The Amboy Dukes

by Irving Shulman

  “The only cot we got is in the darkroom,” Jackie apologized. “But we got some extra blankets.”

  “So we’ll let one of the babes use the darkroom and Rosie and the other one’ll use the kitchen. You’ll have to keep people out of there,” Bull said.

  “Shimmy’s guys can stand at the door,” Larry said, “and I better go to the darkroom and get Crazy outa there with that stinker.”

  “Who’s Crazy got in there?” Bull asked.

  “You know. Fanny Kane.”

  Bull whistled. “That’s jerky. Leaving him alone in there with her. He’s liable to split her head. Get Mitch and get him outa there. All right, Rosie”—he turned to her—“let’s get started.”

  “How many guys?”

  “About eight and a coupla the Tigers. That’s all. It won’t take too long.”

  Rosie tried to look co-operative but failed. “Gee,” she wailed, “we ain’t been down no half-hour and you got us working.”

  Bull chucked her under the chin. “You know you love it. We’re wastin’ time.”

  The girls puffed nervously on their cigarettes as they stood in the kitchen, where the bright glare of the electric-light bulb in the open ceiling fixture caused everything to stand out in sharp abrupt lines. Jackie and Larry tossed the blankets onto the floor and made rough beds. Jackie knelt down and attempted to be funny by saying the beds were soft, but no one laughed.

  The three girls stood transfixed when they saw Fanny stumble dully into the kitchen, her eyes puffed from crying and her lips swollen from the slaps across the mouth administered by Crazy. Her hair was disheveled and hung in loose strands about her head. Her stockings were in shreds, and the bodice of her dress was ripped to the waist. Haltingly she plodded to the sink, turned the cold-water faucet, and dabbed futilely at her eyes and lips with her hands.

  Rosie approached her and wet a handkerchief. “You poor kid,” she whispered, “what’d they do to you?”

  Fanny collapsed in Rosie’s arms and began to sob, her shoulders shaking as the sobs choked her. She clenched her lips to keep from screaming, but then she could no longer endure the pain and shock, and her cries became wild and hysterical, racking her with their violence.

  “I never done it before!” The words came out singly from her bruised lips. “I never done it before! I begged him to let me go! Never done it before. Never done it before. Never done it—”

  “You sons of bitches!” Rosie faced them. “You no-good sons of bitches to do this to a kid!”

  “Who’s askin’ you?” Crazy blustered.

  Rosie removed one of her shoes and grasped it by the sole. “Come over and I’ll show you, you son of a bitch!”

  “She had it comin’ to her,” Larry said.

  “Comin’ to her?” Rosie looked at him with disbelief. “You mean she coulda done somethin’ so bad that that son of a bitch had to rape this kid?”

  “She stood up Crazy once,” Larry explained.

  “So who in the hell wouldn’t stand up that crazy dope?” Lilly flung her cigarette into the sink, where it hissed sharply before it was extinguished. “Let me help you, Rosie,” she said. “We oughta get some ice for the kid’s lips.”

  “You guys are a bunch of dogs,” Maybelle said. “No-good dogs.”

  Bull opened the kitchen door. “Get out, Crazy. You done enough for one night.”

  “Let’s get this over with,” Maybelle said to Rosie. “Get the guys,” she said to Bull.

  “Bring in Shimmy and his boys,” Bull said to Jackie.

  “How about my guys?” Jackie asked.

  Rosie stopped washing Fanny’s face. “Just the guys who’re protecting this dance,” she said to Bull. “No one else.”

  “Be regular,” Jackie protested. “We didn’t have nothin’ to do with this.”

  Rosie’s look was full of loathing. “Go on, you son of a bitch. We don’t want no part of you or your bunch. Go on,” she ordered Bull, “get them in and let’s get going. We want to take this kid home.”

  Jackie looked at Bull, and Bull shrugged his shoulders.

  “My dress,” Fanny moaned suddenly through her swollen lips. “He tore my dress. I never done it before.”

  Maybelle gently stroked Fanny’s hair. “Take it easy, baby,” she said. “You’re about my size and I’ll fix you up with a dress. I got one something like you’re wearing at home and I’ll give it to you.”

