr. Moynihan?”

Slug selected a cigar from a box on the counter. “The ‘Ambassadors’,” he said carelessly. “I like to take my dames to the right joints.”

Brownrigg whistled. “Say,” he said, “you certainly are goin’ places.” He hurriedly struck a match and lit Slug’s cigar.

Slug didn’t offer to pay for it, and Brownrigg, after a moment’s hesitation, decided to let it ride. Just then Rose came out from behind the curtained doorway and stood looking at Slug with a little smile.

Slug could hardly believe his eyes, she looked so beautiful. Her dress clung to her figure, revealing curves that he had suspected but was never quite sure were there. It was a bottle-green affair, tight in the bodice and round her neat hips and then flowed loosely to her feet. Her hair was dressed low to her shoulders, and her make-up was flawless, startling and provocative. He thought she looked like a high-class movie star.

“You look swell,” he said, and meant it.

She moved a little to the right and then to the left so that he could admire her more easily. “You like me?” she asked. “That’s fine. You don’t look such a tramp yourself, you know.”

Brownrigg nodded his approval. “You look a grand couple,” he said. “Now get along an’ enjoy yourselves, I want to shut down.”

Rose moved past Slug and he caught the scent of a heady perfume. He followed her out, feeling a little dazed. It was as if he were experiencing a magnificent dream.

As soon as they were outside, Rose glanced up and down the street and frowned. “Where’s the car?” she asked.

Slug, who had every intention of taking a trolley, felt a sudden twinge of apprehension. “I ain’t gotta car,” he said.

“Oh, don’t say ain’t, it’s vulgar,” she said a little sharply. “I thought you were bound to have a car. Well, get a taxi. It’s quite cold standing here.”

Slug said, “Sure, sure,” rather feebly, and waved at a yellow cab that cruised by on the opposite side of the road.

The driver recognized him and gaped, then he looked past Slug and saw Rose. His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips. “Where to, buddy?” he asked. “A run round the park?”

Slug scowled at him. “’Ambassadors’,” he said shortly, jerking open the door.

The driver whistled. “O.K., big-shot,” he said, “’Ambassadors’ it is.”

Slug climbed in and sat down beside Rose. She had settled herself in a corner and had arranged her dress carefully on the seat so that Slug had to squash himself up in the far corner to avoid crushing it. Behind this brittle but impassable barrier, she surveyed him with a bright smile.

“Gee! I can hardly believe that we’re going to the ‘Ambassadors’,” she said. “Harry will be green with envy when I tell him.”

Slug scowled. “You better lay off seein’ that guy any more,” he said. “You’re my girl now, an’ I don’t like other guys hornin’ in on my ground.”

She laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m nobody’s girl. I go where I like and do what I like and no one dictates to me.”

Slug looked at her and decided that it wasn’t time to try any heavy stuff. This dame was tough and would want a lot of handling; but looking at her in the flickering lights of the passing street lamps, he decided that any trouble would be well repaid with a dame of this class.

He reached out a hand and tried to take hers, but she avoided him. “Please don’t,” she said a little sharply. “I don’t want my dress to get creased.”

Slug sat back with a little scowl, but she immediately went on to ask him about the fight and talked to him gaily until his good humour was restored.

The cab slowed down and then swung into the kerb. The door was opened by a tall, uniformed porter, who touched his peaked cap respectfully with a snowy white glove.

Slug got out hurriedly and stood in the bright lights from the big neon sign that spelled ‘Ambassadors’. He paid the cab-driver and gave the porter some small change. Then he followed Rose through the revolving doors that were kept on the move by two bell-hops dressed in white with scarlet pill-box hats.

The big hall was crowded with people who stood about laughing and talking, waiting for their parties to arrive. Feeling that he would like the earth to open and swallow him up, Slug slunk along behind Rose, who moved across the hall towards the ladies’ room. She turned for a moment and said, “I’ll meet you here in a few minutes,” and disappeared through a group of expensively dressed women.

Slug looked helplessly round, conscious that the women were eyeing him with interest. A guy suddenly appeared at his elbow, dressed in what looked like a fantastic fancy dress, and took his hat from him. “This way, sir,” he said, in a soothing voice, and led Slug over to the cloakroom, where a hat-check girl was checking in a big party of men.

Slug watched with round eyes the casual way these guys tossed dollars into a plate on the counter as each received a check. Finally his turn came and the girl looked at him with a friendly smile as she gave him his number. Slug thought she’d make a nice tumble, and put his dollar in the plate without any regrets.

“Some joint,” he said hoarsely, “sortta puts the White House in the shade, don’t it?”

The girl gave him a quick, puzzled glance, smiled again automatically and went on giving out numbers.

Slug drifted back towards the ladies’ room and concealed himself as best he could behind a large clump of palms that swayed a little from a huge brass tub.