Girls' Dormitory

by Orrie Hitt

  "Not bad," she said.

  "We accomplished a lot."

  "So I did."

  The late afternoon light was coming in through one of the dormer windows and fell in around her. Yes, she had good legs. And a high bust. Hadn't her halter slid just a little and wasn't the cleft a lot deeper than he had ever seen it before? She must have realized the same thing because she adjusted the halter, sort of embarrassed, and the whole thing was spoiled.

  "Anything else?" he wanted to know.

  "You can start painting tomorrow. I got a roller for you and flat white. The job ought to go fast."

  "I mean for today."

  "You ought to look at the pot stove," she said. "The girls will be wanting hot water."

  “That damned pot stove. Why don't you have one of those automatic gas things put in?"

  "They cost money."

  "So does coal."

  "But I've already got the pot stove."

  He shut up. What was the use? There had been that man out from the power company the year before, figuring out for her what she would save on gas in the long run, and she had turned the deal down. All she wanted was money coming in and nothing going out.

  "One coat of paint ought to do it up here," she said. "It'll brighten things up a lot."

  With six windows, the attic was pretty bright anyway.

  "Sure."

  "I'm getting the cots from one of those outlet places."

  "Oh?"

  "Not in town. You can't buy anything in town. They take your teeth for what you buy here in Youngsville."

  "You're lucky. I don't have enough money to get out of town."

  "Now you're griping."

  "A little."

  "Forty a week isn't bad."

  "Or good."

  "You get your board and room."

  "Some room."

  They kept it up, talking back and forth, and he continued to complain. She didn't mind because he had been complaining about one thing or another ever since he had come to work for her. She expected it and he had the idea that she rather enjoyed his suffering. He was one male that she could dominate.

  They started down the stairs. She was in front of him and he noticed her perfume for the first time. It wasn't expensive perfume but smooth and the mood of it seemed to fit her—a little wild, a little tame and a whole lot mysterious. He wished that he could figure her out. One minute, like up in the attic, she had acted as though she might be ready for anything that he wanted to do, and the next second he knew that she would have screamed if he had touched her. She wasn't as pretty as some as the other girls and not as young as any of them, but he couldn't be around something like that for two years and not have a couple of thoughts about what he was looking at.

  She halted at the bottom of the stairs, blocking his way.

  "Just a second," she said.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Something you shouldn't see."

  "More work?"

  Thelma Reid laughed.

  "A girl."

  "What girl?"

  "I don't know what girl. She was running toward the bathroom without anything on."

  "And you made me miss it."

  "She's gone now."

  "Fine thing."

  He followed her out of the stairway, along the hall and down the next flight of stairs. He could hear girls laughing and a radio playing. When they reached the second floor she turned and faced him.

  "If you hadn't drunk so much up in the attic I'd ask you down to my room for one," she said.

  This was the first time she had ever suggested such a thing.

  "I didn't know you drank."

  "There's a lot of things you don't know."

  "There must be."

  "And I know a lot of things that you don't think I know."

  He didn't like that. "Go on."

  "I've heard you coming upstairs early in the mornings. I know what you do."

  "Check the heat."

  "Hardly. I'm not that stupid. You wouldn't get out of bed at five o'clock to check the heat if the furnace was out and there was ice hanging from the ceiling."

  She was right about that.

  "I won't make so much noise the next time." So she wasn't stupid.

  "I'll use my magic carpet."

  "It's not very funny, Jerry."

  "Nothing's funny around here except maybe one thing. My forty bucks a week is the funniest thing I ever heard of."

  "Back to that again?"

  "Back to that."

  Her halter had slid down a little and she adjusted it again.

  "You want to quit?"

  "I didn't say so."

  "For thirty a week I could get somebody who would stay in the cellar where they belong."

  "Why don't you?"

  "Because I like you."

  "Is that a fact?"

  "Have I ever told you so before?"

  "No."

  "Maybe I won't tell you so again," she said, going down the hall. "Maybe I'll change my mind."

  He watched her go, watched her until the door at the end of the hall had closed behind her. How did you figure a dame like that? He scratched his head and started down the stairs. You didn't try to figure a dame, that's what you didn't do. They were all nuts. All of them except maybe one and he didn't know about the blonde. Sometime he would find out about her. Sometime, given half a chance, he really would. And he would find out about Thelma Reid, too. The two of them ought to be fun. What one didn't know the other would.

  And what neither of them knew he would be more than glad to teach them.

  The wind was cold, very cold. It blew up Kennedy Street, played around his ankles and made a whistling sound as it sucked around the corner. A cab, stuck in a snowdrift, rocked back and forth, its tires hissing as the driver raced the motor. As Jerry went past the cab the driver motioned for him to give a push but he had no time for that. He had to settle this business with Frank for once and for all and he had to settle it fast.

  He turned in at the rooming house.

  The lower hall was cold. Frank had all the radiators shut off in the halls and he only sent a minimum of heat up to the rooms. His customers, Frank said, were either drunk or sleeping with somebody else so why did they need the heat?

  Jerry continued through the hall. He turned right at the end and pushed open a closed door without knocking.

