“How was what?” Ben sounded surly. He lay in bed with his arm over his eyes. Suddenly he sat up, took his Bogie hat from the bedpost, and threw it into the wastebasket.
“And who says you can just come charging in here without knocking or anything?” he demanded.
“How was the concert?” Charlie asked again. “The Beefeaters. Hey, don’t do that. What’re you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m throwing that lousy old hat away, that’s what.” Ben got out of bed, put his foot in the basket, and stomped everything down as far as it would go.
“Give it to me if you don’t want it,” Charlie yelped. “I love that hat. Give it to me.”
“It’s no good,” Ben said savagely. “It’s just a lousy old hat that looks like it has been caught in a hurricane. Forget it.” He got back into bed and turned his face to the wall.
“What the heck’s the matter with you? You’re some nice guy to have around the house these days. You’re some …”
“Just don’t bug me. Mind your own business. All you and Mom do is bug me. Just don’t talk to me, all right?”
Charlie went outside and sat on the front stoop. It was Sunday. Sunday could be very depressing. What the heck. Falling for some stupid bossy girl sure didn’t improve anyone’s disposition. Look at Ben. Always before he’d been easygoing, laughing, a really nice guy. A friend. Look at him now.
Kathy from across the street saw Charlie and yelled, “Hey, I want Mary back.”
Charlie zoomed back inside, pretending he hadn’t heard her, although he would’ve had to be stone deaf not to. The kid had a voice on her like a foghorn.
It was getting so that even the front stoop was a dangerous spot. Maybe if he snuck out the back door he could get to Arthur’s without anyone’s stopping him.
“Did you empty the garbage?” his mother asked as he scuttled through the kitchen.
“Sure Mom.” From where he was he could see coffee grounds and eggshells pushing the top of the garbage pail into a standing position.
“Have you done your homework?” she asked as he started to empty the garbage.
“Mom, it’s Sunday morning.” He spilled coffee grounds in a tiny trail behind him.
Escape, escape.
“Charlie, would you mind riding your bike down to get the papers? Your father’s still asleep and I’m not dressed,” she said.
Right on. A ride in the open air would be a relief.
As Charlie was stopped at a light, a black Porsche pulled alongside him. He looked at it, thinking, Boy, what I wouldn’t give for a boat like that. A girl’s voice said, “Good morning, Charlie. How are you, dear boy?”
It was Penny. Sitting in the Porsche. Charlie’s mouth dropped open. He stared. He couldn’t help it, he just stared.
The Porsche and Charlie both pulled up outside the paper store, which saved a lot of time because Charlie had planned to follow them anyway.
“Charlie, this is Robby Barnes,” Penny said. She had never sounded friendlier, more sweetsy and phony. “Robby, this is Ben’s brother, Charlie.”
Those must be some bar bells this guy uses, Charlie thought as he shook hands. Wow. This Robby Barnes had a handshake like a pro-football player. He wasn’t any taller than Ben but he was about twice as wide. His neck must’ve measured eighteen inches, Charlie figured, just the way Sammy would’ve. And even though he wore a tweed jacket, Charlie fancied he could see the muscles rippling underneath.
“That’s some car,” Charlie said.
“Isn’t it?” Penny smiled. “Robby wanted to drive to the concert last night but Ben insisted he drive. And anyway there isn’t room for more than two in a Porsche.”
“He went too?” Charlie asked.
“Robby goes to school near where I do. He stopped by yesterday to ask if I wanted a ride back today, so I talked him into staying and going with us,” Penny said, putting her arm through Robby’s.
“How’d you like it?”
“Well, I’ve seen a lot of really fantastic groups play,” Robby said, “but I guess if you’ve never seen any of them, any of the really big ones, they were all right. A little bit amateurish, but they’ll probably shape up with experience.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Penny said.
“I heard they were supposed to be great,” Charlie said. “How about the guy who eats all the hamburger while he plays?”
