He rested his elbows on the counter and looked at her in what he thought was a winning way. “Why’d you do that, Marja?” he asked reproachfully. “I never asked you for money, did I?”
She took another puff at the cigarette and didn’t answer.
His hand reached across the counter and took her free hand and squeezed it. “You know I’m always glad to see you, Marja.”
She looked down at her hand, but made no effort to withdraw it. She flashed her eyes up at him. “You’re glad to see any of the girls,” she said flatly. “You like all of them.”
“None of them like you, Marja,” he said earnestly. “I’d rather see you than anybody. You were always my favourite, even when you were a little baby.”
“I bet,” she said sceptically.
“I mean it,” he protested. “You’re the only one I give credit to. I wouldn’t let nobody else owe three dollars and twenty-five cents and not bother them.”
She slipped her hand from his slowly, watching his eyes as she moved. She smiled slightly as she saw a film come over them. “What about Francie Keegan? She said you let her owe yuh.”
He ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips. “I made her pay me, though, didn’t I?” he demanded. “I never asked you, though.”
She stepped back from the counter without speaking and looked around the store questioningly. “Something seems different here.”
He smiled proudly. “I had the back rooms painted.”
She raised a studied eyebrow. “Oh.”
“A nice light green,” he added. “I’m thinking of doing the store, too, if I can get the money together.”
“Don’ gimme that, Mr. Rannis,” she laughed. “You got plenty.”
A hurt expression came over his face. “All you kids say that. I don’t know why. You see the kind of business I do.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “I do see.” She turned suddenly and leaned over the candy counter against the glass.
The old man caught his breath. The full young lines of her body were revealed against the glass. Her strong young breasts pressed against the thin white blouse. “Want some candy?” he asked.
She looked at him over the counter top, her eyes speculative. “I haven’t any more money,” she said carefully.
“I didn’t ask for any, did I?” he asked, quickly bending down behind the counter and opening the door. He stared up at her through the glass. “What would you like?”
Her eyes were laughing as they met his. “Anything. A Milky Way.”
Without taking his eyes from her, he reached for a candy bar. His hands were trembling. The bright light from the street behind her framed her body through the flimsy skirt. He had long ago found this vantage point of observation. It was one of the main reasons he kept the store lights dim. The other was the high cost of electricity.
She looked down at him, wondering how long he would stay there. It was a standing joke among the girls in the neighbourhood. She knew what he was looking at. The Rannis display case worked both ways, but she didn’t care. He was a horny old goat and it served him right if you could get something out of him. Especially for nothing.
In a few seconds she became bored with her little game and moved back to the other counter. Almost immediately he got to his feet, the candy bar in his hand.
His face was flushed with the exertion of kneeling. He pushed the candy across the counter to her with one hand and grabbed hers with the other as she reached for it. She let her hand remain still as he spoke.
“You’re the prettiest girl in the neighbourhood, Marja,” he said.
She sniffed disdainfully.
“I mean it, Marja,” he said, squeezing her hand earnestly. He turned her hand over in his and opened it. “You got pretty hands too, for a kid.”
“I’m no kid,” she said quickly. “I’m goin’ on sixteen.”
“You are?” he asked in a surprised voice. Time went so quickly in this neighbourhood. They grew up in a hurry. Before you could turn around, they were married and gone.
“Sure,” she said confidently. “In the fall.”
“I bet the boys in school are all wild for you,” he said.
She purposely made a puzzled expression. “What do yuh mean, Mr. Rannis?” she asked innocently.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“No, I don’t, Mr. Rannis,” she insisted, a glimmer of laughter lurking in her eyes. “You tell me.”
He withdrew his hand with the candy bar, released hers, and walked down behind the counter to the back of the store. At the end of the counter, where the display concealed him from the front of the store, he called to her. “Come back here, Marja,’’ he said, “and I’ll tell you.”
Slowly she walked to the back of the store. There was a half-smile on her lips. She stepped partly behind the display stand and looked up into his face.
His face was flushed and there were beads of moisture on his upper lip. His mouth worked tensely, but no words came out.
Her smile grew broader. “What, Mr. Rannis?”
His hand reached toward her. She stood very still.
He brushed his fingertips against the front of her blouse lightly, watching her face for signs of fear.
There was none. She didn’t even make a move to get away from him. Instead she smiled. “Oh,” she answered. “Yes, Mr. Rannis. They’re wild about me.”
Her eyes were still frankly fixed on his. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It depends on how I feel. If I like it.” She turned slightly, moving away from him. “My candy, Mr. Rannis,” she said, holding out her hand.
Without thinking, he gave it to her. “You want to see the paint job in the back room?” he asked.
She didn’t answer, just looked at him as she unwrapped the bar and bit it slowly.
“If you come in the back,” he said anxiously. “Maybe if you’re real nice, I’ll forget about the three and a quarter you owe me.”
She swallowed a piece of the candy and looked at him reflectively. Then, without answering, she turned and started for the door.
“Marja!” he called after her in a pleading voice. “I’ll even give you some money!”
She paused at the marble-topped counter and picked up her cigarettes and a few matches, then continued on to the door. She started to open it.