  Frank was seated on the edge of the bed, dressed in shorts and looking at a magazine.

  "You ever see one of these nudist books?" Frank wanted to know, turning the magazines around so Jerry could see it. "The guys and the dames in there don't have a thing on. And only fifty cents. Hell, I've been wastin' my money on that other trash."

  With his left hand Jerry reached down and snatched the magazine from Frank's hands and threw it on the floor. With his other hand he cuffed Frank alongside the face.

  "You stinking crumb," Jerry said. "I ought to kill you." Frank blinked his eyes rapidly and rubbed the side of his face.

  "You got no call to do that," he said. Jerry slapped Frank again. Frank's head bounced and he tried to cover his face with his arms.

  "What's with you and the girl?" Jerry demanded.

  "What girl?"

  "You know what girl. Helen."

  Frank slid along the bed and stood up. Jerry was raging inside but he knew he had to handle Frank carefully. Frank could cause trouble, big trouble. Frank, he decided, had to be ruled by fear.

  "I'm takin' nothin' from you," Frank mumbled.

  "I asked you a question. You going to answer me?"

  Frank fumbled on the dresser for a cigarette and then threw the empty pack aside.

  "You got to see my point," Frank said. Both sides of his face were red. "You got to understand. Business is slow, stinking, and if I don't pay my bills I'm out on the street."

  "What bills?"

  "The mortgage, for one thing."

  "Who'd give you a mortgage on this dump?"

  "Well, they did. Five y
ears ago and it's got five years to run. The bank, the one on Crawford Street, they're the ones who gave it to me. And there's other bills, plenty of bills. You get a place like this, renting out rooms, and you think it's all gravy. But it isn't."

  "You ought to be married to Thelma Reid. You two would get along fine."

  "Who's she?"

  "Never mind. Tell me about this business with Helen."

  "She's been comin' here goin' on two years."

  "That's right."

  "I never bothered her none."

  "But now you're making up for lost time."

  "I know what she did and I know what you did. You found the guys and she took them up to the room. I didn't mind that none. I got my ten bucks every week and that was pretty good for two nights. Then I got to thinking."

  "You think too much."

  "I got to thinking that she's using my place, so I'm runnin' a risk in a way and why shouldn't I get a little bit more?"

  "Your little bit is a whole lot."

  "Twenty-five percent."

  "Too much."

  "How much isn't too much?"

  "Ten bucks. For two nights."

  "But I'm runnin' a risk," Frank protested. "Can you imagine what would happen to me if the cops came in here and caught up with her?"

  "They'd give you a lecture."

  "They'd fine me."

  "All right. They'd fine you. If it ever comes to that I'll pay your fine."

  "But what have I got left?"

  "The same as you've got now—nothing."

  Frank hitched up his shorts and shook his head.

  "I don't like it," he said. "It's got to be more."

  Jerry leaned forward, his voice savage.

  "I'm telling you it won't be more:"

  "What's she to you?"

  "Nothing."

  "Then what do you care?"

  "Only that she don't want to work this way, that's what I care. She don't work and I don't make any money. Get me? I had a good thing going and you had to go and mess it up. That's why I came down here. One of us is out in left field chasing nothing. And it isn't me. It's you, Frank. You and your hungry little fists. You don't know when to take what you can get and be satisfied."

  "I told you why."

  "You told me, yes, but I don't swallow it. How much do you get for that room if we don't use it?"

  "Nothing," Frank admitted.

  "All right. Take your pick. Ten bucks or nothing."

  Jerry felt like slamming Frank in the mouth, driving him into the wall. It was tough to get a room for a girl like Helen, very tough. Most places, even the hotels, were afraid to take a chance. Of course, she could always go to one of the better houses where the college kids didn't go, but that would leave him with an empty pocket and he didn't want that.

  "You know any other kids?" Frank Was asking.

  "What?"

  "Kids like this Helen?"

  "Maybe. Why?"

  "I was thinking, if you could get a couple more of them lined up we could both do some real business."

  "I doubt it," Jerry said. "College girls aren't usually that kind."

  "They like their sex. She isn't the only one who comes here with a guy."

  "That may be, but that's different. Helen isn't typical of college girls."

  "They like their sex," Frank maintained stubbornly.

  "Sure they do."

  "I read where less than ten percent of them come out of those places as virgins."

  "I doubt that."

  "Well, I don't."

  Jerry shrugged. "Suit yourself. We're getting away from what we were talking about."

  "Twenty-five percent."

  "Nuts."

  "Or I write a letter to the school about her."

  Jerry hit Frank then, hit him hard, driving him half the length of the room. Frank hit the wall, bounced off it, and Jerry gave it to him again.

  "I should kill you," Jerry said.

  It wasn't any fight. Frank couldn't do a thing. Blood dripped from his nose and he started to slobber. Jerry grabbed him by the skin on his bare chest, twisted it painfully, and held Frank straight up.

  "You want more?"

  "Cut it out!"

  "I'll cut it out when you see things my way. I'll cut it. out when you get off of Helen's back."

  "Cripes—"

  Jerry hit Frank again and again with the open palm of his hand, and Frank's head snapped back and forth.

