Irwin Shaw - Rich Man, Poor Man

‘You know I can’t do that,’ Rudolph said.

‘No you can’t,’ Boylan said. ‘You’re like the rest of your family. You can’t do a fucking thing.’

‘Listen,’ Rudolph said, ‘I can get on the train and go home. Right now.’

‘Sorry, Rudolph.’ Boylan put out his hand and touched Rudolph’s arm. ‘I was standing here, telling myself she was going to walk through that door with you and she didn’t walk through. Disappointment makes for bad manners. It’s a good reason never to put yourself in a position in which you can be disappointed. Forgive me. Of course, you’re not going home. We’re going to take advantage of our freedom to have a night on the town. There’s quite a good restaurant a few blocks from here and we’ll start with that. Barman, may I have the check, please?’

He put some bills on the bar. The young man in the turtle-neck sweater, came up to them. ‘May I invite you gentlemen for a drink?’ He kept his eyes on Rudolph, smiling.

‘You’re a fool,’ Boylan said, without heat.

‘Oh, come off it, dearie,’ the man said.

Without warning, Boylan punched him, hard, on the nose. The man fell back against the bar, the blood beginning to seep from his nose.

‘Let’s go, Rudolph,’ Boylan said calmly.

They were out of the place before the barman or anyone else could make a move.

‘I haven’t been there since before the war,’ Boylan said, as they headed towards Sixth Avenue. The clientele has changed.’

If Gretchen had walked through the door, Rudolph thought, there would have been one less nosebleed in New York City that night

After dinner at a restaurant where the bill, Rudolph noted, was over twelve dollars, they went to a nightclub in a basement that was called Cafe Society. ‘You might get some ideas for the River Five,’ Boylan said. They have one of the best bands in the city. And there’s usually a new coloured girl who who can sing.’

The place was crowded, mostly with young people, many of whom were black, but Boylan got them a little table next to the small dance floor with an accurate tip. The music was deafening and wonderful. If the River Five was to learn anything from the band at Cafe Society it would be to throw their instruments into the river.

Rudolph leaned forward intently, gloriously battered by the music, his eyes glued on the Negro trumpeter. Boylan sat back smoking and drinking whiskies, in a small, private zone of silence. Rudolph had ordered whiskey, too, because he had to order something, but it stood untouched on the table. With all the drinking Boylan had done that afternoon and evening, he would probably be in no condition to drive and Rudolph knew that he had to remain sober to take the wheel. Boylan had taught him to drive on the back roads around Port Philip.

‘Teddy!’ A woman in a short evening dress, with bare arms and shoulders, was standing in front of the table. Teddy Boylan, I thought you were dead.’

Boylan stood up. ‘Hello, Cissy,’ he said. ‘I’m not dead.’

The woman flung her arms around him and kissed him, on the mouth. Boylan looked annoyed and turned his head. Rudolph stood up uncertainly.

‘Where on earth have you been hiding yourself?’ The woman stepped back a little, but held on to Boylan’s sleeve. She was wearing a lot of jewellery that glittered in the reflection of the spotlight on the trumpet Rudolph couldn’t tell whether the jewellery was real or not. She was startlingly made up, with coloured eyeshadow and a brilliantly rouged mouth. She kept looking at Rudolph, smiling. Boylan didn’t make any move to introduce him and Rudolph didn’t know whether he ought to sit down or not. ‘It’s been centuries,’ she went on, not waiting for any answers, continuing to look boldly at Rudolph. ‘There’ve been the wildest rumours. It’s just sinful, the way your nearest and dearest drop out of sight these days. Come on over to the table. The whole gang’s there. Susie, Jack, Karen… They’re just longing to see you. You’re looking absolutely marvellous, darling. Ageless. Imagine finding you in a place like this. Why it’s an absolute resurrection. She still kept smiling widely at Rudolph. ‘Do come over to the table. Bring your beautiful young friend with you. I don’t think I caught the name, darling.’

‘May I present Mr Rudolph Jordache,’ Boylan said stiffly. ‘Mrs Alfred Sykes.’

‘Cissy to my friends,’ me woman said. ‘He is ravishing. I don’t blame you for switching, darling.

‘Don’t be more idiotic than God originally made you, Cissy,’ Boylan said.

The woman laughed. ‘I see you’re just as much of a shit as ever, Teddy,’ she said. ‘Do come over to the table and say hello to the group.’ With a fluttery wave of her hand, she turned and made her way through the jungle of tables towards the back of me room.

Boylan sat down and motioned to Rudolph to sit down, too. Rudolph could feel himself blushing. Luckily, it was too dark for anyone to tell.

Boylan drained his whiskey. ‘Silly woman,’ he said. ‘I had an affair with her before the war. She wears badly.’ Boylan didn’t look at Rudolph. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said. ‘It’s too damned noisy. And there are too many other coloured brethren on the premises. It’s like a slave ship after a successful mutiny.’

He waved to a waiter and got the check and paid it and they redeemed their coats from the hatcheck girl and went out. Mrs Sykes, Cissy to her friends, was the first person Boylan had ever introduced Rudolph to, not counting Perkins, of course. If that’s what Boylan’s friends were like, you could understand why Boylan stayed up on his hill, alone. Rudolph was sorry the woman had come over to the table. The blush reminded him painfully that he was young and unworldly. Also, he would have liked to stay in there and listen to that trumpeter all night. They walked east on Fourth Street, towards where the car was parked, past darkened shop fronts and bars which were little bursts of light and music and loud conversation on their way.

‘New York is hysterical,’ Boylan said. ‘Like an unsatisfied, neurotic woman. It’s an ageing nymphomaniac of a city. God, the time I’ve wasted here.’ The woman’s appearance had plainly disturbed him. ‘I’m sorry about that bitch,’ he said.

‘I didn’t mind,’ Rudolph said. He did mind, but he didn’t want Boylan to think it bothered him.

‘People’s filthy,’ Boylan said. “The leer is the standard expression on the American face. Next time we come to town, bring your girl along. You’re too-sensitive a boy to be exposed to rot like that’

I’ll ask her,’ Rudolph said. He was almost sure Julie wouldn’t come. She didn’t like being friendly with Boylan. Beast of prey, she called him, and the Peroxide Man.

‘Maybe we’ll ask Gretchen and her young man and I’ll go through my old address books and see if any of the girls I used to know are still alive and we’ll make it a party.’

‘It ought to be fun,’ Rudolph said. ‘Like the sinking of the Titanic’

Boylan laughed. “The clear vision of youth,’ he said. ‘You’re a rewarding boy.’ His tone was affectionate. ‘With any luck, you’ll be a rewarding man.’

They were at the car now. The was a parking ticket under the windshield wiper. Boylan tore it up without looking at it

‘I’ll drive, if you like,’ Rudolph said.

‘I’m not drunk,’ Boylan said curtly and got behind the wheel.

Thomas sat in the cracked chair, tilted back against the garage wall, a grass-stalk between his teeth, looking across at the lumberyard. It was a sunny day and the light reflected metallically off the last blaze of autumn leaves on the trees along the highway. There was a car that was supposed to be greased before two o’clock, but Thomas was in no hurry. He had had a fight the night before at a high school dance and he was sore all over and his hands were puffed. He had kept cutting in on a boy who played tackle for the highschool team because the tackle’s girl was giving him the eye all night. The