David Goodis - The Blonde on the Street Corner

“Onward,” Dippy said.

When they were near Dippy’s house, Ralph collapsed again. Dippy dragged him into the house, lifted him to the sofa. Dippy rested at the foot of the sofa, flat on his back. He closed his eyes and within a minute he was fast asleep.

At almost four in the morning, Lenore walked down the street, toward the house. She walked slowly. She was all in. She was ready to drop. She had been with the Italian since ten. The Italian lived a block away. He was thirty-three years old. He was married but he didn’t live with his wife. He was six feet tall and he weighed more than 200 pounds and he was like rock. His hair and eyes were very black and gleaming, and his chin and cheeks were blue-white with heavy beard that was shaven twice each day.

The Italian was a construction foreman. He was rough. Lenore liked him. She liked his hands. Sometimes he got a bit too rough, but Lenore knew how to manage that. She knew how to manage him and all the rest of them. She had something on each and every one of them. All they had to do was open their mouths just once and she would give them away. They all knew that. Lenore always made sure she had something on a man before she added him to her list. The Italian, for instance. The Italian wanted to get his wife back. His wife was a pretty little Italian girl who lived with the two kids and the grandmother in South Philly. Lenore knew the address. She told the Italian if he ever tried to pull any monkey business, she would go down to South Philly and open her mouth. The Italian would never get his wife back. Whenever Lenore yelled this at him, the big, rock-like Italian would start to cry. Lenore would laugh at him. She laughed at all of them. Most of all she laughed at Clarence.

She kept telling Clarence that she would treat him better on condition that he move with her into a smart apartment. Then she would really treat him better. He cursed and yelled and lately he was getting fits of screaming. He would start to scream and punch his fists together and Lenore would sit there and laugh at him. Lenore kept telling him what a fool he was. And she would be standing in front of the mirror with very little on. Pretending that she did not know he was watching, she would be putting her hands on herself. She was fat, but her build was interesting. It would go on like this until he couldn’t stand it any longer and he would go downstairs and try to sleep on the sofa. She would be laughing and telling herself it wouldn’t be long now until he went with her to look for a smart apartment, with yellow wallpaper and a yellow piano. It wouldn’t be long now. Tonight he was waiting up for her. As always, when she went to spend an evening with the Italian or with one of the others, she had told Clarence she was going to visit her sick sister. The sick sister situation was perfect. The sister was actually very sick. She was allowed to see nobody but Lenore. And sometimes she was so sick that Lenore would have to stay there all night with her, afraid to leave her alone.

Played out, looking forward to a soft bed and sleeping all day tomorrow, Lenore walked into the house.

She looked at Dippy, flat on his back, on the floor. She heard a moan from the sofa.

She looked at the other one on the sofa. She put her hands on her hips and stood there looking at him.

“What are you looking at?” Dippy said.

Lenore stepped away from the sofa. Dippy was still flat on his back but his eyes were open. She stared at him. Then she said, “What’s bothering you?”

“Not a thing,” Dippy said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine.”

“That’s too bad,” Dippy said.

“Die.”

“After you.”

“Who’s that drunken bum on the couch?”

“Ralph. You know him ”

She stood there, looking at Ralph. She said, “Drunken bum.”

“Don’t wake him up,” Dippy said.

She looked at Dippy. She said, “What the hell do I want to wake him up for?”

“I don’t know”

Lenore said, “What’s the big idea bringing him here? Whaddya think this is, anyway?”

“A house.”

“That don’t say you can bring him in here and let him mess up the whole goddam place.”

“Go away and don’t annoy me.”

“I’ll go away and won’t annoy you — I’ll kick you right in your face, you slimy worm. You got one lousy hell of a nerve, you have, bringing in drunken bums and putting them all over the house—”

“I got about thirty of them in the kitchen,” Dippy said.

“I got a good mind to kick this bum right out into the gutter, where he belongs.”

“Good night,” Dippy said.

“I’m not ready to go up yet,” Lenore yapped. “I got a few things to say to you.”

“Well, say them fast. My time is limited.”

“I’ll give you your time. One of these days I’ll give you a crack across that fresh mouth of yours.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

“I’m getting good and fed up with you,” Lenore said. “I’m getting fed up with a lot of things around here. And if you think I’ll keep on putting up with it, you got another think coming. I don’t have to stand for this sort of thing. I don’t have to stand for anything from you. And from your mother too. Clarence pays the rent in this house. I’m his wife. We’re giving you a break, you and your mother. We’re letting you stay here with us. We don’t have to.”

“Do me a big favor,” Dippy said. “Walk up to the top of the steps and fall down.”

“Why, you rat bastard!”

“Make sure it’s from the top,” Dippy said. He was resting comfortably on his back, with his hands under his head and his feet propped up.

Lenore stood over him. Her hands were on her hips.

“You’d like that. You’d like to see me fall down a flight of steps. You’d get a kick out of that, wouldn’t you?”

“I imagine so,” Dippy said.

Lenore shouted, “Well, get a kick out of this!” Her foot swished out fast.

Waiting for it, Dippy was ready. He rolled to the side, at the same time reaching out and grabbing her ankle as she kicked at him. He pulled hard. Lenore lost her balance and sat down with a loud bump. She screeched and made a lunge for Dippy, and he rolled away and she tripped and fell again. She got up fast, cursing and screaming, and ran after him. He scooted into the next room and ran around the table. Upstairs the mother and Clarence were yelling, wanting to know what all the noise was about. Unsmilingly, Dippy thumbed his nose at Lenore. He foxed his way into the living room and pulled the front door open and raced out.

Lenore was all in. She cursed and sobbed and fell to the floor.

On the sofa, Ralph slowly sat up.

Mascara mixed with tears of rage rolled down Lenore’s face. The peroxide blonde hair fell over her eyes.

She looked at Ralph. She said, “Don’t sit there. Help me up.”

He went over to her and started to help her up. He had her by the wrists. She pulled away. Then she grabbed at his elbows, and pushed his arms toward her, she forced him to place his hands under her armpits. As she slowly stood up, she pushed herself against him, and then she had her arms around his middle and she was rubbing herself against him. Her belly moved in circles, came against him and pumped away, and came against him.

Still sort of sick, and very dizzy, he didn’t catch on. He thought she was holding tight to keep him from falling. He didn’t need any help. He wanted to go back to sleep. He squirmed away from her. He took hold of her wrists and forced her arms away and stepped back.

Lenore looked him up and down. Her face twisted, and her thick-lipsticked lips spread out and then rolled together and she put her hands on her hips and said, “Why you dirty drunken bum—”

He swayed. He had a headache. He was blinking. Lenore patterned her mouth into an odd smile and pushed her hands against his chest, hard.