King Cole

by W. R. Burnett

  “Ask Gregg.”

  “Mr. Upham? What am I supposed to do, Mr. Upham? I ought to do something for ten bucks.”

  “I’ll say you should,” said Lou Edwards.

  “I don’t like that crack,” said the girl. “Governor, I’m surprised at you being with these people.”

  “They’re all a little tight,” said Read. “Don’t mind them. You’re safe enough. Nothing to worry about.”

  Georgia laughed a little unpleasantly.

  “Lou seems to go for brunettes. She’s young enough to be your daughter, Lou.”

  “Not quite.”

  “Say,” said the girl, “I don’t like to be stared at. How come you don’t introduce me to people, Mr. Upham?”

  Gregg, very drunk, bowed low and almost fell over.

  “People meet Kitten Reese. Kitten, meet everybody. Now that’s settled. Well, you people, what do you say? Got anything to beat her? She’d be Miss Ohio overnight.”

  The girl laughed.

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t. I went into one of them contests at Olentangy Park. I didn’t get to first base.”

  “The other girls must have had friends.”

  “No,” said the girl, seriously; “I’m too short. My legs aren’t long enough. I don’t look good in a bathing suit.”

  “That’s what you think,” said Lou Edwards.

  “Say, who is that guy?”

  “Don’t mind him,” said Read.

  “Do I win my bet?” cried Gregg.

  “What bet? Nobody bet.”

  There was a prolonged uproar. Read turned and sat down on the big red lounge. He lit a cigarette. The girl hesitated, then came to sit with him.

  “Can I have one?”

  Read offered her his pack. She took a cigarette and he held the match for her. Noticing that his hand was shaking, she held it steady, then laughed. ”You’re nervous.”

  “A little.”

  She glanced about her hurriedly; everybody was arguing; nobody was paying any attention to her except Ina Dodson, who was glaring.

  “Really,” she said, “are these the kind of people you run around with, Governor?”

  “Not entirely.”

  “Oh, I get it. Sort of cutting loose.”

  Read laughed.

  “Yes, I guess so. Is your name really Kitten?”

  “No, but that’s what everybody calls me. My name’s Mary. It’s too simple; I don’t like it. I used to call myself Ramona, but, I don’t know, I kind of got tired of that.”

  “I say you did,” cried Gregg above the tumult. “Oh, hell. I might have known you’d all welsh. All right. Turn on the music. Let’s dance. Bobby, Bobby! More drinks.” He came over to the lounge. ”Don’t waste your time with that ascetic, middle-aged man, Kitten. Dance with me.”

  “No. I want to sit here. I’m tired. I have been on my feet all evening. Say, what do I have to do to earn that ten?”

  “Nothing, honey. Just be yourself.”

  Gregg glanced from Read to Kitten, then he shrugged and began to dance with Ina, who was very very nice to him and danced cheek to cheek whenever she thought Read was looking.

  “Say,” said Kitten, leaning toward Read, “that Mr. Upham; is he nuts?”

  “No. Drunk. He thinks you’re the best-looking girl in the city. That’s why he brought you up here.”

  “He is nuts.”

  THREE: SATURDAY

  I

  Read glanced at his watch, then started. A quarter to three! Getting up, he found that he was quite drunk and that the room swayed a little. Georgia Carter was sleeping on the divan with an arm flung across her face; Pat Garrison was sitting nearby, nodding in a chair, trying to pretend that he was still enjoying the party. The rest, with the exception of Kitten, were still dancing, laughing and talking. Kitten had been sitting on the lounge with Read. She had danced once with Gregg and once with Read, but had refused to dance with the other men. Read could see that she did not approve of these people at all; and this seemed very funny to him.

  He put down his glass, was pushed aside by Gregg, who was dancing with Ina; then he laughed and went back to the lounge.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said.

  She jumped up.

  “Me, too. Will it be all right with Mr. Upham?”

  “Did you get your money?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then you haven’t anything to worry about.”

