“Well, let’s go to it,” Fonzo said. They moved toward the exit. A man shouted “taxi” at them; a redcap tried to take Fonzo’s bag. “Look out,” he said, drawing it back. On the street more cabmen barked at them.
“So this is Memphis,” Fonzo said. “Which way is it, now?” He had no answer. He looked around and saw Virgil in the act of turning away from a cabman. “What you—”
“Up this way,” Virgil said. “It aint far.”
It was a mile and a half. From time to time they swapped hands with the bags. “So this is Memphis,” Fonzo said. “Where have I been all my life?” When they entered the Gayoso a porter offered to take the bags. They brushed past him and entered, walking gingerly on the tile floor. Virgil stopped.
“Come on,” Fonzo said.
“Wait,” Virgil said.
“Thought you was here before,” Fonzo said.
“I was. This hyer place is too high. They’ll want a dollar a day here.”
“What we going to do, then?”
“Let’s kind of look around.”
They returned to the street. It was five oclock. They went on, looking about, carrying the suit cases. They came to another hotel. Looking in they saw marble, brass cuspidors, hurrying bellboys, people sitting among potted plants.
“That un’ll be just as bad,” Virgil said.
“What we going to do then? We caint walk around all night.”
“Let’s git off this hyer street,” Virgil said. They left Main Street. At the next corner Virgil turned again. “Let’s look down this-a-way. Git away from all that ere plate glass and monkey niggers. That’s what you have to pay for in them places.”
“Why? It’s already bought when we got there. How come we have to pay for it?”
“Suppose somebody broke it while we was there. Suppose they couldn’t ketch who done it. Do you reckon they’d let us out withouten we paid our share?”
At five-thirty they entered a narrow dingy street of frame houses and junk yards. Presently they came to a three storey house in a small grassless yard. Before the entrance a latticework false entry leaned. On the steps sat a big woman in a mother hubbard, watching two fluffy white dogs which moved about the yard.
“Let’s try that un,” Fonzo said.
“That aint no hotel. Where’s ere sign?”
“Why aint it?” Fonzo said. “ ’Course it is. Who ever heard of anybody just living in a three storey house?”
“We cant go in this-a-way,” Virgil said. “This hyer’s the back. Dont you see that privy?” jerking his head toward the lattice.
“Well, let’s go around to the front, then,” Fonzo said. “Come on.”
They went around the block. The opposite side was filled by a row of automobile sales-rooms. They stood in the middle of the block, their suit cases in their right hands.
“I dont believe you ever was here before, noways,” Fonzo said.
“Let’s go back. That must a been the front.”
“With the privy built onto the front door?” Fonzo said.
“We can ask that lady.”
“Who can? I aint.”
“Let’s go back and see, anyway.”
They returned. The woman and the dogs were gone.
“Now you done it,” Fonzo said. “Aint you?”
“Let’s wait a while. Maybe she’ll come back.”
“It’s almost seven oclock,” Fonzo said.
They set the bags down beside the fence. The lights had come on, quivering high in the serried windows against the tall serene western sky.
“I can smell ham, too,” Fonzo said.
A cab drew up. A plump blonde woman got out, followed by a man. They watched them go up the walk and enter the lattice. Fonzo sucked his breath across his teeth. “Durned if they didn’t,” he whispered.
“Maybe it’s her husband,” Virgil said.
Fonzo picked up his bag. “Come on.”
“Wait,” Virgil said. “Give them a little time.”
They waited. The man came out and got in the cab and went away.
“Caint be her husband,” Fonzo said. “I wouldn’t a never left. Come on.” He entered the gate.
“Wait,” Virgil said.
“You can,” Fonzo said. Virgil took his bag and followed. He stopped while Fonzo opened the lattice gingerly and peered in. “Aw, hell,” he said. He entered. There was another door, with curtained glass. Fonzo knocked.
“Why didn’t you push that ere button?” Virgil said. “Dont you know city folks dont answer no knock?”
“All right,” Fonzo said. He rang the bell. The door opened. It was the woman in the mother hubbard; they could hear the dogs behind her.
“Got ere extra room?” Fonzo said.
Miss Reba looked at them, at their new hats and the suit cases.
“Who sent you here?” she said.
“Didn’t nobody. We just picked it out.” Miss Reba looked at him. “Them hotels is too high.”
Miss Reba breathed harshly. “What you boys doing?”
“We come hyer on business,” Fonzo said. “We aim to stay a good spell.”
“If it aint too high,” Virgil said.
Miss Reba looked at him. “Where you from, honey?”
They told her, and their names. “We aim to be hyer a month or more, if it suits us.”
“Why, I reckon so,” she said after a while. She looked at them. “I can let you have a room, but I’ll have to charge you extra whenever you do business in it. I got my living to make like everybody else.”
“We aint,” Fonzo said. “We’ll do our business at the college.”
“What college?” Miss Reba said.
“The barber’s college,” Fonzo said.
“Look here,” Miss Reba said, “you little whippersnapper.” Then she began to laugh, her hand at her breast. They watched her soberly while she laughed in harsh gasps. “Lord, Lord,” she said. “Come in here.”
The room was at the top of the house, at the back. Miss Reba showed them the bath. When she put her hand on the door a woman’s voice said: “Just a minute, dearie” and the door opened and she passed them, in a kimono. They watched her go up the hall, rocked a little to their young foundations by a trail of scent which she left. Fonzo nudged Virgil surreptitiously. In their room again he said:
“That was another one. She’s got two daughters. Hold me, big boy; I’m heading for the hen-house.”
They didn’t go to sleep for some time that first night, what with the strange bed and room and the voices. They could hear the city, evocative and strange, imminent and remote; threat and promise both—a deep, steady sound upon which invisible lights glittered and wavered: colored coiling shapes of splendor in which already women were beginning to move in suave attitudes of new delights and strange nostalgic promises. Fonzo thought of himself surrounded by tier upon tier of drawn shades, rose-colored, beyond which, in a murmur of silk, in panting whispers, the apotheosis of his youth assumed a thousand avatars. Maybe it’ll begin tomorrow, he thought; maybe by tomorrow night.……A crack of light came over the top of the shade and sprawled in a spreading fan upon the ceiling. Beneath the window he could hear a voice, a woman’s, then a man’s: they blended, murmured; a door closed. Someone came up the stairs in swishing garments, on the swift hard heels of a woman.
He began to hear sounds in the house: voices, laughter; a mechanical piano began to play. “Hear them?” he whispered.
“She’s got a big family, I reckon,” Virgil said, his voice already dull with sleep.
“Family, hell,” Fonzo said. “It’s a party. Wish I was to it.”
On the third day as they were leaving the house in the morning, Miss Reba met them at the door. She wanted to use their room in the afternoons while they were absent. There was to be a detective’s convention in town and business would look up some, she said. “Your things’ll be all right. I’ll have Minnie lock everything up before hand. Aint nobody going to steal nothing from you in my house.”
“What business you reckon she’s in?” Fonzo said when they reached the street.