The Peddler (18 page)

He said, “Betty, look at me.”

She opened her eyes, turned toward him. He said, “Why can’t you come to Frisco with me? Be with me. Betty, I don’t want to be there without you. We could go tomorrow. Tonight even.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Tony. You know I can’t.”

“Don’t you want to be with me, Betty? Don’t you …” he stopped.

“Yes, Tony. I do want to.” Then she was close to him and his arms were around her and he was kissing her face, her cheeks, her lips and throat. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “Tony, don’t.”

He moved closer to her, pulled her roughly against him.

Late at night he took her home. They didn’t say anything when they arrived there. Tony kissed her, then she got out and went into the house. They’d said all they had to say earlier in the evening. Tony knew he was going back to San Francisco by himself. He knew, too, that if he’d asked Betty to marry him, she might gladly have come; he wasn’t sure, because he hadn’t mentioned marriage, had ignored her hints.

He couldn’t get married, didn’t want to consider marriage, even with Betty.

He drove away from the house feeling low and depressed, unhappy. He was tense inside, tied up in knots. She had been sweet, pleasant, passionate, and even a little tearful. But, Tony thought, maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t come to Napa again, had gone instead to San Francisco. Coming here hadn’t made him feel any better. He felt worse; about Betty, about everything. He drove downtown and found a pay phone in a drugstore, called Angelo’s number.

When Angelo answered, Tony said, “This is Romero. What’s the situation back there?”

“Romero? You weren’t to call me until tomorrow.”

“Yeah? Did I break a rule? Well, what about the heat? Has it cooled enough so I can come back where there’s a little action? I’m sick of the sticks.”

“Another week or two won’t hurt you, Tony.” Angelo’s silken voice was persuasive. “It’s still too hot here for you.”

Anger flared in Tony. He knew it was dangerous to speak harshly to Angelo, to the Top, but at the moment he didn’t care; he hardly considered his words as rash. “Nuts. What about Floyd Bristol? The cops don’t want me any more. I’m coming in.”

“I’m closer to things here, Tony. And I tell you it will be better if you wait. The man hasn’t even been to trial yet.”

“And he won’t be for months, probably. I can’t wait months, Angelo. I’m about to blow my top. I tell you, I’m coming in.”

“Indeed. Well, come if you must, Romero. See me as soon as you arrive.” Angelo hung up.

Tony replaced the receiver slowly, squinting. Angelo hadn’t sounded at all happy. And Angelo wasn’t a good man to have griped at you. Tony thought for a moment of Sharkey, and wondered why the hell he’d talked the way he had just now. It was that goddamn Betty, getting him all stirred up, boiUng; why the hell had he got messed up with her in the first place?

He went to his Cadillac and headed toward San Francisco, driving recklessly. He should have been excited at the prospect of returning there, but he didn’t experience the leaping pleasure he had expected. He kept thinking that every mile took him farther from Betty. And closer to Angelo.

The interview with Angelo when Tony hit town was simple enough. Angelo merely told Tony to take up where he’d left off, and for Christ’s sake to stay out of trouble. But Tony could tell the other man was angry, holding in his anger under a surface of cold calm. There was tension between them while they talked, and it stayed with Tony after he left and drove to his apartment. Seeing Angelo again had crystallized the resentment and irritation with him that Tony had felt for nearly two months; he hated him now. He hated him and admitted to himself that he did.

When Tony stepped inside the apartment, Maria ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Tony,” she said happily. “Golly, it’s good to see you again, honey.”

He put his arms around her automatically, feeling a small pleasure at seeing her again, but that was all he felt. He would almost as willingly have come home to an empty apartment.

“What’s the matter, Tony?” “Nothing’s the matter. I’m O.K.” “You look tired. God, I’ve missed you, honey.” “I’ve missed you, too, Maria.”

Suddenly he wanted to be alone; he didn’t want to be around Maria now. But he could hardly leave as soon as he got back. “I am a little tired,” he said. “Think I’ll go to bed.” “It is late.”

“Yeah,” he said. “How come you’re up? You know I was in town?”

“Angelo phoned me, Tony. I was surprised. I jBgured you’d let me know soon as you got in.”