  There was a knock on the kitchen door, and Bull opened it to admit Shimmy and the seven members of his gang.

  “Gee,” one of them whistled, “somebody’s gotten a pasting.”

  “Let me take her outside,” Lilly said, “and I’ll find somebody to take care of her until we get done.”

  “I’ll do it,” Rosie said. “Come on, kid.” She supported Fanny. “We’ll have you outa here in no time.”

  The blare of notes, laughter, and confusion hit Rosie as she entered the steaming clubroom and looked around for someone she knew. She saw Betty and Frank sitting near the band, and Rosie led Fanny to them.

  “Frank,” she said, “I want you and your girl to take care of this kid. She’s had a rough deal.”

  Betty stood up and gently seated Fanny. “Sure,” she said, “What happened?”

  “Some bastard just raped her,” Rosie explained. “One of your guys,” she said to Frank. “Crazy Sachs.”

  Frank held his throat and shut his eyes. “I’m through with them after tonight,” he said half to himself.

  “So’m I,” Rosie said. “I don’t like sons of bitches or guys who’re friends of sons of bitches. We got some work in the back.” Her laugh was contemptuous. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Betty held Fanny’s head on her shoulder. Frank nervously lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and ground the cigarette underfoot.

  “We’ll go as soon as she gets back.” He gestured toward the kitchen.

  “Suits me.” Betty closed Fanny’s torn dress with one hand. “This is really some dance.”

  “I know.” Frank lit another cigarette, looked at it distastefully, and threw it away. He saw Benny approaching him and wanted to ignore him, but he decided he had had enough nastiness to last him for the evening without another fight to climax everything.

  “Someone’s at the door to see you,” Benny said. “You sold him two ten o’clock tickets and it’s after twelve now and he first wants to get in.”

  Frank stood up. “Who is it?”

  “Go see.” Benny spun around and left him.

  “I’ll be right back,” Frank said to Betty.

  Since Shimmy and his gang were not on hand to urge the holders of eleven o’clock tickets to leave, the clubroom had become a milling jam of people, and the floor was so crowded that the dancing now consisted mainly of the dancers lifting their eyebrows in time to the music. Tediously Frank forced his way through the mob until he came to the checkroom.

  “Frank”—Larry raised his hand over his head and urged him to hurry—“this guy says he couldn’t get here before and wants to come in.”

  When Frank had sold two tickets to Stan Alberg he had never expected Stan to use them. Now Stan stood there smiling down at him, and beside him stood his wife.

  “I couldn’t get here before,” Stan apologized. “I hope I’m not going to have to shell out another five bucks.”

  “Let him in,” Frank said to Larry. “You know who he is. He’s the gym teacher at the Center.”

  Larry nodded and ducked under the counter into the checkroom. “Check your things,” he said. “Twenty-five cents each.”

  Stan picked fifty cents from the coins in his hand and gave them to Larry in exchange for the cardboard checking tags.

  “Come in,” Frank invited them. “I never thought you’d come.”

  “We didn’t either,” Reba replied, “but I changed Stan’s mind.”

  “Where’re you sitting?” Stan coughed. “This place could stand some ventilation.”

  “Over there.” Frank pointed and bit
his lip. Fanny was sitting with Betty.

  “Thanks for inviting us to join you,” Stan said sarcastically. “We’ll follow you.”

  Frank looked back and saw Larry watching them. Now it didn’t seem like such a good idea, but at the time it was an easy way to get rid of two tickets. But really it didn’t make any difference because after tonight he was through with the Dukes.

  Fanny was still huddled in Betty’s arms, and Stan and Reba were silent, waiting for an introduction and an explanation.

  “Fanny had a little trouble,” Frank began lamely. “This is my girl, Betty. Mr. and Mrs. Alberg.”

  “I’m glad to know you,” Reba said. “Can I help you?” she asked Betty.

  Fanny shivered and Betty pressed her closer. “No,” she said, “not unless you got some pins with you. Her dress is ripped.”

  Reba rummaged through her purse. “Just when you want them you can’t find them. Here”—she dug deeper into her purse—“I have some. I bought them for one of my neighbors who has a baby and I never gave them to her. Let me help you.” She knelt and took a pin from the card.

