From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [82]
It was also on the bum, at the tender age of twelve, that he’d had his first experience with queers, when a fifty-year-old jocker had seduced him in a rolling boxcar. It was more a rape than a seduction, since another man had had to hold him.
He looked up at Andy, his lips drawn back very tight in a grin that was more a snarl, his eyes very flat and far away and glinty. It was also on the bum, at the not so tender age of fifteen, that he’d knocked another jocker off a steep downgrade in Georgia and later read about them finding the dead body and the resulting roundup of free labor for the State that he had escaped.
“You do whatever you want,” he said to Andy thinly. “If the guy turns out to be a jocker and you get pogued, go see the Chaplain. I’ll loan you my card; it aint punched out yet.”
“You tryin to scare me?” Andy scoffed. “Are you goin now?” he said to Friday. “I got to put my civvies on. I’m meetin Bloom in the Dayroom in fifteen minutes.”
“You better listen to him,” Sal Clark said. “You better not go with Bloom.”
“For Chris’ sakes, lay off of me,” Andy said. “A man cant sit on his can in these barracks all his life. Are you goin to the show or aint you?”
“I guess I will go to the show,” Sal Clark said. “I can practice dealin them cards tomorrow. Whynt you borrow a dime, Prew, and come on with me? You only need a dime. I got thirty cents.”
“No thanks, Friday,” Prew said, looking at the seriousness of the long thin olive face and feeling the sense of warmth again. “I promised Angelo I’d wait.”
“Whatever you say,” Sal Clark said. “You have a good time in town.”
“Okay,” Prew said. “Listen, dont you let Bloom talk you into goin queer huntin with him, hear me?”
“Not me,” Sal Clark said solemnly. “I dont like queers. They make me feel funny, they make me scared.”
“If you want to go queer huntin, go by yourself,” Prew said. He watched them leave, then laid out a hand of Sal’s and began to wait. He didnt have to wait long. The other two had not been gone ten minutes before little Angelo came bursting into the latrine, slamming back the doors so hard they banged.
“Well,” Prew said, looking up. “How much did you win?”
“Win?” Maggio said violently. “Win! I won about forty bucks, in one hand. You think that’ll be enough to go to goddam town?”
“Fair,” Prew said dryly. “How much did you lose?”
“Lose? Oh,” Maggio said vehemently. “Lose. I lost forty-seven dollars. Also in one hand, the second hand. God,” he said looking around for something he could throw and finding nothing, took his new-blocked hat and slammed it down on the floor. He kicked it viciously, putting a big muddy dent in the papier-mâché-stiff crown, scooting it across the mucky floor.
“Now look what I did,” he said sorrowfully and went over to the wall to pick it up. “Well,” he said, “whynt you ask me why I didnt quit after I won the forty? Go ahead. Ask me.”
“I dont need to ask you,” Prew said. “I already know why.”
“I thought I could win some more,” Angelo said, insisting on castigating himself since Prew wouldnt do it. “I thought I could win enough for a real trip to town. Maybe two real trips to town. Balls,” he said. “Tes-tickles.” He slammed the muddy, dusty, dented hat back on his head cockeyed and put his knuckles on his hips and looked at Prew. “Oh, balls, balls, balls,” he said.
“Well,” Prew said. “Thats that.” He looked down at the deck in his hands and ripped it suddenly across the middle, tearing the first few top and bottom cards clear in two, bending and ripping the next ones only a little bit, then tossed the scrambled mess up in the air and watched them drift, sideslipping, like autumn leaves, down to the floor. “No ass. Let the goddam latrine detail clean them up in the morning. To hell with it.”
“Andy and your boy Friday go to the show?” Angelo asked hopefully.
“Yeah.”
“He dint give the money to you back?”
“Nope.”
“Damn,” Angelo said. “I save out four bits. If I had a buck I know a game in C Compny I could get in where the takeout’s a