From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [172]
The tall chinless hawknosed Mississippi peckerwood possessed all the disgusting traits of a backward people with few of the compensating good. But he did loan money, even though he lived an eternal gimlet-eyed suspicion, a grasping pinch-mouthed servile pride in being “just what he was, by god, and no hifalutin airs, take it or leave it.” He had earned the management of his gambling shed by being in the same company 17 years and ass-kissing his superiors every minute of that time, and now he was in position to compensate for it with a sadistic cruelty toward anyone he calculated he could dominate. In short, he had much in common with the Congressional politicians from his native state, and would have glorified in their re-election and their policies, except that he had never heard of any of them, even Rankin.
“Haw,” Turp hawked, when Prew called him over to one side and hit him up for twenty. He doubled up his long thin frame and prodded the other slyly. “Haw,” he hollered, loud enough for everybody in the humming shed to hear, “so Prewitt the Hard’s a finally givin in, ’ey? Got his guts all riled over wantin a little, ’ey? So he decide to come around and see ole daddy Turp that aint good enuf for him to talk to ’cept on Payday to borry some money, ’ey? Well, it comes to all on us, boy, it comes to all on us.”
He got his wallet out, but did not open it yet, he was not through yet.
“Where you aim to go? The Service? The Ritz? The Pacific? The New Senator? The New Congress Mrs Kipfer runs? I know em all, boy, hell I support em. Listen, now, boy. Let me give you a little tip. Ers a new job over to the Ritz. Not so hot on looks but boys! will she work you over. Hunh? What you say? Kind of gits ye, dont it? Like to have a little bit a that stuff? wunt ye? ’ey? Hows about er, ’ey?”
A number of the players were looking at them now and laughing. Turp grinned back at them smugly, relishing his audience, not wanting to lose it, not just yet.
Prew was still silent but his face was reddening in spite of himself. He cursed silently at his face for reddening.
Turp laughed again, winking at his audience, get this now, this going to be a good one now, just get this. His long bony nose poked into Prewitt’s face with each bob of nervous laughter. The grin pulled up the long corners of his chinless mouth making his face into a series of sharp prying Vs. The subdued murky eyes popped into bright intensity like bursting flares, filled with obscene curiosity and insulting laughter. Turp was at his best before an audience, get this now.
“Haw,” Turp hawked, winking at his audience. “Why hell, boy, if you’d do it with her her way, you wunt have to borry no money. She’d give it to ye for nuthin, and probly be willin to take you to raise in the bargain. Hows about that, ’ey?”
The audience roared. Old Turp was in form. Even the dice stopped rattling.
“I hear thats what she likes,” Turp hawed. “Hows about it, ’ey? Man never knows till he tried it. Maybe he been missin somethin all his life. I hear them boys out in Hollywood make a lot of money that a way. Man awys use a leetle money, caint e? Might even get to like it, who knows?
“Haw, look at im. He blushin. Look at im, boys. Laws, I do declare he blushin. You really want to borry some money now, Prewitt? Or you jist pullin my leg now? Maybe you wont need it now.”
Prew stayed silent but he was having trouble with it. He had to keep shut, if he aimed to get the money. And Turp had money. Turp made money. He had been running a shed from G Company when O’Hayer was just an upstart. But O’Hayer’s rise had been meteoric and he had topped them all. For this Turp hated and feared the gambler with a sly long-nosed implacability. Yet strangely, he took the small sums he made from his loans and the large sums he made from his shed and lost them all across O’Hayer’s poker table along in the middle of the month. After Payday ga