“He was out sick,” Penny said. “Would you like a ride in Robby’s Porsche, Charlie? It’s fantastic. I bet you’ve never ridden in one before.”
“I bet you never have either,” Charlie said. Behind Robby’s back, Penny narrowed her eyes and drew her finger across her throat in a slitting motion. She did not look friendly.
“No thanks,” Charlie said. “I’ve got to get the papers back before my father wakes up.”
He watched them drive away. He would’ve given anything for a ride in that buggy. But not with El Piggo and Mr. Muscles at the wheel.
19
The telephone was ringing as Charlie came in the door. It was Ack Ack.
“Hey, sport, let me speak to Ben.”
“He’s still in bed, Ack Ack. I don’t think he feels too good.”
“That I can understand. Just give him a message. Tell him I think if I hop on my bike and retrace our route, I might possibly be able to case the spot where the bill blew out the window. With any luck at all, I can find it and, if I do, I’ll take half.”
“What bill?”
“He didn’t tell you? Well, this cat Robby, he offered to pay, he insisted on paying for everybody’s burgers when we went to eat after the concert, and Ben was sore, see, and I don’t blame him. He wasn’t going to let that guy pay for him and Penny, and he took two bucks out of his wallet and threw them at Robby, then he drove away so fast one of the bills blew out the window. I almost jumped out to rescue it but when I got a look at the speedometer, I decided against it. I mean, I might’ve broken an arm or a leg, right? I’m not chicken but I just sat there and watched that bill float away. Now I think I might find it.”
“How come this Robby guy went along?” Charlie asked.
“Penny asked Ben if he minded and what could he say? Of course he minded. She is such a stinker. Robby wanted to pay for a tank of gas and Ben turned him down. Wow. Sometimes I just don’t dig that brother of yours. A free tank of gas and he says Nyet.”
“How was Laurie?” Charlie asked. “How’d you like her?”
“She’s some cool chick. She’s a nice kid, knows a lot about music. She’s in my biology class, you know? So I decided to give biology a whirl, just for starters. So I give the reproductive system of plants a try, on account of that’s what we just covered in class. And you know what? Next thing I know I’m describing to Laurie the reproductive system of humans. I tell you, it was pretty hairy there for a minute.”
Charlie could practically see Ack Ack wiping his forehead.
“My father’s yelling at me,” Ack Ack said. “I’ve got to go. He wants to go to work on my mustache. I gotta beat him to the punch.”
“What are you going to do?” Charlie could hear Ack Ack’s father in the background.
“I’m going to shave it off myself. I never really liked it that much to start with. I just grew it to antagonize the old man. Now that I’ve accomplished my objective, all right. I gotta split, chief. Tell Ben I called. Tell him about the bill.”
“O.K.,” Charlie said.
“Yeh, yeh,” Ack Ack whispered, and was gone.
20
The hat was still in Ben’s wastebasket. Charlie took it out, brushed it off, and tried it on.
“All right, sweetheart,” he lisped, “cut the comedy and tell me where you hid the swag.” Humphrey Bogart to a T. “You fool, you,” Charlie whispered. He was Peter Lorre. Peter Lorre always said that. Charlie figured that he and Lorre were about the same size too, Lorre being an undersized guy.
What did Lorre say besides “You fool, you?” Charlie had s
een The Maltese Falcon about five times on television. The last time, he’d set the alarm for two A.M. when the movie began and then he fell asleep in his father’s chair before it ended, and woke up in the morning just before his mother came down to start breakfast. That was a close one.
“You blundering fathead,” Charlie whispered. He popped his eyeballs out and pulled the hat down at a sinister angle. That was what Lorre called Sidney Greenstreet. Arthur would make a good Sidney Greenstreet. They were about the same size.
“You blundering fathead,” he said again. He wished he’d thought to call Penny that this morning.
Charlie put Ben’s hat in his bureau drawer, next to Mary. If Ben didn’t want it, he, Charlie, did. He’d decided to collect hats. Some kids collected baseball cards, some old bottles or hubcaps. He’d much rather be a hat collector.
