Black Friday by David Goodis Page A

around in that room, putting this chair here and that chair there, and it's a cinch you'll soon be hearing the sound of the bedsprings when she tries the mattress. You're in for some heavy work with that Frieda and this afternoon was just a light session compared to what it's going to be from here on in. You're really in for it now, you'll be doing it and hating it. All right let's walk away from that; it isn't bedtime yet. You're sitting here facing Mattone, not Frieda, and he's under the impression the only thing you got on your chest is him and his oily smile, his smooth talk that tries so hard to slide under your skin. He'd jump for joy if you'd start sweating and cracking up. I think if you let him take it far enough he could really get on your nerves. He's certainly a skunk and although the only way to deal with skunks is keep far away from them it stands to reason you can't put distance between yourself and this one here, so what's to do except get up there on the mound and pitch a few at his head. We'll see if we can get that smile off his face.
He heard Mattone saying, "You look lonesome, mister. I never seen anyone look so lonesome."
"It isn't that," he said. He looked down at the three dollars. "I was wondering about this," indicating the money. "Just trying to remember why I offered it to you."
"But I told you why," with the light oil dripping again, the smile ever so soft and thin. "You want me on your team."
Hart pretended a thoughtful frown. He spoke absently. "No, I don't think so. It couldn't be for that reason."
"Wanna bet?" And Mattone flicked a wink at Rizzio.
"What I think is--" Hart held onto the thoughtful frown, his voice vague as he imitated someone talking aloud to himself, "--maybe there was no reason at all."
"You can't fool me," Mattone sneered. "I ain't no imbecile like this one here," pointing to Rizzio. The pointing finger moved so that it aimed at the three dollars. "Three worms' on the hook, that's what it is. You're lonesome and you want company. You're scared and you want help."
"That would make sense," Hart said, still frowning thoughtfully, "except for a list of items we maybe ought to look at."
"All right," Mattone said. He tried to put a sneer in it. "Let's take a look."
"First thing," Hart said, "the girl. What's her name again?"
"Myrna. Her name is Myrna." And Mattone glanced sideways at his injured arm.
"Well, what I'm saying is," Hart said, "that's item one and we can cross it off; the girl doesn't scare me."
"You sure?" Mattone prodded.
Hart shrugged. He tossed it away with, "She tries anything, I'll clip her in the teeth."
Mattone was trying to be suave again, the oil coming back to his voice as he said, "That's a privilege reserved side.' This ain't no social club where all you gotta do is pay a fee to join up. This is what they call a very tight outfit, and as far as you're concerned I'm willing to bet--"
"Save your money," Hart spoke softly. And then he pitched it, "I get the wire from Charley I'm working Friday night."
"Friday--" Mattone blinked a few times. "Charley told you about Friday night?"
This is fun, Hart said to himself. He was nodding slowly, saying, "The Kenniston place."
Mattone looked at Rizzio and said, "You hear this?"
"So?" Rizzio made a meaningless gesture. "So I hear it. So what?"
Mattone had his mouth open but he couldn't talk.
Hart said, "That crosses off item two. I think it sorta louses up your theory that I'm scared. Don't you think so?"
There was no answer, not in words, anyway. Mattone made a straining effort to say something, but all that came out was a twisted grunt.
"Another thing you said," Hart went on, "you made the claim I'm lonesome and I want company. And that brings up item three. It's a little favor Charley did for me tonight, the kind of favor he wouldn't do if I was on the outside or even halfway in, or let's say ninety-nine percent in. He did something an Eskimo husband does when you're his guest, except the Eskimo gives her to you for