From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [475]
“What outfit is he in?” Warden asked conversationally.
“Say! What you care? I thought you want something. You drunk, eh? Lissen, Charlie wait on you. I no wait on bar.” She turned with a flounce, and marched back to the Artillery booth.
As one man, Warden and Stark both swung on their stools to watch her go. Her round bare legs slithered together prophetically under the swirling skirt. The small of her back made a concave surface that rounded out breathtakingly into the firm curved cheeks of her little bottom that waggled at them impishly.
“Christ!” Stark said reverently. “What an ass!”
“Amen,” Warden said tranquilly. He pursed his lips and ran his tongue over his mustache mellowly. He could feel the old cloudy belligerence of drunkenness rising up through his chest into his head soothingly, like a deep breath of camphor. Everything had that startling clarity of forgotten things being seen again.
“Are you happy?” Stark said.
“Sure I’m happy.”
“Man this is the life,” Stark said pointedly. “I wouldnt trade this life for nothing. Would you?”
“No,” Warden said. “Stark,” he said, “you know whats wrong with you? You’re a Texan, and you aint go no sense of humor.”
“I got a sense of humor.”
“Sure you have. Everybody has. But yours aint the right kind. Its too thick. Like blackstrap. You cant distinguish pride from a sense of humor. A proud man without the right kind of sense of humor beats himself to death before he’s thirty. Now take me. I got a real sense of humor. Thats why I can make a guy like you do anything I want him to.”
“You cant make me do nothing I dont want to,” Stark declared.
“I cant, hunh?” Warden said slyly. “You want to bet?”
“Sure, I’ll bet.”
Warden turned back to his drink, grinning slyly. Then he straightened up. “Hey, Rose!”
Rose came back up to the bar frowning. “Goddam Warden, what you want now?”
“Another shot of rye, Rose baby. Thats what I want. Fill my glass.”
“The man will fill your glass. Charlie fill it.”
“To hell with him. I want you to fill it, Rose.”
“Hokay. But you costing me. You want another beer too?”
Warden looked at his bottle. “Yeah. Throw that out. Gimme cold one.”
“You more trouble than I’m worth,” Rose smiled.
“You think so? Whats your boy friend’s name, Rose?”
“You go to hell.”
“What outfit’s he in?”
“I said you go to hell.”
“You know why I like for you to fill my glass, Rose? Its because I like to watch you walk away afterwards. You got a lovely bottom, Rose.”
“I’m married,” Rose said with dignity, meaning she was shacked up. But she was flattered.
“Whats your boy friend’s name?”
“Goddam it,” Rose exploded. “You shut up and go to hell.”
“My name is Berny,” the Artillery S/Sgt said, coming over from the booth. He was almost as big a man as Warden. “Sgt Ira Berny. 8th Field Artillery. Anything else you want to know, Sergeant?”
“Well,” Warden said thoughtfully. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four next June,” the S/Sgt said. “Anything else?”
“You got a very lovely shackjob for so young a man.”
“And I aim to keep her,” the S/Sgt said. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Would you be so kind as to have a drink with me and my friend here?” Warden said.
“Sure.”
“Rose honey,” Warden said, “pour him one.”
“Whiskey,” the S/Sgt said.
Rose poured it. Warden paid her. The S/Sgt tossed it off. “Well, be seein you,” Warden said in dismissal, and turned back to Stark, his back toward them. “Have a good time.” He began to talk to Stark.
They stood a moment, caught up short. Then they both went back to the booth. In the booth they began to talk to each other violently, and the three buddies listening.
“What the hell you doin?” Stark said. “Tryin’ to start a fight?”
“I never start fights.”
“But I suppose you finish them,” Stark said.
“No. I dont even finish them.”
“Shall we take him now?”
“Take who where?” Warden said.
“Yore buddy, the S/Sgt.”
“What are you talking about?” Warden demanded. “Oh, I forgot. You’re a Texan. Hey, Texan,” he said “I hear you’re a hotshot rifle shooter. Is that right?”
“I know the front end from the back,” Stark said.