Shoot the Piano Player (12 page)

10

A voice said, "You still here?"

He looked up. The waitress was coming toward him through the crowd of shoppers. She'd emerged from the five-and-dime with a paper bag in her hand. He saw that it was a small bag. He told himself that she hadn't done much shopping.

"How long were you in there?" he asked.

"Just a few minutes:'

"Is that all?"

"I got waited on right away," she asked. "All I bought was some toothpaste and a cake of soap. And a toothbrush."

He didn't say anything.

She said, "I didn't ask you to wait for me."

"I wasn't waiting," he said. "I had no place to go, that's all. I was just hanging around."

"Looking at the people?"

"No," he said. "1 wasn't looking at the people:'

She pulled him away from an oncoming baby carriage. "Come on," she said. "We're blocking traffic."

They moved along with the crowd. The sky was all gray now and getting darker. It was stifi early in the afternoon, just a little past two, but it seemed much later. People were looking up at the sky and walking faster, wanting to get home before the storm swept in. The threat of it was in the air.

She looked at him. She said, "Button your overcoat."

"I'm not cold."

"I'm freezing," she said. "How far we gotta walk?"

"To Port Richmond? It's a couple miles."

"That's great."

"We could take a taxi, except I haven't got a cent to my name."

"Likewise," she said. "I borrowed four bits from my landlady and spent it all."

"Well, it ain't too cold for walldng'

"The hell it ain't. My toes are coming off."

"We'll walk faster," he said. "That'll keep your feet warm."

They quickened their pace. They were walking with their heads down against the oncoming wind. It was coming harder, whistling louder. It lifted the snow from pavement and street and there were powdery flurries of the tiny flakes. Then larger snowflakes were falling. The air was thick with snow, and it was getting colder.

"Nice day for a picnic," she said. And just then she slipped on some hard-packed snow and was falling backward and he grabbed her. Then he slipped and they were both falling but she managed to get a foothold and they stayed on their feet. A store owner was standing in the doorway of his dry-goods establishment, saying to them, "Watch your step out there. It's slippery." She glared at the man and said, "Yeah, we know it's slippery. It wouldn't be slippery if you'd clean the pavement." The store owner grinned and said, "So if you fall, you'll sue me."

The man went back into the store. They stood there on the slippery pavement, still holding onto each other to keep from falling. He said to himself, That's all it amounts to, just holding her so she won't slide and slip and go down. But I guess it's all right now, I guess you can let go.

You better let go, damn it. Because it's there again, it's happening again. You'll hafta stop it, that's all. You can't let it get you like this. It's really getting you and she knows it. Of course she knows. She's looking at you and she--

Say, what's the matter with your arms? Why can't you let go of her? Now look, you'll just hafta stop it.

I think the way to stop it is shrug it off. Or take it with your tongue in your cheek. Sure, that's the system. At any rate it's the system that works for you. It's the automatic control board that keeps you way out there where nothing matters, where it's only you and the keyboard and nothing else. Because it's gotta be that way. You gotta stay clear of anything serious.

You wanna know something? The system just ain't working now. I think it's Eddie giving way to Edward Webster Lynn. No, it can't be that way. We won't let it be that way. Oh, Christ, why'd she have to mention that name? Why'd she have to bring it all back? You had it buried and you were getting along fine and having such a high old time not caring about anything. And now this comes along. This hits you and sets a spark and before we know it there's a fire started. A what? You heard me, I said it's a fire. And here's a flash just came in--it's blazing too high and we can't put it out.

We can't? Check the facts, man, check the facts. This is Eddie here. And Eddie can't feel fire. Eddie can't feel anything.

His arms fell away from her. There was nothing at all in his eyes as he gave her the soft-easy smile. He said, "Let's get moving. We got a long way to go."

She looked at him, and took a slow deep breath, and said, "You're telling me?"

Some forty minutes later they entered Harriet's Hut. The place was jammed. It was always busy on Saturday afternoons, but when the weather was bad the crowd was doubled. Against all snow and blasting wind, the Hut was a fortress and a hdven. It was also a fueling station. The bartender rushed back and forth, doing his level best to supply the demand for antifreeze.

Harriet was behind the bar, at the cash register. She spotted the waitress and the piano man, and yapped at them, "Where ya been? What the hell ya think it is, a holiday?"

"Sure it's a holiday," the waitress said. "We don't start work till nine tonight. That's the schedule."

"Not today it ain't," Harriet told her. "Not with a mob like this. You shoulda known I'd need you here. And you," she said to Eddie, "you oughta know the score on this kinda weather. They come in off the street, the place gets filled, and they wanna hear music."

Eddie shrugged. "I got up late."

"Yeah, he got up late," Lena said. She spoke very slowly with a certain deliberation. "Then we went for a ride. And then we took a walk."

Harriet frowned. "Together?"

"Yeah," she said. "Together."

The Hut owner looked at the piano man. "What's the wire on that?"

He didn't answer. The waitress said, "Whatcha want him to do, make a full report?"

"If he wants to," Harriet said, still looking quizzically at the piano man. "It's just that I'm curious, that's all. He usually walks alone."

"Yeah, he's a loner, all right," the waitress murmured. "Even when he's with someone, he's alone."

Harriet scratched the back of her neck. "Say, what goes on here? What's all this who-struck-John routine?"

"You get the answer on page three," the waitress said. "Except there ain't no page three."