  "You listening to me?" he shouted. "You listening to me, you no-good bum?"

  Frank tried to nod his head.

  "Cut it out!"

  "I told you when I'd cut it out."

  "Ten per cent."

  "Not a dime."

  Jerry had stopped hitting Frank but he still held the smaller man so that it hurt. Frank was breathing heavily, gasping, and blood was all over his chin.

  "You can't blame me for trying."

  "Not a bit."

  "It was there and I saw it and I wanted some. You can't blame a guy for that."

  "No."

  "Let me go."

  "No."

  "You know what I mean. Money."

  "Sure."

  "The other I don't care about."

  "At your age you shouldn't."

  Frank twisted but he couldn't get loose. With one shaking hand he wiped at the blood on his chin.

  "Twenty-five bucks for the room," he said.

  "Nothing else."

  "Ten."

  "Twenty-five."

  Jerry thought about it. Twenty-five was a lot but it wasn't bad. Somebody else might want more.

  "All right." He let Frank go. "Twenty-five. And you leave the girl alone."

  "I told you I don't care about her none."

  "Be sure you don't."

  Jerry turned and walked to the door. Now that it was over, now that it was settled, he felt tired. He didn't like hitting a man smaller than himself. But it wouldn't have made any difference. Big or little, he could take care of himself.

  "You want more," he said, opening the door, "and you know how to get it. Just open up your fat mouth when you should keep it shut."

  He walked out, leaving the door open, casually glancing at the nudist magazine which lay open on the floor. Frank was right; they didn't have a thing on.

  Outside it was colder than before, the wind sharper. The cab had gotten out of the snow but now a truck was stuck. Slowly, wondering vaguely about what the driver would do, Jerry walked north.

  The door was unlocked and opened to his touch. It was dark in the room, very warm, and he could smell the odor of underthings drying over the radiator.

  "You came," she said.

  He closed the door.

  "Yeah."

  "I thought you wouldn't."

  "Well, I said I would."

  He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was close, very close, but he didn't touch her.

  "I'm scared, Jerry," she whispered.

  "About what?"

  "The baby."

  "It's a little late for that, isn't it?"

  "Don't be rude."

  "I'm not being. I just said."

  She reached out and put her hand on one of his arms.

  "Jerry?"

  "What?"

  "Will you help me?"

  Her hand was soft and warm.

  "How?"

  Her fingers closed, opened and then closed tightly on his arm. "I want to get rid of the baby," she said. "I want you to help me find a doctor or somebody who'll do it for me."

  "Don't be a fool."

  "I'm not being a fool. I've thought it all out. What can I do for the baby if it's born? What can I tell it when it grows up?"

  "I don't know," Jerry said.

  "It would be better the other way. The world is bad enough for those who have a chance but when there isn't any chance, when there is nothing at all, it's even worse."

  She started to cry and he didn't know what to do with her. A girl's tears always bot
hered him. Either they were foolish or tragic. Evelyn's tears weren't foolish.

  "I'll do what I can," he said finally.

  "Oh, Jerry!"

  "But I can't promise anything. I don't know anybody like that."

  "Maybe you can find somebody."

  "Maybe."

  Her hand moved up to his face, following the line of his chin.

  "You're sweet," she said.

  He thought of Ellen, how she had died, and he shuddered.

  "I'm a bastard," he said. "Or I wouldn't promise."

  She lifted herself toward him, her lips hungry and filled with fire. She found his mouth, kissed him, and he could taste the salt of her tears.

  "Don't let me down," she begged.

  "I won't."

  But he didn't know whether he would or not.

  CHAPTER 9

  Helen crept down the stairs, her bare feet moving soundlessly over the covered steps. At the second floor she turned left and walked down the hall to the door at the end. She opened the door and entered, closing the door after her.

  "I'm awake," Thelma Reid said from the bed.

  "I thought you would be."

  "Is Peggy asleep?"

  "Yes."

  "What if she gets up?"

  "She never does."

  Thelma laughed. "Not unless you wake her up, is that it?"

  "Shut up."

  Thelma stirred on the bed and the springs squeaked. "She was out with Jerry tonight."

  "I know."

  "Aren't you jealous?"

  "Shut up."

  "And you were out with Harry Martin. That makes me jealous."

  "Does it?"

  "You know it does."

  Helen sighed deeply, dreading the arguments they always had, and dreading the final, pleading moment which always came.

  "Going with a boy is all right," Helen said. "When you go with a boy nobody gets curious."

  "I suppose so. Not even about you and that Peggy."

  Helen's eyes had become accustomed to the darkness of the room and now she could see Thelma sitting up on the bed. As usual, Thelma was wearing nothing.

  "We've been over all that before," Helen said.

  "And you deny it?"

  "I deny it. There isn't a thing between Peggy and me."

  "You expect me to believe that?"

  "I told you. If you thought such a thing why did you put her in with me?"

  "Because I knew what would happen," Thelma said wisely. "And once it's happened it goes right on happening. Someone in your room with you could do what I couldn't do. Now I'm profiting from the arrangement. Of course, if I had known about you and Jerry and those awful things you were doing on weekends I wouldn't have gone to all the trouble."