U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [158]
GERMANY IMMINENT. "If America go to war with Ger-many cops wil arrest al Italian man to send back to Italy for fight, see? My friend tel who work in consule'soffice; tel me, see? I wil not go fight in capitalista war."
-397-office; tel me, see? I wil not go fight in capitalista war." Charley tried to kid him along, but a worried set look came over Grassi's face and as soon as it was dark he left Charley saying he was going back to the flop and going to bed.
Charley walked round the streets alone. There was a warm molasses smel from the sugar refineries, whiffs of gardens and garlic and pepper and oil cookery. There seemed to be women everywhere, in bars, standing round streetcorners, looking out invitingly behind shutters ajar in al the doors and windows; but he had twenty dol ars on him and was afraid one of them might lift it off him, so he just walked around until he was tired and then went back to the room, where he found Grassi already asleep with the covers over his head.
It was late when he woke up. The parrot was squawking on the gal ery outside the window, hot sunlight fil ed the room. Grassi was not there.
Charley had dressed and was combing his hair when
Grassi came in looking very much excited. He had taken a berth as donkey-engineman on a freighter bound for South America. "When I get Buenos Aires goodby and no more war," he said. "If Argentina go to war, goodby again." He kissed Charley on the mouth, and insisted on giving him his accordion and there were tears in his eyes when he went off to join the boat that was leaving at noon. Charley walked al over town inquiring at garages and machineshops if there was any chance of a job. The streets were broad and dusty, bordered by low shuttered frame houses, and distances were huge. He got tired and dusty and sweaty. People he talked to were darned agreeable but nobody seemed to know where he could get a job. He decided he ought to stay through the Mardi Gras
anyway and then he would go up North again. Men he
talked to told him to go to Florida or Birmingham,
Alabama, or up to Memphis or Little Rock, but every--398-body agreed that unless he wanted to ship as a seaman there wasn't a job to be had in the city. The days dragged along warm and slow and sunny and smel ing of molasses from the refineries. He spent a great deal of time reading in the public library or sprawled on the levee watching the niggers unload the ships. He had too much time to think and he worried about what he was going to do with himself. Nights he couldn't sleep wel because he hadn't done anything al day to tire him.
One night he heard guitarmusic coming out of a joint cal ed "The Original Tripoli," on Chartres Street. He went in and sat down at a table and ordered drinks. The waiter was a Chink. Couples were dancing in a kind of wrestling hug in the dark end of the room. Charley de-cided that if he could get a girl for less than five seeds he'd take one on. Before long he found himself setting up a girl who said her name was Liz to drinks and a feed. She said she hadn't had anything to eat al day. He asked her about Mardi Gras and she said it was a bum time because the cops closed everything up tight. "They rounded up al the waterfront hustlers last night, sent every last one of them up the river.""What they do with 'em?""Take 'em up to Memphis and turn 'em loose . . . ain't a jail in the state would hold al the floosies in this town." They laughed and had another drink and then they danced. Charley held her tight. She was a skinny girl with little pointed breasts and big hips.
"Jez, baby, you've got some action," he said after they'd been dancing a little while. "Ain't it ma business to give the boys a good time?" He liked the way she looked at him. "Say, baby, how much do you get?""Five bucks."
"Jez, I ain't no mil ionaire . . . and didn't I set you up to some eats?""Awright, sugarpopper; make it three." They had another drink. Charley noticed that she took some kind of lemonade each time. "Don't you ever drinkanything, Liz?"
-399-anything, Liz?" "You can't drink in this game, dearie; first thing you know I'd be givin'