I guess it was only a second or two that we stood there looking at each other, a couple of strangers united by a mother and a father and separated by a threshold, but it sure seemed a lot longer. I have a vague, dim memory of glimpsing Dutch lying on the bed, a bottle of cheap beer in his hand, wearin’ only his shorts and his socks, held up by a couple of garter belts. There’s nothing makes a man look more foolish than to be caught in his stars and garters, but there was Dutch and there was I and which of us was the bigger fool at that moment?
“Zat you, Bo?” said Dutch. They say Jews don’t drink, but whoever says that has already had a few shots too many, in my opinion.
Neither May nor I could muster words at this moment.
“Bo?” shouted Dutch.
“No,” I managed to croak, “it ain’t Bo.”
“Where the hell is that sonofabitch?” screamed Dutch. “I’ll cut his balls off, that motherfuckinsonofabitchinbastard.”
I stepped into the room, managing to avoid looking at May. “You shouldn’t oughta talk like that when there’s a lady present, Dutch,” I said.
Dutch managed to point both eyes in the same direction. “The gallant brother, come to rescue the fair virgin!”
I decided to ignore that. “At least, she used to be a lady—”
Dutch was struggling to his feet, sloshing the bottle of beer. “You know what they say about Catholic girls?” he wobbled.
He drew nearer. May remained frozen.
“They might not fuck you on the first date…”
“Until you made a whore out of her,” I spat.
“…but they sure will blow you.”
The force of my blow put the Dutchman on his arse. May grabbed my arm. “Don’t,” she said in that little voice, and even with all that alcohol in her, she still had something of a head left on her shoulders. Unfortunately she hadn’t been thinking with that part of her body much then. “They’ll hear you.”
Dutch was still sitting in a puddle of beer, looking bewildered. “Madden?” he said. “I thought we was friends.”
“We used to be,” I muttered.
“That’s a hell of a way to treat a friend,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“Put some clothes on,” I told my sister.
“How d’ya like my girlfriend?” he burped.
“I used to like her a lot,” I said as I fumbled for May’s things. Her dress was thrown into a heap in the corner, her stockings were draped over the edge of the bed. As I reached for them, Dutch shot out a hand and grabbed me.
“What d’ya think you’re doin’?” he managed.
I slugged him again, hard. I wasn’t worried a bit about Abie and Lulu because they knew, they knew the rules, they knew it was my sister, they’d tried to save me from my own folly. After all I was supposed to be out of town and here I was, big as life. They were right guys, even if they were working for this dirty bastard.
My punch knocked the beer bottle out of Dutch’s hand and I picked it up. I was about to hit him over the head with it when this time it was May who grabbed me. “No.”
“Go home to your husband.”
“No.”
“Go home to your mother, then.”
“No.”
“Then just go home, for Christ’s sake.”
“No.”
I was uncomfortable in that room, facing off against my naked sister, defenseless and beautiful and my own flesh and blood.
“Go home to your brother, then. The one who always took care of you when nobody else could.”
I don’t think either of us was ever closer to killing each other at that moment. She didn’t even bother to cover herself up. Instead she let me have it. I woulda rather’ve had it again from Little Patsy and his mugs ten times over.
“I would,” she said, “but I don’t have that brother no more. He’s gone, disappeared. The brother I knew was a real man who thought big and dreamed big, and wanted me to be part of those thoughts and dreams. We were gonna be a team, him and me, partners, the way he became partners with Monk and Dutch and all the rest. But he just never could start seein’ me as a partner and kept on seein’ me as just a girl.” She paused. “Like now.”
I stepped back, ready for anything. Ready to slug Dutch again, or kill him, or hold her, sweet May, in my arms once more. “How long’s this been goin’ on?” I asked, throwing her dress at her.
“Long enough.”
I had to ask. “What about…that other stuff? The stuff you told me wasn’t true?”
“What was I supposed to tell you?” she said.
“Let’s go.”
“You go. I’m staying.”
“Don’t you love Jack?”
“Don’t you love me?”
Dutch had somehow managed to get to his feet. I’ll say this about him, he was tough, he could take a punch. I wish some of my fighters had his jaw, and his heart. “I think you better go now, Madden,” he said.
“I think you’re right, Dutch,” I said.
I stepped back out into the hallway. There was no sound from below; Abe and Lulu had too much class to come between a couple of guys arguing over a dame, the oldest argument in the book, and with always the same result somewhere down the line.
“What are you gonna do?” she asked me as she started to close the door.
“I’m going to take a vacation,” I said. “A long vacation.”
“I wish I could go with you. I wish I had come with you.”
“I wish you’d come with me all along. Now it’s too late.”
She got that look in her eye then, that wise look she’d had since she was a kid. “Owen, are you in trouble again?” She’d been saying that to me since the old days on Tenth Avenue.
“I’m just after catchin’ a few birds, May. And maybe lettin’ a few fly away.”
“I always wanted to fly.”
I leaned forward and kissed her lightly on her cheek. “Good-bye, May.”
Then she shut the door and was gone. The next time I saw her, we were back on 34th Street, just like we was kids again, only not. I was too dumb to get her play, and she was too smart to keep on playing. Frenchy wasn’t the only one who could figure odds.