From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [134]
“Billy,” Stark said sullenly, still not looking at them. “The little Jewish one. I already ask her and its okay.”
“Oh-oh,” Maggio grinned. “The little hot eyed job?”
“Sure,” Stark said angrily. “Thats right. Whats wrong with that?”
“Not a thing,” Maggio grinned. “I been meanin to try that sometime myself.”
“All right then,” Stark said sullenly. “You pick yours and I’ll pick mine. Whats it to you what I pick?”
“Not a dam thing,” Maggio said. “Long as I get Big Sandra. I dont care what they are, long as they big and tall.”
“Okay,” Stark said. “Thats your business. If I like Billy thats my business, aint it? You like Sandra. Well, I just happen to like Billy. So what?”
“So nothing,” Maggio said. “All I ask was . . .”
“Well quit asking,” Stark said. “Its none of your goddam business. I just like Billy, thats all.”
“Maureen is free,” Prew said.
“To hell with Maureen,” Stark said. “I know what the hell I want. Billy’s what I want. You want to argue?”
“Okayokay,” Maggio said. “Quit bitching. You got her, aint you? But man,” he said, “I love that Sandra. When they that big and tall, man! Man oh man oh man! You got yours picked?” he said to Prew.
“Yeah,” Prew said. “I got mine picked.”
Stark snorted. “He picked the goddam Princess.”
“No joke?” Maggio said. “No kidding?”
“No joke,” Stark said sourly. “No kidding. Princess Lorene, the Virgin of Waikiki,” he taunted.
“She’s a snob,” Maggio protested.
“All right, so what?” Prew said. “I aint telling you guys what to pick. Dont tell me what to pick.”
“I aint telling you what to pick,” Stark said. “You can pick Minerva, if you want, for all I give a good goddam. Its nothing to me what you pick.”
“We want to be sure now,” Maggio said, “that we have them get three rooms right together in a row so we can all use this whiskey. Dont forget that now,” he said. “You asked yours yet?” he said to Prew.
“No,” Prew said reluctantly. “Not yet.”
“Well you better ask her quick, man,” Angelo said. “If you want her. Them sailors look to me like they mean to stay all all night too.”
“You aint ask Sandra yet either, have you?” Prew said.
“God damn no!” Maggio said. “I clean forgot! Lets us get back out there, man. Right now.”
Chapter 17
THEY CAME BACK from the latrine down the long hallway past the many doors of tiny bedrooms, past the several short side halls that held only doors of bedrooms, making the right angle turn to the left and past still more doors of bedrooms, before they reached the waiting rooms.
“Big place,” Maggio said.
“Got a big business to take care of,” Stark said.
Prew said nothing.
He found Lorene still sitting in the same place, looking just as serenely confident, and he felt relieved a little. But now there was a new soldier he had not seen before sitting beside her talking to her, a constant stream of talking to her, that she was listening to serenely, but attentively, and he stopped undecided in the doorway, letting the other two go on in ahead because he felt again the thickness in his throat that all but choked him and now also a new feeling of weak laxness in the backs of his thighs.
He knew he should ask her right away at once before it was too late. But he was very worried suddenly for fear he had already waited too long to ask. And it was suddenly of the greatest importance that he get her instead of another one. It was so important he was afraid to ask and he was very awkward and he could not begin.
Jesus Christ, he raged at himself. Whats wrong with you. She’s nothing but a common whore, or at best an uncommon whore, so why should you be awkward. Who cares if this one doesnt like you. Ask Maureen, she likes you. Whats wrong with you, he thought, is you have not had one for so long you are ripe sucker bait for any cunning little cute little snatch that comes along. Thats whats wrong with you, so for god sake quit being awkward. Go and ask Maureen.
“You engaged, Lorene?” he asked her awkwardly.
His voice made the talkative soldier stop talking and look up and grin.
At least something can make him stop talking, Prew thought.
“No, Prew,”