  “Well, gee; it’s nearly three. How will I get home? I just won’t ride one of them owl cars with the drunks.”

  Read hesitated. He knew what he should do; go home; forget about Kitten Reese, who was just a commonplace little girl after all. He had a hard three days ahead of him; he needed rest.

  “Let Gregg get a taxi for you.”

  Kitten stamped her foot.

  “I thought you’d take me. I want to go with you.”

  Read was pleased.

  “Well,” he said, hesitating a little, “come on.” They went out into the hallway. Read held her coat for her. “It’s funny,” she said, laughing; “the Governor helping me on with my coat.”

  Gregg pulled away from Ina, who was drunk and amorous and entirely oblivious of Read now, and came out into the hallway.

  “Going, Read?”

  “It’s nearly three. Do you keep this up all the time?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” said Gregg, staring at them foggily. “To tell you the truth, all days and all nights are getting to be pretty much the same to me. Read, don’t take that girl with you. You’re tight. I can tell it.”

  “He’s going to take me home,” said Kitten, sharply.

  “Don’t worry, Kitten,” said Gregg. “Stick around. I’ll get you home. The Governor don’t want you tagging along. I’ll bet you live to hell and gone.”

  “I don’t live six blocks from the Governor’s Mansion; north of Long Street.”

  “Oh, over in the black belt. Is there a nigger in your woodpile, honey?”

  “You shut up. I didn’t want to come up here, but you made me. You thought it was a swell joke; I wasn’t good enough for that bunch of drunks in there. Just look at ’em.” She turned and smiled at Read. “But I’m glad I came.”

  “Oh,” said Gregg, “I get it. Read, for God’s sake, have some sense. Don’t let that little slicker tie on to you.”

  Read flushed slightly.

  “I know my own business. Anyway, you brought her up here. You didn’t show any too much sense. I think it’s up to me to see that she gets home.”

  “Put her in a taxi. When I waved a ten-dollar bill in her face she began to listen to reason. That will give you a rough idea.”

  “Go ahead,” said the girl, heatedly. “Insult me. But I’m a lot better than you are; you and your frowzy old women.”

  Read put his hand on her arm.

  “Not so loud. You don’t want them to hear you in there. They didn’t do anything to you. Do you want to hurt their feelings?”

  She turned and looked up at Read docilely.

  “No, I don’t. But he oughtn’t to talk that way to me. If I can use ten dollars, that’s none of his business, and it’s not my fault. We can’t all be rich.”

  “What a line!” said Gregg, snorting with disgust. Then he studied Read’s face. “And he’s just drunk enough to fall for it.”

  Read took the girl by the arm.

  “Goodnight, Gregg. Nice party.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Read. There’s an election in a few days. Suppose that wild Irishman that drives your car would climb a pole. Wouldn’t you like to see the headlines in the Independent?”

  Read laughed. He was feeling perverse now.

  “I might get the women’s vote.”

  “Well, I’d think you would,” said Kitten. “A good-looking guy like you.”

  Gregg groaned.

  “Goodnight!” he cried. Then he turned and walked back into the living-room.

  Read and Kitten went out and took the automatic elevator. The lobby wa
s dark and deserted; they saw the night clerk dozing in a little room behind the office. When Read opened the big front door, Kitten gasped and drew back. The wind was blowing hard and it was very cold. The sky had been swept clean of all clouds; the stars glittered brilliantly and coldly in the soft black night.

  “Oh, I can hardly get my breath.”

  Barney was sleeping, huddled up against the steering wheel. Read woke him.

  “Excuse me, Governor. I…” Then he saw the girl. His mouth dropped open; he recovered, and got out to open the door.

  “Gee, what a nice car,” said Kitten.

  “What’s your address?” Read asked, not looking at Barney.

  “Four-o-five North Wilton.”

  They got in. Barney closed the door, looking at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

  When Barney drove off, the girl got up very close to Read and said:

  “Just like a dream. There I was, tired as I could be, and all I could think about was going home and getting to bed. Gee, I didn’t want to go with Mr. Upham. I didn’t trust him. But, anyway, I can take care of myself. I got to, working around a hotel with all them wise traveling salesmen. But I’m glad I went. I never would have met you.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing meeting me.” Read was enjoying this; he wanted more.