Downstairs, his father was playing solitaire and watching a ball game on TV. His mother was taking down the dining-room curtains, clucking about how filthy they were.
“How come you’re doing that on Sunday?” Charlie asked her.
“Because by Monday I won’t have the strength,” she said.
Ben came in from the B and T where he worked on Sundays until four. He went to his room without speaking.
“All right, where is it?” He came storming out.
“Where’s what?” Charlie asked, knowing.
“My hat. The hat in the wastebasket. I put it there and some wise guy took it. Whoever it was, he’s got exactly three seconds to give it back.” Ben’s face was tight with anger.
“You threw it away,” Charlie said. “You said you didn’t want it.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Suppose Mom had thrown it in the garbage and the garbage men came to collect it. What then?”
“She didn’t and they didn’t and let’s have it.”
Charlie grumbled all the way to his dresser. “Next time you throw something in the wastebasket and I take it out, it’s mine,” he said. “For keeps.”
“Dream on,” Ben said.
“I saw Penny this morning,” Charlie said. Suddenly he wanted to hurt Ben. “She was with this muscle-bound character in a Porsche. That is some car. Outasight!”
Ben didn’t answer. He started up the stairs.
“She’s going back to school today,” Charlie said.
Ben came back down part way.
“No she’s not,” he said. “She’s not going back until Tuesday. She has to finish her term paper.”
“She told me he was driving her back today. I guess she’s going to finish her paper back there.”
“I don’t believe you,” Ben said flatly.
“O.K., so don’t. Call up and find out for yourself. Why would I make up a story like that?”
“Get out of here, you little creep,” Ben yelled. “I’ve got work to do.”
He slammed around his room for a while. Charlie didn’t hear him go to the phone. He sat and looked at his spelling homework and wrote down their and there and they’re and decided maybe he’d learn Russian instead of English. It couldn’t be anywhere near as hard.
“Supper’s ready, boys.” They all sat down. Their father asked Ben how the concert had been.
“I’ve seen better,” he said shortly.
“I almost forgot,” Charlie said. “Ack Ack called and said to tell you he thinks he can find the dollar bill if he goes back on his bike to where it blew out of the car.”
“What dollar bill?” Charlie’s mother asked.
“I don’t know why no one can have any privacy around here,” Ben said. “May I be excused?”
“Let him go,” his mother said to his father.
“What’s eating him?” he wanted to know.
Ben thundered up the stairs.
“A disease called youth,” she said.
“It’s not eating me,” Charlie said, taking a second helping, “and I’m young.”
“It will,” she said. “Give it time.”
21
A week passed, a week during which Ben hardly spoke to anyone. He came home, checked the hall table where the day’s mail was placed, thrashed through the pile a couple of times, then went to his room, closed the door, and didn’t come out until suppertime.
Charlie’s father said, “If that kid’s manners don’t improve, there’s going to be trouble. I’m not running a hotel, and he better understand it.”
“I’m afraid he’s been rejected,” his mother said. “Rejection always comes hard.”
Charlie had quite a time looking up rejection in the dictionary because he spelled it with a g instead of a j. He finally got it right and found out that it meant “refuse to accept” or “discard” or “throw away.” So what’s that mean? he asked himself. Ben had been discarded?
Charlie thought about that for a while. Only yesterday he’d heard Ack Ack ask Ben if he’d heard from Penny yet.
“Not yet,” Ben had said in an offhand voice. “She must be pretty busy, getting back after vacation and all. Did your mother and father hear from her?”
“Well, she called collect when she got there. They always tell her to call collect, like she was going across the country in a covered wagon and they want to be sure the Indians didn’t get her. Chee.”
