That wouldn’t be bad! He hadn’t ever really thought about it that way, but it sure wouldn’t be bad—at all. Of course, he wouldn’t be with Tiger until after four years of college had passed—and a heck of a lot could happen in four years, of course—but in theory, and as a long-range plan, it was O.K. Not bad! He wondered how the team would make out in those four years. They did alright before he ever came on the scene, so why shouldn’t they when he went away? Ponce grinned, musing, Who do I think I am? Tiger, he thought, must have given him a big head. . . .
Now Ponce was just a few yards from his house; prowling around along the side of the house he saw Peppy, that crazy cat. Ponce smiled as Peppy looked up suddenly and saw him, and loped in her funny way toward him. Ponce loved that cat. He called her name, and she came the rest of the way, comically slinking along, and turning sideways to him. Ponce picked her up, stroked her, and went around the house toward the back door, talking softly all the while to her.
He thought of Miss Smith.
Wouldn't it be great if she still happened to be around —five years from now!
But Ponce grew sad, thinking, fat chance of that. She’d be married with a houseful of kids—at least. . . .
He reached the back door, he saw his mother in the kitchen, she smiled at him, he smiled at her, and with Peppy dangling from his forearm, purring away, he opened the door. . . .
49
Chief Poldaski was in the comer poolroom, just across the way actually from his usual post in front of the Memorial there at Twelfth Street and Whitmaker Avenue. He was having a hamburger and a cup of coffee for himself at the moment in fact. During the day, when things were normal, he usually dropped in a few times for such a repast. And often in the evenings too. Of course these past few days, during the day, he hadn’t had the chance. And so he was especially glad to be there tonight. He had missed the place. He liked it there quite a ‘lot, for the boys were always talking about this and that, and he learned a lot. Besides, he liked their company, they were a great bunch of guys. He liked shooting a few games too. He wasn’t bad. Not an expert of course like some of them, who spent half the day in there, practicing away. But he could hold his own. Right now he was chomping away happily on his hamburger and gabbing with Sam Roto, the proprietor of the establishment in fact. Sam was a tall, skinny man, with black wavy hair, who always looked gloomy. He had a genuine Sicilian face. But, he was a friendly guy, despite how he looked. In the background, the crashing of pool balls and sticks and the steady talk of the players, sometimes boisterous, could be heard. The place was full tonight.
“So they got him,” Sam said, in his monotone, and with something like a grin.
“Yep,” Poldaski nodded.
“I knew damn well it was one of them jigs.”
“Yep,” Poldaski said, taking another big bite.
“What the hell they gonna do with the rest? Leave them there? That’d be great.” Sam said.
“Lots of jig-lovers around, Sam. You’d be surprised,” Poldaski said.
“Not in here.”
They had a little laugh.
“I put them on to his tail,” Poldaski said, confiding in Sam.
“That right?” Sam said, not believing it, though.
“I told them right away, hell, I knew it was one of them.”
“Him?” Said Sam, in his way.
“Well, he was one of them.”
“What’s Tiger gonna do?”
“Yeh, I know.”
“Hell, too bad it had to be him**
“Aw—I guess he’ll think of somethin’ though. You know Tiger. Always does.”
“Hope so.”
“Yeh.”
“How’s the wife?”
“O.K.”
“Mine’s got a cold. Jesus, what a pain she is with a cold.” “Bad cold?”
“Ehh—just a cold.”
“Huh.”
The Chief took a big sip of his coffee now. The hamburger was gone.
“Shot of whiskey—sent her to bed,” He then said.
“Yeh—try tellin’ her that—” Sam said.
“I kick mine in the ass—” John now said, as Sam laughed. “Yeh—Jesus—only way—they need it sometimes —man.”
“I know,” Sam said, though he knew who kicked who at John’s place.
“What’ll he get?” Sam asked, “The chair?”
“Sure, What else?”
“Ehh—who can tell?”
“Aw, don't worry. This one won’t get off. Not him.” “Well—”
“Don’t worry—for sure the chair.”
“Boy, you know.”
“Imagine that though, imagine, puttin’ them in there— Christ—what's wrong with those guys? They’ll be movin* in soon—that’s next—Wait and see!” Sam said, on a favorite track.
“The hell they will.”
“Oh no?”
“That’ll be the day they will.”
“Wait and see.”
“Aw, don’t worry about that. Hey—another one, O.K.?” “Pretty hungry tonight—”
“Yeh, I am—”
Sam opened the fridge door and pulled out another hamburger. He had the best in town. The biggest too. He dropped it on the grill. The Chief watched it cooking,
thinking a lot of things. One thing, how much he loved
them. He could eat half a dozen—no matter what kind of supper Mary had made. However, he usually stopped at two—or three. . . . Another thing he was sure glad they had caught the prick. That put an end to the traffic problem, for one thing. And what a thing. Now things would get back to normal, he could reoccupy his usual post, and hit Sam’s place three, four times a day. And no more crap from those friggin’ Staties. He hated them. Real king pricks. That’d be the day he called them in again. For
anything. King Shits. . . .
A few of the boys came up to grab some burgers too. They made a lot of small talk and invited John to join them in a couple games. He said he would. He polished off the burger first.
“What the hell’s new?” Poldaski asked them, subtly. He was rubbing up the tip of his cue.
“Christ! Ain’t you had enough news?” Ben Ryan said, with a laugh.
They all laughed. The Chief did too. He took the first shot and scattered the balls. A couple went in. He lined up for a second try as Ben marked up the two.
“How’s the huntin’ gonna be?” Poldaski asked, taking aim.
“Aw—I dunno. You all set?”
“What you gonna use this year?” Joe Bedenk asked,
Pretty Maids All in a Row 275 watching Poldaski’s shot clip one more in and then sink itself too.
“Scratch.” Ben said, moving in with his cue.
“Goddamn,” Poldaski said, “That’s nig’s ruined my aim—”
They laughed. They all had a good laugh.
“Hey—tell how you caught him, John—” Joe said.