  “Think not? Why, any girl I know would give five years of her life to be sitting here like this. Gee, I almost dropped over that day in the Massey when I found out who you were. I liked you before I found out. You just kind of walked up sort of important and I said to myself: ‘I’ll bet he’s a big shot.’ And then when I found out… gee, I almost dropped over.”

  “And asked for an autograph for your little brother.”

  “Did I? I was all excited. I haven’t got any little brother. I just wanted it for myself, I guess.”

  Read laughed. He took the girl’s hand and sat holding it. She got closer to him.

  “You know,” she said, “a couple of my girlfriends were over to my room the other morning and one of them got to telling fortunes with cards, and she told me something pretty important was going to happen to me.”

  “You believe in fortunetelling?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve seen it come out right time after time. Like the time my sister lost her garnet ring… that was in Detroit. Anyway, she found it.”

  “Does your sister live here?”

  “No, I’m all alone. I mean, no relatives. I live with a girlfriend. Maude Anderson. She’s tall and I’m short. They call us Mutt and Jeff, people do. She’s a good kid. But she has acne.”

  “She has what?”

  “Acne. You know, pimples on her face. It’s awful. I feel sorry for her. Boys don’t like her. She’s got a real nice boyfriend now though. He’s got acne, too, so it’s all right. He works in a garage. You ought to see him drive a car. Boy, he can make one do tricks. What kind of car is this?”

  “A Cadillac.”

  “Really? First time I’ve ever ridden in one. But I’ve ridden in a Pierce. Boy I used to know had one. That’s all he had.” She laughed.

  “How old are you, Kitten?”

  “Twenty-four; nearly twenty-five.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “I know. My father was the same. He didn’t look thirty when he died and he was almost fifty.”

  Of a sudden Read became sharply aware of her presence; a delicate scent rose from her hair; he felt her warmth through her thick coat. He drew away slightly and sat staring out at the housefronts they were passing. This was silly!

  “Why so silent? Cat got your tongue? Gee, it’s nice and cozy and warm in here.” She sat up and looked out. “Oh, we’re almost there.”

  When she sank back Read put his arm around her. She didn’t seem to notice. After a moment, she put her head on his shoulder. Read glanced uncomfortably at Barney’s broad back, wondering if he could see what was going on in the rear-view mirror.

  “Are you going to be elected?” asked Kitten.

  “I hope so.”

  “I’m going to vote for you, but everybody I know is going to vote for Mr. Fielding. Dewey says he’s a great man. Dewey is Maude’s boyfriend. I saw Mr. Fielding in the hotel the other day. Isn’t he a funny old man? He called me ‘sister’ and he tipped me a dime.”

  Bending down quickly, Read kissed her. Her lips were soft and cool and unresponsive.

  “You shouldn’t do that,” she said, dispassionately.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you shouldn’t.”

  Read kissed her again. Her arms tightened; her lips were warm now; she returned his kiss.

  “Really you shouldn’t. Here you go, getting me kind of crazy about you, and I’ll probably never see you again. Oh, my; you smell of alcohol. Why do you drink? I never drink. I hate drinking. A girl’s a fool to drink with men. That’s the way a lot of them get into jams.”

  “I don’t drink much.”

  They were kissing again. She began lightly to caress his face with her fingertips. Suddenly she drew away and sat up.

  “Here we are. Third house on the right. I live on the third floor. It’s kind of a dump, but what can I do? Gee, I was out of work for two months. Was I broke! I got to go, Governor.”

  Read was heated now. He drew her back for another kiss. Barney drove slowly along the curb, looking for the number; finally, he got out his flashlight. Presently, he stopped the car.

  The girl pulled away, laughing a little.

  “Don’t you ever let yourself get broke again,” said Read, feeling very magnanimous. “You don’t need to worry about money. Just let me know.”

