“I don’t know,” Bud said. “Have you?”
“I’ve done a lot of things since the last time I saw you,” Andy said, and now there was no trickery in his eyes, only the glow now, and the glow was not an amused one. It burned with an inner light, an almost eerie light. “A hell of a lot of things. And there’s a hell of a lot more to do yet.”
“I guess so,” Bud said.
“What don’t you like about being home?” Andy asked.
“Everything. My mother gave away all my clothes, and it’s hot as hell in these blues, and I feel as if I don’t know anybody any more, not even you, and I’m scared I’ll curse at the dinner table.”
“I know that joke,” Andy said. “It’s a good one.” He laughed that too-loud laugh again, and this time he glanced unmistakably at the redhead and Bud felt a momentary prick of irritation.
“You’ll get used to the changes,” Andy said, and the redhead burst into laughter, and Bud suddenly realized that Andy and the redhead were bellowing out mating calls, and it annoyed the hell out of him because they were supposed to be old pals out on the town in a great big glorious reunion, and here he was making birdcalls at a strange redhead. If Andy’d wanted to go hunting, that would have been fine with Bud, and he’d certainly have gone along with him. But it had been Andy’s suggestion to come to this place on Fifty-second Street where they could “talk and listen to bop. You’ll like bop, Buddy.”
He had not listened to any bop so far, and the talk had consisted of the kind of inane drivel you pass back and forth with a stranger on a chow line. He didn’t mind polite casual conversation but he had really hoped to get down to brass tacks with Andy, had really hoped his friend would set him straight on what had happened since last summer, and here he was carrying on with the redhead.
“I hope I get used to it,” he said patiently. “So far it’s been one hell of a big disappointment.” His eyes met Andy’s pointedly.
“The changes, you mean,” Andy said abstractedly, and then he swung his chair around so that he could get a better look at the redhead, and Bud turned his head and saw that she had one elbow propped up on the table and that she was leaning over, and that she was wearing a very low-cut Shantung dress, and that she was really not a bad looker at all — none of which facts exonerated Andy so far as he was concerned. “Well,” Andy said, “tomorrow we’ll go on a picnic or something, huh? With Carol, and maybe she can get a girl for you.”
“Thanks,” Bud said. “Tomorrow I’m going shopping.”
“Say, tomorrow’s Saturday, isn’t it?” Andy said. “Well, I couldn’t go, anyway. I’ve got a fitting for band jackets. With the new band I’m on — Jam Jerralds. You ever hear of him?”
“No,” Bud said.
“Well, he’s got a B band, but things are beginning to get a little tighter in the field, now that the war’s over. He’s not small time, you understand — used to play with Tommy Dorsey and Claude Thornhill — but he’s not big time, either, like he doesn’t play the Paramount. He cuts a lot of disks, though, and there’s extra loot in that. And even though he plays trumpet, he gives his trumpet men solos, too, so it sounds like a good deal. We’ll be leaving week after next, you know. Hey, here come the boys now!”
Bud turned and saw the musicians climbing onto the bandstand — three colored fellows who waved out at the crowd. One of the musicians stopped to talk to the man with the redhead, and Andy watched him and said, “I know that guy. I met him at a session in Harlem. He blows a wild tenor sax. He really blows up a storm.”
The piano player and the drummer made themselves comfortable, and a fourth musician came from behind the drape near the bandstand, climbed up to his chair, and picked up his trumpet. The tenor man called off the beat, and then the piano and drums got to work on something very soft with a lot of high treble and cymbal work. It took Bud several moments to realize they were fooling around with “How High the Moon,” and then he listened more carefully, hearing the intricate variations the piano man was lacing around the basic chords.
“Can you hear how cool it is?” Andy asked, and Bud nodded and listened, absorbed, following the progression now and marveling at it. The tenor man put his horn to his lips and came in, blowing very easily, effortlessly performing the same sleight-of-ear with the chords. It was fascinating to listen to, and Bud lost himself in it and he wouldn’t have noticed the redhead walking past their table if Andy hadn’t suddenly (swung around in his chair. He looked up then and watched the girl walk across to the Ladies’ Room. She wasn’t wearing a girdle, and the Shantung hugged her body, and Andy glued his eyes to her and didn’t turn away until the door to the john closed behind her.
“How’s Carol?” Bud asked pointedly.
“She’s great. Did you dig that redhead? Mmmm, man. Edible.”
“Are you still going together?”
“Why, sure,” Andy said, surprised. “Hell, we’re gonna get married one of these days. What makes you ask?” Bud shrugged noncommittally, and Andy apparently caught on then because he said, “The redhead, you mean? Daddy, you’re dead when you stop looking.”
“Sure,” Bud said.
“Oh, man, Carol and me are like that.” He held out two fingers and pressed them together. “Just like that. But there’s a lot to do, man, you know? Hell, I’m a young kid.”
“I know.”
“Buddy,” he said seriously, “we’re only young once, and when that’s gone, what’s left? You take a look at my old man and you’ll see what I mean. Some things you can only do when you’re young. And, dad, I’m going to do them all.”
“Go ahead,” Bud said. “Do them.”
“Oh, I will, don’t worry.” Andy paused. “When are you going to find someone like Carol?”
Bud smiled foolishly. “I’m still looking.”
“You think you’ll ever find what you want?”
“There’s always another streetcar,” Bud said, shrugging.
“Sure, but only if you’re going someplace.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, what the hell, there must be some girl.”
“Not yet,” Bud said.
“What about Helen?”
“What about her?”
“Nice kid.”
“If you like nice kids.”
“Seriously, Bud.”
“No,” Bud said.
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? Does there have to be a reason? It’s just no, that’s all. Helen and I were through long before I went into the navy. You know, you and Carol make me laugh. Just because a guy hangs around with a girl for a while, you think he’s—”
“Is it because she’s Jewish?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”