"Thanks," Harriet said. "That helps a lot." Then, abruptly she yelled, "Look, don't stand there giving me puzzles. I don't need puzzles today. Just put on your apron and get to work."

"First we get paid."

"We?" Harriet was frowning again.

"Well, me, anyway," the waitress said. "I want a week's wages and three in advance for this extra time today."

"What's the rush?"

"No rush." Lena pointed to the cash register. "Just take it out nice and slow and hand it to me."

"Later," the fat blonde said. "I'm too busy now."

"Not too busy to gimme my salary. And while you're at it, you can pay him, too. You want him to make music, you pay him."

Eddie shrugged. "I can wait--"

"You'll stay right here and get your money," Lena cut in. And then, to Harriet, "Come on, dish out the greens."

For a long moment Harriet didn't move. She stood there studying the face of the waitress. Then, with a backward gesture of her hand, as though to cast something over her shoulder to get it out of the way, she turned her attention to the cash register.

It's all right now, Eddie thought. It was tight there for a minute but I think it's all right now. He ventured a side glance at the expressionless face of the waitress. If only she leaves it alone, he said to himself. It don't make sense to start with Harriet. With Harriet it's like starting with dynamite. Or maybe that's what she wants. Yes, I think she's all coiled up inside, she's craving some kind of explosion.

Harriet was taking money from the cash register, counting out the bills and jutting them in Lena's palm. She finished paying Lena and turned to the piano man, putting the money on the bar in front of him. As she placed some ones on top of the fives, she was muttering, "Ain't enough I get grief from the customers. Now the help comes up with labor troubles. All of a sudden they go and form a union."

"That's the trend," the waitress said.

"Yeah?" Harriet said. "Well, I don't like it."

"Then lump it," Lena said.

The fat blonde stopped counting out the money. She blinked a few times. Then she straightened slowly, her immense bosom jutting as she inhaled a vast lungful. "What's that?" she said.

"What'd you say?"

"You heard me."

Harriet placed her hands on her huge hips. "Maybe I didn't hear correct. Because they don't talk to me that way. They know better. I'll tell you something, girl. Ain't a living cat can throw that kinda lip at me and get away with it."

"That so?" Lena murmured.

"Yeah, that's so," Harriet said. "And you're lucky. I'm letting you know it the easy way. Next time it won't be so easy. You sound on me again, you'll get smacked down."

"Is that a warning?"

"Bright red."

"Thanks," Lena said. "Now here's one from me to you. I've been smacked down before. Somehow I've always managed to get up."

"Jesus." Harriet spoke aloud to herself. "What gives with this one here? It's like she's lookin' for it. She's really begging for it."

The waitress stood with her arms loose at her sides. She was smiling now.

Harriet had a thoughtful look on her face. She spoke softly to the waitress. "What's the matter, Lena? What bothers you?"

The waitress didn't answer.

"All right, I'll let it pass," the Hut owner said.

Lena held onto the thin smile. "You don't have to, really."

"I know I don't hafta. But it's better that way. Dontcha think it's better that way?"

The thin smile was aimed at nothing in particular. The waitress said, "Any way it goes all right with me. But don't do me any favors. I don't need no goddam favors from you:'

Harriet frowned and slanted her head and said, "You sure you know what you're saying?"

Lena didn't answer.

"Know what I think?" Harriet murmured. "I think you got your people mixed'

Lena lost the smile. She lowered her head. She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again.

"Ain't that what it is?" Harriet prodded gently.

Lena went on nodding. She looked up at the fat blonde. She said, "Yeah, I guess so' And then, tonelessly, "I'm sorry, Harriet. It's just that I'm bugged about something--I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"What is it?" Harriet asked. The waitress didn't answer. Harriet looked inquiringly at Eddie. The piano man shrugged and didn't say anything. "Come on, let's have it," Harriet demanded. "What is it with her?" He shrugged again and remained quiet. The fat blonde sighed and said, "All right, I give up," and resumed counting out the money. Then the money was all there on the bar and he picked it up and folded the thin roll and let it fall into his overcoat pocket. He turned away from the bar and took a few steps and heard Lena saying, "Wait, I got something for you."

He came back and she handed him two quarters, two dimes and a nickel. "From last night," she said, not looking at him. "Now we're squared."

He looked down at the coins in his hand. Squared, he thought. All squared away. That makes it quits. That ends it. Well, sure, that's the way you want it. That's fine.

But just then he saw she was stiffening, she was staring at something. He glanced in that direction and saw Wally Plyne coming toward the bar where they stood.

The big-paunched bouncer wore a twisted grin as he approached. His thick shoulders were hunched, weaving in wrestler's style. The grin widened, and Eddie thought, He's forcing it, and what we get next is one of them real friendly hellos, all sugar and syrup.

And then he felt Plyne's big hand on his arm, heard Plyne's gruff voice saying, "Here he is, the crown prince of the eighty-eights. My boy, Eddie."

"Yeah," the waitress said. "Your boy, Eddie."

Plyne didn't seem to hear her. He said to the piano man, "I was lookin' for you. Where you been hiding?"

"He wasn't hiding," the waitress said.

The bouncer tried to ignore her. He went on grinning at Eddie.

The waitress pushed it further. "How could he hide? He didn't have a chance. They knew his address."

Plyne blinked hard. The grin fell away.

It was quiet for some moments. Then Harriet was saying, "Lemme get in on this." She leaned over from behind the bar. "What's cooking here?"