“I … wanted to surprise you.” Angelo, he thought, Willie Fife had mentioned something about Angelo and Maria. He’d talk to Maria about that later. Right now he just wanted to go to bed and try to sleep. In bed, he pretended to fall asleep while Maria cuddled against him.

In the morning Maria seemed a bit sullen, and the discontent had grown in Tony. They spoke little over breakfast. Maria said to him, “What’s the matter, Tony? Something’s wrong, I can tell.” “Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not. I know you pretty well, Tony. You’ve changed some way.”

“We change every day. Like you, Maria. Like you and Angelo.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I know you been seeing him. Haven’t you?”

She kept staring at him, then said slowly, “Who told you that?”

“What difference does it make? I know it.”

For several seconds she was quiet. Then she said, “I won’t lie to you, Tony. I’ve seen him a few times. But I was worried about you; I wanted to know if you were out of trouble, how you were. You didn’t bother much about letting me know.”

“Don’t give me that.” Tony’s lips curled, the anger and frustration swelling like a bubble in him, making his words harsh. “Of all the slimy characters to pick!”

Maria’s voice rose a little. “I told you why I saw him. He’s your boss, isn’t he? I don’t know why I ever worried about you, anyway. And what’s wrong with Angelo?”

“I hate his guts, that’s what’s wrong with him,” Tony said explosively. “So keep the hell away from the bastard.”

“I’ll do as I please!” Maria stood up suddenly and looked down at Tony, hands on her hips. “You been out of town pawing all the fresh stuff you could get your hands on. You think Ilxn just supposed to sit here in this dead apartment and write your name over and over or something? You wouldn’t even write me, wouldn’t even phone me. I suppose you were having too much fun—”

“Shut up!” Tony shouted. “Don’t yell at me. You cheap bitch, you stay away from that little bastard. You got to mess with him, you can get your stuff and clear out of here, understand? You can get lost for good.”

Maria glared at him, anger coloring her face. Then, suddenly, her features softened. She sat down again and reached across the table to touch his hand. “Tony, what we fighting for? Don’t fight with me. I love you, Tony, you know it. Honey, I was with a hundred guys before and it didn’t bother you. Why let something like this get you. It don’t mean anything. Please, Tony, let’s not fight.”

“Aw, get the hell away from me.”

She bit her lips, eyes narrowing. She said slowly, “What happened while you were gone? You meet somebody, maybe, somebody you like better than me?”

“What gave you that idea?”

“That’s what it is, isn’t it, Tony?”

“I met a lot ot people. Now knock it off.”

“No. If you did, Tony, I will get out. You can do anything you want to, but you’ve got to be mine. If you’re not, I’ll pack up and go. Maybe that’s what you want me to do.”

He leaned forward. “Listen, I told you to shut your face. You talk like an idiot. You gonna knock it off or am I gonna have to slap some sense into you?”

She said angrily, “I told you once, Tony, don’t ever hit me any more. You got no more respect for me than to want to slap me around, then I don’t want to be with you.”

He sighed and got up. “Well, shut up. Let’s quit yelling at each other.”

She started to reply quickly, then stopped herself and said a moment later, “All right, Tony. I told you I didn’t want to fight with you in the first place.”

He went out. He headed for a bar and bought a drink, thinking that he was back only one night and he could hardly stand being around Maria. But there wasn’t anybody else close to him except her. They’d been together a long time. What was the matter with him? Why couldn’t things stay like they were? He thought about Betty, remembering little things about her, the way she’d smile, the way she’d cock her head on one side and purse her lips when she was seriously considering a question. He had another drink.

Tony drifted through the next days, angered by trifles, irritated with almost everything and everyone about him. He paid little attention to business. And all the time he thought of Betty. He hated his preoccupation with her memory, but it was like an obsession now and he could not stop thinking about her. He wondered, in almost all of his actions, what Betty would think of what he was doing. He had never before in his life had any standard, or moral yardstick, except his own, but now it was as though Betty’s words and talks with him, her ideas and beliefs, the things that had shocked or perplexed her, were important to Tony. It was as if Betty, herself, had become a kind of standard by which Tony measured all his actions.

