She giggled and sipped her drink.
Don’t laugh, I snapped. You’re Exhibit A — first Yeamon, then me. It was an ugly thing to say, but I was raving now and I didn’t care. Hell, I added. I’m no better. If somebody came up to me and said, ‘Tell me, Mister Kemp, just what is your profession?’ I’d say, ‘Well, you see, I swim around in murky waters until I find something big and bad to clamp onto — a good provider, as it were, something with big teeth and a small belly.’ I laughed at her. That’s the combination a good suckflsh looks for — avoid the big belly at all costs.
She looked at me, shaking her head sadly.
That’s right! I shouted. I’m drunk and nuts both — no hope for me, is there? I stopped pacing and looked at her. Well there’s not much hope for you either, by God. You’re so damn stupid that you don’t know a suckflsh when you see one! I started pacing again. You said to hell with the only person down here without cups on his belly, and then you grab on to me, of all damn people. I shook my head. Christ, I’m cups all over — I’ve been grabbing leftovers so long I don’t know what the real thing looks like anymore.
She was crying now, but I kept on. What the hell are you going to do, Chenault? What can you do? I went back to the kitchen for more drink. You better start thinking, I said. Your days are numbered here — unless you want to pay the rent when I go.
She kept on crying, and I walked back to the window. No hope for an old suckflsh, I muttered, suddenly feeling very tired. I wandered around for a while, saying nothing, then I went over and sat down on the bed.
She stopped crying and sat up, leaning on one elbow. When are you leaving? she said.
I don’t know, I replied. Probably next week.
Where? she asked.
I don’t know — someplace new.
She was silent for a moment, then she said, Well, I suppose I’ll go back to New York.
I shrugged. I’ll get you a plane ticket. I can’t afford it, but what the hell.
You don’t have to, she said. I have money.
I stared at her. I thought you couldn’t even get back from St Thomas.
I didn’t have any then, she said. It was in that suitcase you got from Fritz — I hid it, so we’d have something left. She smiled faintly. It’s only a hundred dollars.
Hell, I said. You’ll need some when you get to New York.
No I won’t, she replied. I’ll still have fifty, and — she hesitated. And I think I’ll go home for a while. My parents live in Connecticut.
Well, I said. That’s good, I guess.
She leaned over and put her head on my chest It’s horrible, she sobbed. But I don’t know where else to go.
I put my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t know where she could go, either, or why, or what she could do when she got there.
Can I stay here until you go? she asked.
I tightened my arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer. Sure, I said. If you think you can stand the gaff.
The what? she asked.
I smiled and stood up. The craziness, I said. Do you mind if I get naked and drunk?
She giggled. What about me?
Sure, I said, taking off my clothes. Why not?
I made some new drinks and brought the bottle back to the table beside the bed. Then I turned on the fan and put out the lights while we sipped our drinks. I was propped up on pillows and she had her head on my chest The silence was so total that the clink of the ice in my glass sounded loud enough to be heard on the street. The moon was bright through the front window and I watched the expression on Chenault’s face, wondering how she could look so peaceful and content.
After a while I reached over and filled my glass again. In the process, I spilled some rum on my stomach and she leaned down to lick it off. The touch of her tongue made me shudder, and after a moment of contemplation I picked up the bottle again and spilled some rum on my leg. She looked up at me and smiled, as if I were playing some kind of an odd joke, then she bent down and carefully licked it off.