“She was born in the winter of eighty-eight, too,” Bud said. “You can’t blame her.”
“She kept telling me about the time she went to the Astor Roof. Now who the hell cares about the time she went to the Astor Roof?”
“Woody Herman is on the Astor Roof, isn’t he?”
“He’d better come inside,” Reen said. “He’ll get blown off with all this wind.”
“What a dizzy chick, I swear,” Frank said, shaking his head. “I wanted to tell her just what she could do with the Astor Roof.”
“She couldn’t,” Bud said. “Not in a million years.”
“Real dizzy,” Frank said, appreciating the boys’ sympathy.
When the knock sounded on the back door, Bud looked up, turning his attention from the cards.
“Somebody at the door,” he said.
“That’s the wind,” Frank said.
The knocking came again, unmistakable this time.
“Mighty talented wind,” Bud said.
Frank put down his sticks. “I’ll get it,” he said, even though neither of the other boys had made a move to rise. He walked past the card table and then through the door into the room with the furnace, glancing briefly at the big metal monster and then moving past the coalbin to the door.
“I’ll take this game,” Reen said, discarding.
“We’ll see.”
They heard the door opening and then the sullen rush of the wind. The debt sheet on the table Sapped wildly as Bud clutched for it, pinning it to the table. They heard Frank say something which the wind carried away.
“That’s the FBI,” Reen said. “My draft board sent ’em.”
“I’ll mail you cigarettes,” Bud said.
The sound of the door closing reached them. Bud released his grip on the debt sheet, and then Frank’s voice said, “Come on in. We were just hanging around.”
Bud turned, interested, as Frank entered the room again. Andy Silvera was behind him.
“Look who’s here,” Frank said. His back was to Andy, and he raised his eyebrows in a shrug that only Reen and Bud could see.
“I came to—”
“Hello, Andrew,” Reen said. “Pull up a Ouija board. The séance starts in ten minutes.”
Andy smiled weakly, wetting his lips, his tongue touching the tiny white ring of muscle and then retreating quickly into his mouth. “I came to return your jacket and tie, Bud,” he said. It sounded weak and thin coming from his mouth. “I... I didn’t get a chance to return it last night, I...” He let the sentence trail. He had mulled over the excuse all morning, and now that he was delivering it he was sure they could see clear through it, sure they would understand his motivation. He shouldn’t have tried to outsmart them. He should have known better than that. “I went to your house first,” he said, “and your mother told me you were here.” Then why didn’t you just leave the stuff with my mother? he thought he could read in Bud’s eyes. “I... well...” He smiled weakly, feeling utterly miserable, knowing he shouldn’t have tried to crash in this way. “Well, here it is!” he blurted.
“Oh,” Bud said, rising from the table. “Thanks.”
Andy held out the sports jacket, holding his flimsy excuse gingerly. Bud lifted it from his hands and tossed it onto one of the chairs, as if recognizing the flimsiness of the excuse and treating it as summarily as it warranted.
“The tie is in the pocket,” Andy said. “The right-hand pocket.”
Bud nodded. “Where’d you disappear to last night?” he asked. “Take off your coat, why don’t you?”
He’d been afraid they wouldn’t ask him to stay, and his relief must have shown on his face. Casually he said, “All right,” and then he hastily shrugged out of his coat, hoping they wouldn’t change their minds before he’d finished. The boys regarded him silently. He felt the silence of the room, and something told him he should try to break it.
“It’s very cold outside,” he said. He looked around for someplace to put his coat.
“There’s a rack in the corner,” Frank said.
Andy walked to the rack and hung the coat on a peg. He turned and began rubbing his hands together, feeling like a discovered stowaway. “Very cold,” he said.
“Where’d you disappear to last night?” Bud repeated, sitting and picking up his cards.
“Well, I went home,” Andy said.
Bud raised his eyes. “I guess it’s not much fun if you can’t dance,” he said softly.
“No. No, it isn’t. I... I went home.”
“We went home, too,” Reen said sourly. Frank glanced at him hastily, expecting more, glad when more did not come.
“How’d you like the dance otherwise?” Frank said.
“It was all right.”
The boys were silent for a moment. Reen and Bud played seriously. Frank leaned against the cupboard, staring out the window across the room. Andy shifted his weight uneasily.
“Listen to that wind,” Frank said.
“It’s very cold outside,” Andy said, feeling foolish as soon as he’d said it. Of course they knew it was cold outside.
“This begins to sound like the Weather Bureau,” Reen said, making Andy feel even more foolish. He picked a card from the discard pile. “Suppose I knock with four, Bud?”
“Try it and see,” Bud said.
“Is that gin rummy?” Andy asked, again feeling foolish, wondering why he’d come here in the first place, wondering whatever gave him the idea he could fit, wondering if anyone would ever welcome him anywhere.
“It ain’t bridge,” Reen said. “You want to play?”
“No. Oh, no, I just wondered.”
“We’re playing for very high stakes, anyway,” Bud said.
“How much do I owe you now, Gaylord?”
“Fifty thousand,” Bud said.
Of course they’re kidding, Andy thought. Are they kidding?
“Merciful Father isn’t much,” Frank said. “We run down to the Dance Palace every now and then. They’ve got a good setup there.”
“Yeah,” Bud said. “A live band. And an older crowd.”
“I prefer records,” Reen said. “Give me canned Barnet to these half-assed local outfits any day.”
“Watch your language,” Bud said. “We’re a half-assed local outfit.”
“You don’t count,” Reen said. “How about knocking with three?”
“Go ahead.”
“You’re probably sitting there with two.”
“Go ahead,” Bud taunted. “Knock.”
“No thanks.”
“If you’d known how to dance,” Bud said carefully, “you’d probably have had a better time.”