“Marja!” the old man pleaded. “I’ll give you anything you want!”
She stood there a moment, her hand on the door before answering. When she did speak, he realised that she had been thinking over her reply.
“No, Mr. Rannis,” she said politely in her husky voice. “I ain’t ready for yuh.”
The door closed behind her and the store seemed dull and empty without the bright, flashing gold of her hair. Wearily, as if he had been in battle, he turned and went into the back room.
Chapter Two
THE EARLY JUNE sun had baked the city streets to a soft sponge-like asphalt surface that clung maliciously to the feet and made every step an effort. It bounced wildly off the flat concrete walls of the tenements and beat against the face like the licking flame of an open fire.
She hesitated a moment in the doorway of the store before stepping into the inferno of the street. Slowly she ate the last of the candy bar while her eyes scanned the street, for signs of life.
It was almost deserted except for a few children who were playing down near the corner of Second Avenue. One lone woman came out of Hochmeyer’s Pork store carrying a shopping-bag and made her way up the block. A taxi roared down the street, leaving bluish tracks in the pavement.
The candy was finished, and carefully she wiped her fingers on the wrapper and threw the paper into the gutter. She slipped the cigarettes into a small purse and stepped down onto the sidewalk. The heat and the sun hit her face and she blinked her eyes rapidly. She could feel the perspiration spring out like a flood all over her body. For a moment she regretted not having stayed in the candy store and played the old man along for a little while. At leas
t it was almost cool in there.
She headed up the street toward her house reluctantly. The clock in one of the store windows told her it was near three. She hesitated. If it weren’t so warm she wouldn’t be going home, but only a fool would stay out on the street on a day like this. She wished she had the money to go to the show. The RKO 86th Street Theatre had a cooling-system. Fans blowing over big cakes of ice. For a dime you could stay in there all day and beat the heat.
“Marja!” A girl’s voice behind her called.
She turned and looked back. It was her friend Francie Keegan. She waited for the girl to come up to her. “Hi, Francie.”
Francie was out of breath from hurrying up the block. She was a big girl, heavy-set, with full, ripe breasts and hips. She was a year older than Marja and had thick black hair and dark-blue eyes. “Where yuh goin’, Marj?” she asked, still breathing harshly.
“Home,” Marja answered succinctly. “It’s too damn hot to stay out.”
A look of disappointment crossed Francie’s face. “I thought we might go to a show.”
“Got money?” Marja asked.
“No.”
“Neither have I,” Marja said and turned back up the block.
Her friend fell into step with her. “Hell!’ she exclaimed. “Everybody in the whole world is broke!”
A half-smile crossed Marja’s face. She looked at her friend out of the corners of her eyes. “Now she tells me.”
They walked another few steps silently; then Francie put her hand on Marja’s arm. “I got an idea.”
Marja looked at her.
“Old Man Rannis.” Francie explained. “Maybe we can promote some change outta him.”
Marja shook her head. “Uh-uh. I just been there.”
“An’?” Francie asked curiously.
“Nothin’,” Marja said. “I got a candy bar after lettin’ him use his X-ray on me.”
“So?”
“That’s all,” Marja continued. “Then he wanted me to go in the back with him an’ see the new paint job, but no money. I owe him three and a quarter already. All he wanted was to go in the back.”
Francie thought over her friend’s statement. At last she spoke. “A key’s on the candy bar.”
Marja smiled. “Too late.” She rubbed her stomach meaningly. “I already ate it.”
“Damn!” Francie swore. “I got no luck today at all.” She began to walk again. “I guess we might as well go home.” She wiped her face on the short cotton sleeve of her dress. “Damn! It’s hot.”
Marja didn’t speak. They walked silently. They were almost halfway up the block before they exchanged another word.
“Who’s home?” Francie asked.
“Everybody, I guess,” Marja answered. “My mother doesn’t go to work until five o’clock.” Her mother was a cleaning woman in an office downtown and worked until two in the morning.
“Your stepfather, too?”
A cold look came into Marja’s eyes, making them almost black. “Especially him,” she said contemptuously. “He wouldn’t leave his three cans of beer for all the money in the world.”
“Doesn’t he work at all? Ever?” Francie asked.
Marja laughed. “Why should he? He never had it so good. Three squares an’ all the beer he can drink. He’s no dope. Jus’ sits aroun’ all day an’ burps.”
A strange look came into Francie’s eyes. “He stopped me in the hall the other day.”
Marja turned to her. “What’d he want?”
“He asked some questions about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like about what you did outside. With boys. That kind uh thing.”
“Oh,” Marja thought for a moment. “He’s always asking me, too. What’d you tell him?”
“Nothin’,” Francie answered. “I’m no dope.”
A mild sigh of relief escaped Marja’s lips. “He’d just love to get somethin’ on me. He hates me.”
“I know,” Francie said. “Sometimes I can hear him hollerin’ upstairs.” Francie lived in the apartment over Marja.
They were almost at the house now. The tenements were all alike on this block. The same faceless brown stone that once had known better days, black and dirty windows staring blindly into the street.
