The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [312]
“Lots of flats for rent around here,” she said.
“I know, but this isn’t a good neighborhood, like it used to be,” he said as the bus bounced over the Forty-seventh Street car-tracks.
“And such nice places and homes, too,” she sighed.
He slumped in his seat, liking the bus ride in the sun, Catherine close to him. He scented her perfume, saw people drifting along, looked at girls in new clothes, thinking whether or not they were nice. But he didn’t want to trade her for the girls he saw. She was a damn good kid, best in the world for him. Wanting her to know it, he took her hand, smiled at her, received in return a squeeze of the hand and a grateful smile.
“Love me?”
“Uh huh! you’re darn right I do,” he said with false gruffness.
III
Already yesterday seemed like a blur to him. It was like some happy dream which was forgotten the moment he woke up, and all that was left of it was the memory of having felt good. On the bus with Catherine everything but her and his own feelings had seemed covered by a curtain, and he had felt in the future only good things and good luck could possibly come to him. He could see now that he had no right to feel that way.
He sucked malted milk through a straw, and watched the soda jerkers hustle orders amid the noise and clatter of the buzz of the electric malted-milk shakers. They worked their pants off and they didn’t get a hell of a lot for it, either. He was glad he wasn’t in their boots, and he guessed he was better off than most of them. It was a flunkey’s job, and a guy must feel pretty lousy working at it day after day, with no future and only hard dumb work. It was something to know that there were others worse off than he was.
He licked his straw and set it back in the glass, swung off the chair by the soda counter, and walked by drug articles stacked on tables to the cashier’s desk at the door.
“Hey, Dugan.”
“Oh, hello, Studs. How are you? Gee, I’m glad to see you.”
“See this? The stock market went all to hell today. Where’s all the dough I was going to clean up on the Imbray stock of yours?” Studs asked, nettled, showing Ike the account of a stock-market break recorded in The Chicago Questioner.
“You know what that is, don’t you?”
“What?” Studs asked anxiously.
“That’s just fluctuation.”
“That stock is thirteen, and I’m out nine hundred and sixty bucks. Is that what fluctuation means?”
“I’m out more if you pay any attention to this. I’ve been buying Imbray stock every week. But we don’t pay any attention to this at the office. It’s just fluctuation. You can’t lose on Imbray stock with all the public utilities of the Middle West and the brain of Solomon Imbray behind it.”
“That’s what you said before, and the stock has lost twelve bucks a share.”
“I know. And I stand to lose more than you do. I’ve been buying Imbray stock out of my pay for months now. And I’m not worried, I don’t bother about whether it goes up or down a little on the market. It’s thirteen now, isn’t it? Well, when we signed the stock agreement, it was twenty-five, and we’re still buying it at that price, and still I’m not kicking, because I got faith. I got faith because I know you can’t go wrong on Imbray stock, and some day I know it’s going to set me up sweet and pretty on Easy Street.”
“Isn’t it dumb, though, to buy it for twenty-five bucks when it’s thirteen in the market?”
“Well, by our employee-stock agreement, we pay half and the company pays half for us. But I’m still buying it every week and I’m not kicking... But just a minute, Studs, I’ve got to call a girl up.”
“I got to be blowing.”
“Well, call me up and we’ll go to a show some night.”
He watched Ike hustling to the phone booth toward the back of the drug store. Something sneaky about him. Still, what he said sounded like there was something to it. How could a man as big as Imbray or his companies go bust? And if he hung on, he’d be sure in the long run to get his dough back with plenty of interest.
Outside, he looked to see if Pat or any other fellows were on the corner, and he was disappointed because they weren’t, so he started home. Down five points more. Big break in all stocks. He tried to force the belief that Ike was right and it was just fluctuation. Jesus, it better be! And if it wasn