From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [78]
Prew started for him, would have hit him while his arms were still tangled in the shirtsleeves, but Maggio stepped in front of him.
“Wait a minute. You’ll only get yourself in trouble.” He opened his arms in front of Prew. “This is over me, not you. Just take it easy now.” He talked soothingly, doing for Prew now what Prew had done for him a while ago, still holding his arms outspread.
Prew stood passively, his arms hanging straight against his sides now, relaxed. “All right,” he said, feeling ashamed now for the cold murderousness that had been in him, for the wild ecstasy, wondering what it was in Bloom that made men want to smash him. “Take your arms down,” he said to Maggio, “for Christ’s sake. There aint nothing going to happen.”
“Thats what I figured,” Bloom said, sticking his shirt back in and buttoning it, grinning triumphantly as if the stopping of the fight had been his personal victory.
“Take off,” Maggio said disgustedly.
“Sure,” Bloom grinned. “You dont think I’m goin to donate you guys any more dough, do you? I dint know you was a bunch of sharpers,” he said, having the last word. He slammed the door back loudly, to show his contempt for cheaters.
“Straight shooters always win,” Maggio said. “Nobody ask you to play,” he called after him. “Someday I’m goin to bust that guy wide open. Someday he’s gonna make me mad.”
“I aint got anything against him,” Prew said. “But for some reason or other he always gets my goat.”
“I’ll get his goat,” Maggio said. “He’s a nogood son of a bitch. And I dont like him.”
“I guess we didnt treat him very friendly,” Prew said.
“You dont treat a guy like that friendly,” Maggio said. “Wait’ll he makes that corporalcy, he’ll treat you and me friendly. He’ll make us sweat, buddy.”
“I guess,” Prew said thoughtfully, wondering what it was, what trait, what quality, what difference of character that made one man likeable and another so dislikeable. He would take things off of Maggio he would never take from Bloom, even when he knew they were meant in joke. You couldnt talk to Bloom without him twisting it around to look like you had insulted him; he always seemed to need to put the other guy in the wrong. Thinking about it, he was suddenly angry again. He wished he had gone ahead and punched him, at least it would have broken the monotony. He wished he had gone on winning. He wished a lot of things. He hadnt had a woman now since before last payday, since the last time he was at Violet’s. He wished he had a woman.
“Well,” Maggio said, looking at Prew’s face, “I’m goin over to the sheds and win me a fortune with this change.”
“You better take what you got and go to town,” Prew said, “while you got it.” He turned and walked back by himself to the big double sink of zinc where they always scrubbed the web equipment and stood there, rubbing his hand over the slimy surface. Just like a woman, he thought. But not quite. All except one thing.
Julius Sussman stood up, counting the little money he had left. “Well, it was fine while it lasted. Sure busted up a nice friendly little game, all right. I aint even got enough left for a tank of gas. You dont want to play some more, I guess?” he said to Maggio.
“Not me,” Maggio said. “I’m goin to the sheds.”
“Thats what I figured,” Sussman said. He walked over to a window and stood looking out, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Son of a bitch,” he said. “This creepjoint gets me. If this rain would let up a little, I could go for a ride and maybe find some ass, if I had a tank of gas.” He stood back and sighed. “I guess I’ll see can I scour up some dough for me for a tank of gas.”
“Want me to go with you, Angelo?” Sal Clark said, getting up from the game of solitaire he had started on the bench. “I’ll sweat them out for you,” he offered.
“Naw,” Maggio said, defensively. “Sweat them out myself. Get my money’s worth.”
“I sweat them out for you, you’ll win,” Sal offered. “I cant never win myself, but I can sweat winners out for everybody else.”
Maggio turned to look at him and grinned. “You stay here and sweat them out, Fr