Then this morning Charlie was going through the trash to see if he could find the hunting knife he’d borrowed from Ollie which was missing now that Ollie wanted it back. He didn’t find the knife but he came upon wads of paper which, on inspection, proved to be unfinished letters, starting “Dear Penny, I have been thinking of you …” or “Dear Penny, Things are really hopping around here. Today …”
Charlie was no dope. No matter what kind of marks he got in school, he could put two and two together as well as the next guy.
So Captain Chubby had rejected Ben in favor of Mr. Muscles and his Flying Porsche. She was a bigger fink than even Charlie had thought. He felt like writing her a letter telling her that. As a matter of fact, if letters didn’t need an eight-cent stamp, he would’ve.
But she wasn’t worth eight cents. Not in Charlie’s book.
22
Charlie had just barely put his thumb out when the red Mustang pulled up and stopped. “You want a lift?” the girl said.
“Hey,” Charlie said, sinking into the upholstery, “it smells new.”
“It is,” she said. “I got it for my birthday.”
“Is your name Laurie?” Charlie asked. He had just put two and two together again.
“How did you know?” the girl said, smiling at him. She drove pretty slow and in the middle of the road. She also stopped at every intersection and practically got out of the car to see if there was anything coming. Charlie figured she hadn’t been driving too long.
“I’m Ben’s brother,” Charlie said.
She smiled even more.
“That’s a cool hat,” Charlie said. “Did you get it at Sammy’s?” Laurie’s hat was purple with yellow flowers and a big floppy brim. It looked like a Sammy special.
“What’s Sammy’s?” she asked.
“It’s this place Ben buys a lot of stuff at,” Charlie said and before he knew it he was telling Laurie about his Sherlock Holmes job and his muffler and the tail coat. Laurie was a very easy girl to talk to.
Charlie was pleased that Ack Ack and Ben were in front of the house when Laurie’s Mustang pulled up. He especially liked the way Ack Ack’s mouth dropped open.
“Where’d you find him?” Ben asked Laurie.
“He was hitching a ride and I picked him up,” she explained.
“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to pick up hitchhikers?” he asked.
Laurie shrugged. “I figured he was small enough so I could handle him,” she said. “And anyway, he looked like a good kid. Also,” she said offhandedly, “I know some karate and if he got out of line I could take care of him.”
“Where’d you learn karate?” Charlie wanted to know. He was impressed.
“From my father. He
has a brown belt,” she said.
“I like that hat,” Ben said. “Did you get that at Sammy’s?”
“No, I’ve never been there. Charlie asked me that too. He said he’d take me there some time.”
“She’s cool,” Charlie said after Laurie had left. “And you know what? She’s going to let me drive her Mustang.”
“When?” Ack Ack yelped. “You are a mere babe in swaddling clothes.”
“When I get my driver’s license. She said I could when I get my license.”
“I don’t think that’s such a hot idea,” Ack Ack said. “That’s a very powerful car. You might go through the garage wall, like Penny almost did.”
“He wouldn’t do a thing as stupid as that,” Ben said. “That’s something only a girl would pull.”
“Not a girl like Laurie,” Charlie said. “A girl like Captain Chubby, maybe, but not Laurie.”
Ben didn’t argue, he didn’t get sore.
“Listen, by the time you get your license, that Mustang will be long gone.”
“Long gone where?” Charlie asked.
“Long gone to the dump,” Ben answered.
“Maybe that’s when I’ll finally get my mitts on it,” Ack Ack said sorrowfully.
23
Ben lay on his bed with his Bogie hat tipped over his eye. He rolled a cigarette and sang the Beatles song “You’re Gonna Lose That Girl.”
He was practically back to normal.
“Laurie’s giving me and Arthur a ride to Sammy’s,” Charlie said. “You want to come?”
“Sweetheart, I think I just might,” Ben said. “What is this strange power you have over women?”
Charlie blushed. “She doesn’t know how to get there,” he said. “I told her I’d show her.”
Laurie honked the horn about five minutes later.
“Maybe it’d be easier if you drove,” she said to Ben. “I’m not too good at following directions in traffic.”
The Good-Luck Bogie Hat Page 7