And he finally admitted to himself that he was in love with her. He had been in San Francisco for several days, going through the old routine mechanically, alternating between periods of boredom and anger, thinking of Betty with a kind of sickness inside him. He wanted her with him, wanted her and hungered for her. And he knew that he would have to see her again, at least once again, to tell her how he felt.

He left San Francisco in the middle of the afternoon. He knew he wasn’t being smart, wasn’t using his head now, but it was something he had to do. He felt that if he waited any longer he’d blow up, start slugging people, do something crazy. He had to get it settled one way or another with Betty before he could think about his job, or even about his life. He didn’t tell anybody he was going, he just left, leaving undone the things he was supposed to do.

Tony and Betty were alone in the living room of her house; her parents were out. They had gone directly to her home from the store where she worked, and now they were alone together, Tony didn’t know how to start. It was the same as when he had last been in Napa. He had felt weak and excited when he saw her again, glad to see her and be with her, but unable immediately to say the right words, tell her what he wanted to tell her.

Finally he said, “I can’t seem to stay away from you, Betty. I kept thinking about you every minute.”

She said, “Tony, each time you’ve gone, I’ve hoped you’d stay away from me. But I think I’d die if you did.”

He turned toward her on the couch, took both her hands in his and looked at her. He let his eyes rest on her blue eyes and fair skin, the full red lips. Looking at her mouth he said, “Betty, I told you last time I was crazy about you. But it’s even more than that. Worse, or better. I’m in love with you. I been going crazy in Frisco without seeing you. I—Betty, I want to marry you.”

Her hands tightened on his, but she didn’t say anything.

“Well?” he said rapidly. “I want to marry you. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Yes, Tony. But…” She didn’t finish.

“But what? Don’t you want to get married?” He licked his lips, feeling flushed and feverish, a nervousness in his stomach. “Will you marry me, Betty?”

She hesitated and he felt the nervousness increasing, his throat getting drier. He had expected no hesitation from Betty, had considered only his own feelings and made up his mind that he would marry her. He felt suddenly panicky, then realized that he was squeezing her hands tightly, hurting her, and forced himself to relax.

She said softly, ‘Tony, I love you. I want to marry you. But … I couldn’t be married to you—I don’t know how to say it.” She paused, then said quickly, “You’d have to do something else, some other work. You know how I feel about what you do.”

“What’s the matter with it? Look, we just don’t think the same way about some things, Betty. There’s nothing wrong with it. You’ll see.”

She shook her head.

He went on, speaking the words in a rush, “I don’t make anybody do anything they don’t want to do. I just run things. I got a pretty big spot—and Fll get bigger ones. I make enough money so you can have anything you want.” He took a deep breath, let it out. “Anyway, you’re going to marry me.”

“No, Tony. I will if you’ll … get out. Do something else. Get a job Uke normal people and—”

“Come off it,” he said, a trace of anger in his voice. “You want me to be a lousy working stiff, go down to the office at five o’clock every morning, pick up my fifty bucks a week? Betty, what the hell would I do? Sell greeting cards? Wash dishes? Shine shoes maybe? You know I can’t do anything like that; I’m on my way now, just getting started. I’m going to be big, honey, really big. We’ll be rich. Only I want it with you.”

“Tony, you don’t understand. I couldn’t be married to you when you—when you make money from prostitutes, from something filthy like that.”

“Filthy! Are you nuts? Listen, dammit. You know I can’t quit. Why the hell don’t you grow up?”

“Don’t talk like that, Tony. I love you, but I don’t like what you do. I couldn’t stand it.”

He stared at her for a second, jaw muscles bulging, eyes squinting. “Betty, do you want to marry me?”

“Yes, Tony, if—”

“No ifs. I mean right now. The way I am. The way you are. I mean just get married with no prissy, stupid goddamn simpering about what’s good or bad or filthy or normal. Right now.”

“I couldn’t, Tony, I—”

He stood up suddenly, face flushing. “You don’t want a man, Betty. You’d like to marry a hunk of clay; something you could squeeze around any way you’d like it. You get different ideas tomorrow, and you’d want to squeeze it another way. You want something that’s got no mind and no bowels.” He stood up with his fists clenched at his sides, looking down at her, knowing in his brain that he couldn’t have his own life and have Betty, too—and that he couldn’t change himself now, even for her. And the hurt and anger grew inside him because he loved her.