They stopped at the stoop. There was an uncovered garbage can near the entrance. While they stood there, a grey alley cat jumped up onto it, chasing the swarm of flies, and began to rummage through it. They watched him silently.
Marja wrinkled up her nose. “You’d think the super would have the brains to cover the can in this weather.” She sniffed the air. “It stinks.”
Francie didn’t speak. They started up the steps. A wolf whistle came from across the street. They both turned around.
Three boys had just come from the pool parlour opposite their house and were looking at them. One of them called out: “Hey, Francie, who’s yer blonde friend?”
The girls exchanged looks quickly and a tight smile came to their lips. “Why’n’t yuh come over an’ find out?” Francie called back.
The three boys whispered something to each other in the doorway while Marja tried to recognise them. The one who had called to Francie she had seen several times before. He lived down the block. She couldn’t remember his name. The other two she had never seen.
The two strangers were both tall. One was fair-haired—brown, almost blond—with an open face and gentle blue eyes; the other, almost the opposite. Dark, good-looking, with handsome Grecian features and a full, sensual mouth. After a moment the blond one walked away from the others with a wave of his hand and the remaining boys sauntered slowly across the street.
“Hullo, Jimmy,” Francie said as they drew near.
Jimmy was a thin boy, his eyes slightly protruding, his face covered with the remains of a vanishing acne. He smiled, showing white buck teeth. “Where yuh been keepin’ yourself, Francie?” he asked.
“Aroun’,” she answered. “You?”
He looked down at the sidewalk a moment before he answered. “Around.” He looked at his friend quickly. “What’re yuh doin’?”
“Nothin’,” Francie answered. “We were jus’ goin’ up to get outta this heat.”
“Ross an’ me were jus’ goin’ for a swim,” Jimmy said quickly. “Wanna come?”
Francie looked at Marja, who had been silent up to now. There was a glimmer of interest in Marja’s eyes. “If we go upstairs to get our bathing-suits,” she explained, “we couldn’t come back.”
The other boy laughed. His laugh was surprisingly deep. “We can get suits where we’re going,” he said.
“Ross’s got a car,” Jimmy said. “We were goin’ out tuh Coney Island.”
Marja spoke for the first time. “Then what’re we standin’ here talkin’ for?”
The other boy reached for Marja’s arm. His grip was firm and sure, and she came down off the stoop toward him. The laughter was still deep in his throat. “That’s it, baby,” he said, his eyes challenging her. “I like a girl what knows her mind.”
She fell into step beside him and looked up at him, her own eyes meeting his challenge. “It ain’t my mind I know,” she laughed. “It’s my body. And it’s hot.”
“Can’t be too hot for me,” he said.
The others fell into step behind them. She looked over her shoulder at Francie. Jimmy was whispering something to her and Francie was smiling and nodding. She looked up at the boy next to her. Where yuh parked?”
“Just around the corner,” he said. “My name’s Ross Drego, what’s yours?”
“Marja,” she answered.
“Your whole name, I mean,” he insisted.
She looked into his eyes. “Marja Anna Flood.”
“Flood’s an English name,” he said in a puzzled voice.
“I’m Polish,” she said quickly. “It was changed from Fluudjincki.”
“I can see why.” His smile took the edge off his phrase.
They were around the
corner now, and he steered her to a Buick roadster with the top down. He opened the door with a flourish. “Your chariot, girls.”
Marja stopped and looked at the car, then at him.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Get in.”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. This looks like the wrong kind uh hot to me.”
A puzzled expression came into Ross’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I ain’t goin’ for no joy ride in a stolen car,” she said. “I can get into enough trouble on my own.”
Ross began to laugh. “The car isn’t stolen,” he said. “It’s mine.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “Oh, yeah? Where do you come to a job like this? That’s probably why your friend didn’t want to go with yuh.”
Ross grinned. “You mean Mike Keyes? He had to go back to work. He helps his old man around the house. He’s the super.”
She was still sceptical. “I don’t buy it,” she insisted stubbornly.
Jimmy’s voice came over his shoulder. “Go ahead, get in. It’s his car all right. His old man gave it to him.”
She stepped back from the car. “Prove it first,” she said.
The laughter had left Ross’s eyes. “You don’t believe me?” His voice was flat and cold.
“I believe yuh,” she said, looking right at him. “But I ain’t takin’ any chances. I know a girl on the block who also believed a guy and she’s up in Bedford now.”
A flush of anger surged into his dark face. “Then blow,” he said tensely. “I can get a thousand cheap chips like you to come with me.”
She turned and began to walk back up the street. She was almost to the corner when his voice stopped her. She waited for him to catch up to her.
“Wait a minute, Marja,” he said, his hand fishing in his pocket. “It’s my car. I’ll show you.”
He took out a wallet and handed it to her. She looked down at it. There was more green folding money in there than she had ever seen in her life. She looked at him questioningly.
“Open the flap,” he said.
She opened the wallet. On one side was a driver’s licence, on the other was an owner’s registration. Both were made out to Ross Drego, 987 Park Avenue, N.Y.C. She glanced at his age quickly. He was eighteen. Silently she closed it and gave it back to him.
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