“How? I don’t even have a hat to tip.”
“Simply ask her, dear, ask her if she’s available. Slip her ten dollars as you do; she won’t be insulted.”
The waitress came back, smiled, and said, “Have you looked over our drug list? All illegal drugs at the controlled international prices plus twenty-five percent. Guaranteed pure, we obtain them from government sources.”
“Not for me, thank you, dear. Eunice? Want a trip?”
“Me? I don’t even take aspirin. But I want a steady supply of champagne. And I could use a sandwich, or something. Chiquita, is there a kitchen?”
“There is always a gourmet chef on duty, Ma’am; it says so at the bottom of your wine card. Anything from snacks to Maine lobster. Would you like to see a menu?”
“No, thank you. Maybe a big platter of little sandwiches for all of us, Jake. And don’t forget that other matter.”
Joan Eunice saw Jake get out a ten-dollar bill. It disappeared and Joan decided that the girl must have folded it with one hand and palmed it. Jake spoke to her in a voice lower than the music.
She smiled and answered clearly. “No, sir, I’m not even allowed to dance with customers—and I’m not in that branch of the business; I’m married. But I can arrange it.” The waitress glanced toward the ‘beautiful people’ and looked back. “For you sir? Or for both of you?”
“No,” Jake answered. “It was just curiosity.”
“My curiosity,” Joan put in. “I’m sorry, dear; ‘I shouldn’t have made him ask you.”
“Ma’am, a high roller can be as inquisitive as be wishes. Baby needs shoes.” She smiled. “Twins. Boys. Two years old. I was licensed for two and now I’m arguing with the Board as to whether twins use up my license. Since twins are okay under a one-baby license. I’d like to have a little girl, too.”
“Jake, be a high roller again; I want to ask” —Joan leaned forward, read the girl’s name written or tattooed above her left breast—”Marie another question.”
“He’s paid for more than one question, really, Ma’am.” But a second note disappeared as quickly as the first.
“Marie, do you live inside the turf? With kids?”
“Oh, goodness, no! My husband would never permit that. An armed bus picks me up after supper and delivers me home around breakfast time. Most of us use it. Except—” She indicated the exception by inclining her head toward the corner. “My husband is on night shift at Timken—we match up pretty well.”
“Who takes care of your twins at night? Nursery?”
“Oh, no, Mama lives with us. No huhu. Actually, Ma’am, this is a good job. I’ve been a waitress where I had to wear uniforms—and the work was hard and the tips were small. Here the work is easy and the tips are usually high. Oh, sometimes a customer gets drunk and gropy, but I don’t bruise all that easily—and drunks are often the highest tippers. Never any trouble; the guards watch everything.” She smiled at Joan. “You could get a job here in two seconds, Ma’am. All it takes is a friendly manner and a good figure—and you’ve got both.”
“Thank you, Marie.”
“I’d better go, the maitre d’ is bringing a party to another of my tables. ‘Scuse, please—sandwiches will be right in.” The girl left. Joan said, “Jake, would you say that she has found her niche?”
“Seems so. As long as she keeps her figure and saves her money. She doesn’t pile up Social Security points here; this doesn’t count as a job under the rules, it’s off the map.”
“She doesn’t pay income tax?”
“Oh, certainly! The fact that her income doesn’t exist, legally, means nothing to revenooers. Though she may hold out a good portion—I would. My dear, do you want to try this music?”
“Jake, I thought you didn’t dance?”
“I don’t dance this modern stuff. But I can try, if you want to. I wonder if that combo can play Rock? This new stuff has so little beat I don’t see why they call it dance music.”
Joan chuckled. “Fm so much older that I despised Rock instead of lilting it. Swing was my’ era, Jake, and on back clear to the Bunny Hug—though I didn’t learn to dance until the fox-trot crowded out the rest.”