Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck

one guy a helluva lot of trouble but who’d be lousy playing the field. She had something of the same quality Doc had. The Patrón decided to warn Fauna again. This kid could be pure murder in a hookshop. Such was the Patrón’s reasoned opinion, and the Patrón was a professional. If you’d take a doctor’s advice about a disease, you’d surely take the Patrón’s about a hustler. Both could be wrong, of course.
    The appraisals and judgments were almost instantaneous, so that by the time Suzy had opened her cigarettes, put one in her mouth, and lighted it, the judgment was complete.
    â€œHow are you?” Joseph and Mary asked.
    â€œOkay,” said Suzy. “Fauna wants some yellow pads and a couple of pencils—soft pencils.”
    The Patrón laid them out. “She does a lot of writing,” he said. “She’s used six pads in about a month.”
    â€œShe’s doing astrology.”
    â€œYou believe that stuff?”
    â€œNo, but it don’t do no harm.”
    â€œI knew a guy made a good living with it,” said the Patrón.
    â€œOh, she don’t charge nothing,” said Suzy.
    â€œI know,” said the Patrón. “I can’t figure why not. Fauna ain’t dumb.”
    â€œShe sure ain’t,” said Suzy.
    Doc came in with two empty beer bottles. “Get a couple of cold ones back on the ice, will you?” he asked.
    Suzy glanced at him, took him in, and looked away. His beard shocked her a little. She didn’t stare at him the way you don’t stare at a cripple.
    The Patrón said, “Why don’t you put in an icebox? Then you can take a case at a time.”
    â€œIt’s easier to let you keep the ice,” said Doc.
    â€œYou know Suzy here? She’s new at the Bear Flag.”
    â€œHow do you do?” said Doc.
    â€œHow do you do?” said Suzy. She would have said “Hi” to anyone else.
    When Doc had gone the Patrón said, “That’s a funny guy.”
    â€œIt takes all kinds,” said Suzy.
    â€œHe knows stuff I ain’t even heard of.” The Patrón was defending Doc the way everyone did.
    â€œKind of hoity-toity?” asked Suzy.
    â€œHell no! That’s the way he always talks. He don’t know no other way.”
    â€œWell, I guess it takes all kinds,” said Suzy.
    â€œHe gets bugs and stuff out of the ocean and sells them.”
    â€œWho to?”
    â€œWhy, there’s people’ll buy anything,” said the Patrón.
    â€œI guess so. Why don’t other people do it?”
    â€œToo much work, and you got to know what to get.”
    â€œSay, why does he wear that beard? I used to know a wrestler wore one.”
    â€œI don’t know why,” said the Patrón. “Why’d the wrestler?”
    â€œThought it made him look tough.”
    â€œWell, maybe Doc the same—but no, he don’t want to be tough.” The Patrón went on, “In the Army they made a guy with a beard shave it off. Said a guy with a beard wanted to be different, and the best way to not get along in the barracks is to be different.”
    â€œMaybe that’s it,” said Suzy. “I don’t mind a different guy if he ain’t too different.”
    â€œDames can take it,” said the Patrón. “They don’t like it but they can take it. What the hell am I doing all this talking for? I got work to do!”
    Suzy asked, “You Mexican?”
    â€œAmerican. My old man was Mexican.”
    â€œCan you talk that spick talk?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œPolly-voo?”
    â€œThat ain’t the same kind,” said the Patrón.
    â€œBe seeing you,” said Suzy, and she went out and let the screen door slam.
    She ain’t a bad kid, the Patrón thought, but I’d sure kick her the hell out of the Bear Flag.

    Doc looked out the window of Western Biological. He watched Suzy walk past