The Amboy Dukes by Irving Shulman Page A

morning, and he knew that Alice was going to wake him to go to school.
    The hall was dark and the musty smell was more pronounced since the weather had become warmer. Slowly he climbed the steps to the third floor and quietly opened the front door to the flat. He took off his shoes, tiptoed into the kitchen, and gently shut the door. He stopped to listen to Alice’s even breathing and quickly placed the gun, cartridges, and Ramses inside the pillowcase on his bed, where they would be safe until morning.
    Frank stretched and yawned as he put on his pajamas and then he shook Alice gently.
    “Wake up, kid,” he whispered.
    “Frank?” she whimpered.
    “Ssh,” he said. “Listen, Crazy Sachs’ll never bother you any more. I just clouted him around and warned him to let you alone.”
    “You been fighting!”
    “Naw.” He laughed quietly. “He didn’t even get a sock in. Now go back to sleep. Good night.”
    “Good night.”
    Frank started to get into bed and stopped. He went back to the kitchen, lit a match, and approached the kitchen table. In the center of the table lay another note and some bills and change. That meant they were working late again tomorrow. Poor kid, Alice, he felt sorry for her.

 
Chapter 3
     
    Frank had every intention of going to school Tuesday morning until he descended the tenement steps and saw Benny sitting behind the wheel of his brother’s convertible Dodge, grinning so that his mouth seemed to cover his whole face. Benny was pleased with himself, and as he pressed on the horn the clear golden notes were a call to freedom, to swift driving in the sun, away from the dull red walls of the school. The car was a smooth-looking job: light blue, red leather seats, white-wall tires, fancy fog lights, and all the other extras that Benny’s brother Sam could buy. With Benny sitting behind the wheel of the Dodge and twelve gallons of gasoline in the tank that had been purchased with counterfeit coupons, school was out. With much laughter they had driven around Prospect Park, lain on the grass to get an early sun tan, and lunched in the Canton Inn on Flatbush Avenue, where they were able to kid around with a couple of good-looking girls who went to Erasmus and who were so impressed by the blue Dodge that they asked Frank and Benny to telephone them soon. These girls from Flatbush in their tweed suits and small jaunty hats had class and assurance, and Frank told Benny that they would have to work them easy, but Benny laughed and told him that there wasn’t any difference. Three or four stiff drinks would soften up any babe, and if she smoked a reefer, that was all. And if she didn’t smoke, a couple of aspirins in a rum cola would send her rocketing to the moon.
    In many ways Frank was still naive, and the thought of getting a girl drunk or high made him squirm. But a guy couldn’t get along by being soft, and if he didn’t take advantage of the situation someone else would. And anyway, he thought, giving a babe a reefer wasn’t bad. Hell, he smoked three a day now, though he wasn’t going to smoke any more than that if he could help it. Some guys were so hopped up on tea they were rocking on their heels. Reefers were like drinking or getting laid or anything else that he got a kick out of. But no matter what it was, nothing was going to get the better of him.
    It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon when Frank and Benny opened the door of the Winthrop Billiard and Recreation Parlor and greeted some of the Tigers who were shooting a game of rotation on the first table.
    “H’ya, guys.” Black Benny placed his hat on a hook. “Wanta see the car I’m driving?”
    The Tigers crowded to the open door and whistled.
    “That’s a smooth job,” one of them said. “Boy, with a load like that, would I have me a time.”
    “Yeah,” another one agreed, “a babe would have to come across to ride in that car with me. I wouldn’t bother with nothing else. How about it?” He turned to