The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [366]
“All right,” Studs said.
“Katy Jones is a brave girl. And that partner of hers, Honks Oliver, he’s the deadest old thing. He’s always asleep, falling all over her. And Katy, she’s such a brave girl.”
“Yes, look at her. She’s having a time with him, isn’t she?” Studs watched Katy Jones shift the strain her partner placed on her, his arms flung around her, his head lodged against her stomach, her large breasts wobbling. She shook his head and talked to him.
“If I was Katy, I’d give him a good kick in his ask-me-no-questions,” the woman below them said.
“Say, the Romans were more humane. They fed their people to the lions and didn’t leave them suffer,” a fellow above them said.
“Yes, it makes me ill to look at them,” a girl answered the fellow.
“They look worse than a chain gang walking around the floor,” the fellow said.
Studs saw Katy hold her partner under the arms, again speaking. She locked his hands in hack of her neck and dragged him, lightly slapping his face.
“That Jones dame is a tough gal. She’s always fighting with Honks Oliver,” a fellow to Studs’ right said.
“He’s an old no-good, always sleeping, and the poor girl has to carry him around,” the woman below said, flashing an angry glance at the fellow.
“My, some of the people who come here take it awfully seriously,” Catherine said very low, and Studs smiled, watching Katy Jones.
“Ouch,” Honks Oliver yelled as Katy suddenly bit his ear.
“Good for you! Bite him again, Katy!” the woman below them shouted, standing up and waving her purse.
“Looks like a nice row. I’m glad we stayed,” Studs said, while all over the hall people were shouting, laughing, talking with rising excitement.
“Well, I ain’t a bed or a pillow,” Katy said loudly while the referee and the contestants clustered around her and Honks Oliver.
“If I was Oliver, I’d sock that broad in her kisser. Hell, she sleeps on him, too,” the fellow beside Studs said.
“Wake up, Katy,” a woman cried shrilly from the stands. The siren sounded. Katy and Oliver walked off the floor, followed by others, and a male attendant assisted Squirmy, whose face was besotted with sleep.
“We’ll wait until their rest is over and see what happens.”
“All right,” Studs yawned.
VI
A cheer broke over the hall when Katy Jones and Honks Oliver smiled at each other and joined the dragging parade.
A half dollar landed at Honks’ feet. He picked it up and handed it to Katy, who blew kisses toward the stands. Some dimes and nickels landed. The line wove around and around.
“Shall we go?” Catherine yawned.
“Yes, in a few minutes.”
“Squirmy is still asleep after his rest period.”
“He’s a clown,” Studs said.
“Yes, he’s vulgar,” Catherine said.
A bell sounded and the contestants danced to radio jazz. Ted Delancy and Doris Davis performed a tango in the center of the floor. At the end of three minutes, the marching line re-formed and Ted and Doris picked up the money thrown to them. A stout man arose in a box and waved to Doris. She walked over to him and he handed her a dollar. Katy Jones and Honks Oliver passed him, and he handed Katy a bill. Many cheered.
“Well, I guess we better blow,” Studs said.
“Yes, we’ll just wait a few more minutes and see if anything happens.”
They yawned.
“That fellow who just passed that dough out to Katy Jones, he’s been here for six days straight,” somebody to Catherine’s left said while Studs yawned.
“Ten after one,” Studs said.
VII
“We must go now, Bill,” Catherine said.
“Yeah, Kid. It’s a quarter to three.” They wormed to an aisle in the bleachers and walked downward. Studs watched Harold Morgan floundering.
“Poor Harold,” Catherine said behind him.
Harold catapulted forward. He straightened up and shook his head. He walked zigzag, lurched, lost his balance, and pitched face forward on a bench.
“Oh,” Catherine exclaimed, as the referee rushed to him.
Two male attendants appeared, Harold was lifted to his feet, his nose gushing blood. A woman fainted in the box. Nearly every spectator stood up, and there was a buzzing hum of conversation.