  The girl sat up abruptly.

  “You and Mr. Upham have got the wrong idea about me. I’m not that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Well, you know. I do need money. Who doesn’t? But I won’t make it that way.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Read, sharply. “I didn’t mean that.” He dropped his hands and moved back from the girl.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she said in a very contrite voice. “Are you sore? Please don’t be sore. This has been just like a dream to me.”

  Read relented.

  “Maybe I didn’t put it in the right way. I mean, don’t worry about being broke. If you get broke, I’ll be glad to help you. You could pay it back.” Read felt that he was behaving like a fool; and it was a rather unusual feeling for him, as he had always managed his life so carefully. Let the girl go. Forget her. She was such an ordinary little girl.

  Kitten took his face between her hands and kissed him.

  “There! That’s for being so sweet. Please don’t be sore. If you knew what I’ve got to put up with all the time. Them dirty clucks at the hotel! I could be on Easy Street to hear them tell it. But they really think I ought to give them a good time for a pair of stockings or a new hat.”

  Read winced. He was just like the rest. Why try to pretend otherwise?

  “I’m not like that,” he said.

  “No, I don’t think you are. All the same you’d like a good time, I think.”

  Read flushed.

  “Naturally.”

  Barney hesitated, then opened the door. Read’s lips tightened. Was Barney trying to look after him, too?

  “Oh, thanks,” said Kitten, as Barney helped her out.

  Read got out also. He walked up to the old dark ramshackle frame house with the girl. They kissed in the shadow of the porch. Kitten was warm and clinging, but Read suddenly let her go. The gin was beginning to wear off; he felt very tired and very much ashamed of himself.

  “Well, I’m going.”

  Kitten clung to his hand.

  “Will I see you again? Don’t answer. I know I won’t. But I’m going to pretend.”

  Read turned and walked toward the car. He heard Kitten sob, then she ran across the porch and into the house.

  Barney was holding the door open.

  “Some things are confidential,” said Read.

  Barney seemed offended.r />
  “You don’t have to tell me, Governor.”

  It was after four when Read got home. The house was dark and silent. He went to his room, took off his shoes, coat and vest, and lay down outside the covers. Gradually, he drifted into sleep.

  II

  That morning Read felt better than he had expected to, and after he had eaten, he went into the library and in less than an hour had written a complete outline of his Memorial Hall speech. Smiling with satisfaction, he suddenly thought about Kitten. A pleasant glow stole all through him. He felt young, alert, vital; able to cope with the difficulties ahead of him. “I must see her today,” he told himself; then laughing, he went on: “You idiot! Doesn’t it occur to you that you’re the Governor and that you’re trying to get re-elected and that Kitten is a silly little girl, none too fastidious!” He thought about Eileen vaguely, and quickly dismissed her from his mind. Boyle came in with a letter on a tray.

  “Special delivery, Governor.”

  Read took the letter. Boyle went out. Read tore open the envelope without looking at it and began to read the letter with half his mind. Then he started, turned, looked for a chair, and sat down. The letter was from the Commandant of Cadets at Benton Academy. Johnny was in some kind of trouble.

  Dear Governor:

  It is my painful duty to let you know that your son, John Cole, together with three others boys, has been guilty of several serious infractions of the rules. He has been sentenced to quarters till his case is disposed of.

  As you know, we have local option in our town. As a protection to our students, liquor cannot be obtained here. Nevertheless, your son and his friends managed somehow to obtain several quarts of whiskey and they became intoxicated and created a vulgar disturbance on the streets of our little town.

  This is not the worst of it. They also gave liquor to two waitresses who work in a local restaurant. Then they took these two miserable girls over into a cornfield near the Athletic Field, where they raised such a disturbance that the local constable was summoned by some of the neighbors. The boys ran away but the girls were arrested and taken to jail, where they spent the night.

  No one in town can or will identify the boys and of course the constable does not know which of our boys it was. Out of deference to yourself, remembering how much we all owe you, these identities will never be publicly divulged.