“All right,” she said. “I’ll have that drink.”
“What’s it gonna be?”
“Scotch rocks, with a splash.”
Karras ordered her drink and a fresh bottle of beer for himself. One of the Kavakos brothers — Karras didn’t notice which one — served the order. Karras reached across the woman for her pack of cigarettes.
“You mind?”
“Go ahead. But you might not like it. They use Turkish tobaccos in those.”
“I get it. Like a joke, on account of my people can’t stand the Turks.” She was wise to go with the rest of the package. He liked that, too. “Who told you I was a Greek?”
“You don’t look it exactly. You’re kind of on the blond side. But you don’t exactly look like you grew up milking cows for Farmer Brown, either. Anyway, it wasn’t much of a longshot to peg you for a Greek. In this place, you call out the name ‘Nick’ or ‘Pete’ or ‘George’ and ten heads are going to turn around.”
“So what are you doing here, then?”
“I like to drink, and I don’t like to do it alone. This place is as good as any.”
Karras tapped his bottle to her glass. “Cheers, sweetheart,” he said.
Clint Hobbs’s orchestra started up in the nightclub, kicked off with a Woody Herman number. They didn’t sound much like the Thundering Herd, but the tune was recognizable, the rhythm section tight enough to empty the tables. Through the doorway, Karras could see Recevo leading Lois Roman to the dance floor, the old gent sitting placidly at his chair.
“You care to dance?”
“Maybe a little later.”
“How about the pictures? We could sneak out and see a picture right now. There’s a late show playing at the Keith’s. Scarlet Street, I think it is. Eddie Robinson and Joan Bennett. Dan Duryea plays a heavy—”
“What else would he play? Anyway, I’ve seen it.”
Karras dragged on his cigarette. “All right, then, how about we get some air? Take a walk.”
He was closer to her now and didn’t know how he had gotten there. Her breasts hung down and curved up again and the points of them pushed out against the fabric of the shirt. Karras had gotten hard standing there, just looking at her. She caught the blackness in his eyes.
“You’re moving too fast, soldier.”
Karras stood straight, backed off a step. “Hell, I didn’t mean anything. I didn’t mean to rush you. I’m just having a little fun, that’s all.”
She closed her eyes slowly, opened them, spoke softly and with patience. “You guys. You guys come back from the war, you think because you made it out alive, everything and everybody’s got to lay down right in front of you. Everything’s a gift now, wrapped up special with a bow on it, just for you. You think because you’ve made it, you’re never going to die. But I’m telling you, it’s only a reprieve that you got. Just a reprieve. Guys like you, you just don’t get it.”
He saw her hand shake as she tilted the glass back against her lips. “Settle down, will you? You lose someone in the war? Is that it?”
“No one in particular. I’m no different or better than anybody else.”
Karras stubbed out his cigarette. “Listen, I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot tonight, I guess. Maybe we can try some other time.”
“Soldier, I don’t even know your name.”
“Pete Karras.”
She extended her hand. “Vera Gardner.”
Karras shook her hand, rubbed his thumb down the softness of her forefinger. He let it go, dropped a few dollars on the bar.
“How about I call you some night?”
“I don’t give out my number in bars.”
“Then how about this. If you want, you call me. You can leave a message for me at Adams four, sixty-four eighty. You want to write it down?”
“I’ll remember it if I want to remember it.”
“I get it. So long, then. Vera.”
As he began to turn, she reached out and touched the mole on his face.
“What is this, Pete?”
“Just a birthmark,” he said. “Why, you think it ruins me?”
“No,” she said. “It suits you.”
He walked toward the nightclub, stumbling briefly on the uneven planks of the wood floor. He looked back once, past the back of Steve Nicodemus. Vera had stood now and was sliding her cigarettes into her handbag. Karras wished he had been smarter with her. He wished he hadn’t had so much to drink.
Karras found Recevo and Lois Roman at a table in the club. The old guy’s seat stood empty, and his herringbone topcoat was gone as well. Recevo winked at Karras, ordered everyone another round. They had a few laughs over the drinks and cigarettes. Karras liked Lois all right, who was sharp-witted but otherwise not awfully bright. In that respect, she and Recevo made a good pair. Lois went off to rearrange herself in the ladies’ room. Recevo and Karras watched her walk away.
“Beautiful,” said Recevo. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’m tellin’ you, Pete, that ass of hers has a life of its own.”
“Nice girl,” said Karras.
“Yeah, she’s nice. But I’m talkin’ about her ass. I could live down there, pal, change my address. Slip a napkin under my chin and just dig right on in—”
“Nice girl. Where’s her date?”
“The gentleman had a ‘previous engagement,’ he said. Bowed out real graceful. He’ll get his chance another night. But not tonight. Law of the jungle, buddy.” Recevo tapped the ash off his cigarette. “How’d you make out with Lizabeth Scott?”
“You think she looked like Lizabeth Scott?”
“Damn right.”
“I liked her. But I tried to reel it in too quick. I let her get away from me.”
“There’ll be others.”
“I know it.” Karras pointed to a small brunette on the dance floor, cutting it with a thin fellow in a brown suit. “I got my eye on that one right there.”
“Forget it,” said Recevo. “She’s been with that joker all night, both of them smilin’ like they’re all hopped up on somethin’. Just forget it.”
It was Vera who Karras couldn’t forget.
Lois Roman returned, and they had another round, and that beer only pushed Karras the wrong way. He stood from his seat, bumped into the adjacent table as he went toward the dance floor. The band was murdering Charlie Barnet’s latest, and all the couples were jitterbugging to it across the floor. Karras found the guy in the brown suit, tapped him on his shoulder. The guy turned around, smiled, shook his head, and he and his toothy girlfriend kept dancing on their way. Karras followed them, tapped Brown Suit’s shoulder, rougher this time. When the guy didn’t respond, Karras gripped him on the shoulder and pulled him away from his girl. Karras stepped in, grabbed the brunette’s hands, began to move her around the floor like she was filled with straw. She was trying to get her hands free when Karras was pulled off from behind.
He turned around, faced the guy in the brown suit. A couple of Brown Suit’s buddies were coming fast across the floor. Brown Suit reared back his fist like he had seen it done in the Westerns, just what any amateur would have done. Karras swatted away the punch with his left, dropped the guy to the floor with a straight right. The guy’s friends were just about on him now. So was Recevo; Karras could feel him by his side.
“You wanna try me, sister?” yelled Recevo over the music to the biggest of the friends. “Come on and try me!”
Karras had his fists balled, his right tight against his chest. He laughed.
Tsondilis came into the crowd, put himself between the two groups of men. He stepped up to Karras, shoved his face close in.
“Siga, vre,” said Tsondilis.