  “It’s all right, Fanny,” Betty said to her. “This lady wants to help.”

  Fanny kept her hands over her face, but even in the semidarkness Reba could see the swollen eyes and lips. But what astonished and upset her, made her want to strike out at the tough-faced boys and girls about her who accepted the sight of a beaten girl as a normal occurrence, was the apparent youth of the girl. Deftly she opened the pins and caught both sides of the torn dress and clipped them together.

  “Stan”—she stood up—“I think we ought to take this girl home with us.”

  “Some girls are going to take care of her,” Frank said.

  “I think we oughta leave without them,” Betty said sharply.

  “Too late.” Frank glanced toward the kitchen door, which had opened. “Here they come.”

  Rosie shoved through the mob to them, her face set and grim. “All right,” she said to Betty, “how’s she been?”

  “Crying,” Betty said.

  “The bastards’ll get paid back for that, don’t worry,” Rosie said bitterly. “You ready to go?” she said to Lilly and Maybelle.

  “We’re ready,” Maybelle replied. “Let’s get the hell outa here.”

  “Where are you taking her?” Stan asked.

  Rosie turned on him. “Who the hell wants to know?”

  “Hold your water,” Frank warned. “This guy ‘n’ his wife are my friends and they wanta help her.”

  “So why’re they lookin’ at us that way?” Rosie asked. “We ain’t poison.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stan apologized.

  “Ah,” Rosie grimaced, “guys like you make me sick. Don’t say anythin’”—she stopped him—“I know what you’re thinkin’. And you and your wife know what to do if you don’t like us.”

  “Jesus,” Frank exploded, “is everyone going nuts? Listen, you”—he grasped Rosie’s arm and held her as she struggled to get loose—“Fanny’s hurt and you wanta help her. All right. These people’ll take her home and straighten her out, won’t you?” he appealed to Stan. “You got any place to take her except another club?” he asked Rosie.

  Lilly looked at her friends. “We don’t know. You were gonna get her a dress, weren’t you, Miriam?”

  “The name’s Maybelle.”

  “I’m sorry, Maybelle. I just forgot. I’m all excited.”

  “Yeah,” Maybelle replied. “If we’ll only get started I’ll go home now and get it. You’ll give me your address, mister?” she asked Stan.

  Stan took out a notebook and fountain pen. “I’ll write it down for you. Crown Street,” he said as he wrote, “near Albany. You know how to get there?”

  “Sure.” Maybelle squinted at the name and address. “You come with me, Lilly. We’ll be there in about an hour.”

  “Get our things,” Betty said to Frank. “You have anything checked?” she asked Fanny.

  Fanny reached into her bosom and shook her head. “I lost the check,” she whispered. “It was nothin’. Only my lipstick and a dime in a blue change purse.”

  “I’ll try and get it for you,” Frank said. “You coming, Stan?”

  Stan nodded, and they wormed through the mob. Shimmy and his gang were again busy weeding out the dancers who had stayed beyond their allotted time. The press around the checkroom added to the confusion, and they could hear Larry and Bull cursing at people and telling them to take it easy.

  Frank held out his hand. “Gimme your checks and I’ll get our things.”

  “Think you’ll manage?” Stan smiled. “That’s like the rush hour in the subway.”

  “I will,” Frank said. “Larry!” he shouted. “Let me through, you jerks!” He charged into the mob and shoved people to the right and left of him. “Larry, I’m comin’ through.” Frank ducked under the counter and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. “Wow,” he breathed heavily, “how the hell’re you guys standin’ it?”

  “Whadd’ya want?” Bull asked him as he shoved a hat across the counter. “Two bits!” he yelled to the boy who took the hat.

  “I paid you once,” the boy said.

  “Then scram,” Bull said, “you’re blockin’ traffic.”

  Frank juggled the checks. “How about giving me my stuff and Fanny Kane’s? She lost her check. She said it was a little blue pocketbook.”

  “I want you to hang around.” Larry took the checks from him. “You ain’t done nothin’ but take it easy all night except when you were fightin’ with Mitch, Shimmy, Benny, and Crazy. You must think you’re a hard character”—he gave Betty’s purse to Frank—“but you’re taking on an awful load.”

