The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [163]
“He deserted, second time, the boys were saying.”
Hink shook free of his care-takers and floundered into a precarious balance. He swayed as helplessly as a baby in the center of the sidewalk, with his shoulders bent and his nodding head lowered.
“How goes the cab racket, fink?” laughed Studs.
“Well, Studs, I ain’t got no complaints. I wasn’t working for a long time, and then I got me this job, and now I’m also lined up with a can house, and get my split on anybody I bring there. That reminds me. The next time you boys want a girl, let me bring you there. The girls are all young.”
“Sure. How about you? Ever take part of your split out in trade?”
“Do I? They got a seventeen-year-old blond there who’s as low as a broad could be, but say, Studs, she knows her stuff,” Nate said, lasciviously.
Studs watched the blind meanderings of the three drunks. Nate laughed and wisecracked.
“Nate, it looks like hell to see a guy like Hink so goddamn helpless. Christ, look at him, and he’s such a powerful fellow, with a beautiful physique. Say, they could make a statue out of that boy’s body,” Studs said reflectively.
“Hell, Studs, we all get that way now and then; he’ll get over it.”
“Say, and you know Shrimp is looking bad these days. He’s getting skinnier than a rail.”
“Yeah, he’s hitting it up.”
“His wife takes plenty from him. Christ, he’s drunk every day, and she goes out and works for him, and they got that kid. I wonder why the hell Shrimp married her. He doesn’t seem to give a damn for her,” said Studs.
“You know how it is, Studs. A broad won’t come across and a guy gets hot for her, so he marries her to get it. Then after he gets it awhile, he gets tired and wants something else to change his luck. It happens that way in the best-regulated families,” Nate said.
“I guess so, but how come you’re blowing so quickly?”
“Work, my boy. I ain’t booked a thing tonight yet,” Nate said, leaving.
“I see you’re sober tonight, Studs,” well-dressed Phil Rolfe said, stepping out of the poolroom.
“I got to lay off the stuff. I drank too much of it already. Got a heartburn, and I want to watch my guts.”
“Doctor’s orders?”
“No, I just figure I better cut the stuff out for a while.”
“That’s the smart thing to do; it makes a pig out of you when you get blind.”
Studs watched Shrimp and Mush laboring to lift Hink from where he had fallen on his face. Studs assisted them and then returned to his post by the window.
“It’s chump stuff, drinking that way, and it doesn’t pay a guy nohow,” Phil said; he trotted on.
Hink broke loose from his buddies and wandered towards Calumet Avenue, babbling; pedestrians gave him a wide berth. While Shrimp and Mush laughed, he let out a big heave, and some of his vomit splashed the silk stockings of a passing girl. She walked on indignant, muttering that it was perfectly disgusting, while Shrimp and Mush flirted with her. Studs looked at her leg.
They dragged Hink back, and got him inside the poolroom. Studs walked off towards the park. Like a pig in a gutter. It was queer all right, the way people always drank. You were calm and sober, and wanted something to do, excitement, wanted to cut loose. So you warmed your belly up with a few drinks, and it made your head a little giddy. Everything seemed suddenly rosy or funny, you were happy, you forgot everything that was bothering you. People laughed at what you said, and you laughed at your own jokes too. Everybody looked at you. You were proud of yourself, proud because you couldn’t even walk straight. You weren’t afraid of any sonofabitch and his brother—sometimes, not even of Johnny Law. You didn’t care what you did, told everybody what you thought of him, kicked in windows, raised all holy hell. It was a glorious feeling, but you kept wanting more to drink, and kept wanting to talk more and tell the world who you were and what a great guy you were, make everybody just pay attention to you. And soon, the lights went out. Everything was black, and all you knew about was a kind of torment the same as when you went under gas to have a tooth pulled. You acted like a clown, became so helpless that you couldn