“It sounded like a roll,” Reen said.
“You can use it in a roll,” Frank said.
“I prefer ham on roll,” Bud said.
“Yok,” Frank said.
Reen fished another card from the pack. He studied it and then discarded it. “Tell me, Charles,” he said, “what did you think of last night?”
“You want to hear a double paradiddle?” Frank asked.
“I asked Charles a question, Francis,” Reen said.
“Last night was a beaut,” Bud said emphatically.
“It’s different from a single para diddle,” Frank said.
“A beaut, indeed,” Reen said.
“I think we can thank our friend Francis Joseph for that.”
“Thank you, Francis Joseph.”
“What the hell did I do?” Frank asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing at all,” Reen said. “You only fouled up the works.”
“Well next time you can drive,” Frank said righteously.
“I don’t know how to drive,” Reen said.
“Then don’t look a gift hearse in the mouth.”
“Francis is in fine fettle,” Reen said. “Did you catch that last pun, Charles?”
“Oh, I caught it,” Bud said. “It resembled a hearse last night, too.”
“No,” Reen said. “Only the driver was dead.”
“The girl with the driver was dead, too,” Frank said angrily.
“Play your paradiddles, boy,” Reen said.
“You’d have done the same thing if you were driving,” Frank continued.
“I doubt it.”
“What was I supposed to do, make conversation all night? And I thought you were supposed to chip in for gas? What happened to that idea?”
“Your play,” Bud said.
“That’s right, change the subject.”
“How much did you put in?” Reen asked. “A lousy two gallons?” He drew and discarded. “Are you sure you’re not holding the queens?”
“I put in five gallons,” Frank said. “And it was black market, so it cost more.”
“You shouldn’t buy black-market gas, Francis.”
“No? Why not?”
“It’s unpatriotic.”
“Bull. You heard what Four Eyes said when he was in on leave.”
“What did Four Eyes say?”
“He said they use five-gallon drums of gas to start fires with when they’re on maneuvers. If they can’t use ordinary matches, then I’ll get all the gas I want without coupons.”
“Would you deprive our boys of a little heat?”
“No, but why should they deprive me of a little gas?”
“He’s changing the subject, René,” Bud said. “Gin.”
“Gin?” Reen watched Bud as he laid down his hand. “You were saving queens, you bastard.”
“Your deal,” Bud said. “That’s another dime you owe me.” He marked the debt on a sheet of paper. Reen gathered up the cards and began shuffling.
“Who tacked the horsehoe on your behind?” he wanted to know.
“I was born with it,” Bud said.
“It’s chilly in here,” Reen said. “Francis, how about shoveling a little coal on the fire?”
“You crippled or something?”
“I’m not up on the latest furnace designs,” Reen said.
“Get up on this a while,” Frank answered.
“He’s got a filthy mind, you know, Charles?”
“The filthiest,” Bud said.
“You’d think he’d be a little penitent after last night.” Reen shook his head forlornly. “Some people just have no conscience at all.”
“You got in your licks,” Frank said. “What the hell are you kicking about?”
“Oh, it was a big night, all right,” Reen said grandly. “I was home and asleep by twelve-thirty.”
“We don’t get to town offen,” Bud said, “but when we do, row-dee-dow!”
“Next time you can do without the car,” Frank said. “I don’t have to be a chauffeur. You guys think—”
“Did you know Tony was sore last night, Francis?”
“Anthony, you mean,” Bud corrected.
“Anthony, of course. Did you know that?”
“What’s that got to do with the price of fish? He wasn’t sore at me.”
“He was sore at all of us for taking off without him. But you hit him for a buck before we left, didn’t you?”
“So what?”
“That’s adding insult to injury,” Reen said.
“Do you get anything extra tor gin without picking up a card?” Bud asked.
“You’re kidding,” Reen said, appalled.
“I’m kidding,” Bud confirmed.
“Next time just leave me out of it,” Frank said. “Just pick up whoever you like, and do whatever you like, and forget all about me. And the car.”
“He’s holding the car over our heads, Charles.”
“So long as he doesn’t drop it,” Bud said.
“Why don’t you admit you were a bastard, Francis?”
“I was no more bastardish than usual,” Frank said, and then — realizing what he’d admitted — he began laughing. The laughter cleared the air, and Frank was thankful he’d been let off the hook. There was always one goat whenever the boys gathered, and he didn’t relish the idea of being the goat on a cold Saturday afternoon.
“Listen to that wind,” Reen said.
They listened in silence for a moment, the wind magnifying the cold outside. Through the basement window they could see a man struggling to keep on his hat, the skirts of his coat flapping wildly around his knees. The radio pierced the silence with “I Had the Craziest Dream.”
“It’s gonna be a cold winter, McGee,” Bud said.
“Did I ever tell you about the winter of eighty-eight?” Reen asked.
“I was born in that year,” Bud offered.
“Then you remember the snow.”
“Up to our eyeballs in snow that winter,” Bud said.
“Even the horses went berserk.”
“You can’t blame them.”
“Hell, no. ’Twasn’t a fit winter fer man nor beast.”
“Speaking of beasts,” Frank said, hazardously reopening the subject, “you’ve got to admit that Sue wasn’t exactly a prize package.”