  “You guys bother me.”

  “We can’t figure you out,” Larry went on. “You usta be a nice guy and now you just go around fightin’ with Benny and Crazy. I still think you and Benny got somethin’ worrying you, but if you don’t wanta talk about it, that’s all right with me.”

  “I’m waiting for our stuff,” Frank interrupted him.

  “I’m gettin’ your things,” Larry said. “But you’re staying here. We got some work for you.”

  “I was takin’ Fanny over to Mr. Alberg’s.”

  “So you won’t. Why the hell are you getting mixed up in that? You know”—Larry paused—“if you wouldn’t’ve given Crazy a lousing that time the kid wouldn’ta been hurt now. How’s she look?”

  “Like I’d like Crazy to look. Are you kidding about me hangin’ around?”

  “If he is, I’m not,” Bull answered. “You gotta help us. I hardly been outa this room all night.”

  “They’re waiting for me,” Frank protested. “Stan Alberg, his wife, and everyone.”

  “That’s another thing.” Bull matched two checks and threw a hat to Larry. “What was the idea of selling tickets to him?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because he’s down at that lousy Center, and all they do down there is go to the cops so they can sponsor clubs together. And I don’t like the way he looks. And I don’t like cops.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t like the way you look.”

  Bull was reaching for another hat but paused. “Listen, wise guy”—he shoved Frank against the wall—“you watch what you’re saying or I’ll start busting you around. You’ve been shootin’ your mouth off all night, and I’m one guy who knows that he can kick the crap outa you. Now you’re staying. If they wanta wait for you it’s all right, or you can meet them when the dance is over. But you’re staying.”

  Frank remembered Shimmy and the way he controlled himself, and instead of yelling at them that after tonight he was through with the Dukes he remained silent until he felt that neither by word nor action would he betray to Bull and Larry how he felt. Two weeks ago he had been glad that the Dukes apparently were willing to reinstate him as a member in good standing, but now he was determined to break with them. After what had happened this night he knew he could drop them graceful
ly, leave them without regret. The only thing they would say about him would be that he was a rat, but it did not worry him.

  When he spoke his voice was composed and nonchalant. “All right, guys,” he said, “I’ll give them their stuff and I’ll be back in a coupla minutes.”

  Larry took a small blue purse from a corner of one of the shelves and handed it to Frank. “Is this Fanny’s?” he asked him.

  Frank opened the purse and nodded. “She said she only had a lipstick and a dime.” He collected the hats and purses and asked Larry to raise the counter. “Help me get through here,” he said.

  Larry forced a path through the crowd, and Frank repeated that he would return in a minute.

  Shimmy and his boys were slowly losing their control over the crowd. The Dukes had sold tickets to clubs and gangs who prided themselves on not backing down for anyone, and against one wall of the room the Thatford Giants had isolated two of Shimmy’s gang and were slapping them around. Shimmy struggled to break through the ring of Giants but stopped when one of the Giants, a six-foot boy with a broken nose and a scar that extended from his left temple to the chin, brandished an iron poker in his hand and invited Shimmy to step forward and have his head split open.

  “You want me to plug him?” one of the squat gangsters asked Shimmy.

  Shimmy shook his head. “They’ll murder us if you do. Why don’t you cut it out?” he asked the Giant. “We don’t want no trouble.”

  “We’re not shellin’ out no two and a half bucks to hang around here for an hour,” the Giant said. “We don’t take that crap from no one, least from a stinker like you. Who’d you ever kill?” The Giant swung the poker threateningly. “I never seen your picture in no post office.”

  Frank grinned as he heard the Giant telling off Shimmy.

  “Here”—he gave Stan his hat and Reba’s purse—“you go ahead and I’ll try and get away soon.”

  “You’re not coming?” Betty asked him.

  “I gotta stay,” he apologized. “We’re liable to have trouble and I gotta hang around.”

  Rosie snatched Fanny’s purse from his hand. “He’s like the rest of them sons of bitches. He must be hangin’ around because they’re gonna line up some other babes.”