The Moth by James M. Cain Page B

snappy shape, and dressed in pink sweater, white skirt, and red shoes. The other was a fat girl, maybe seventeen, with frizzled blond hair, a striped blue-and-white jumper, and a blue skirt. By then, Denny took a gander at them all, but I don’t think we’d have paid much attention to them if the dark one hadn’t ripped out a cussword: “That’s a hell of a note. I’ll say it is. One hell of a hell of a note.”
    The fat girl kind of looked at us and made a face. Denny went over and helped himself to some of her gum, and we stood around while the argument went on. It was about the delivery of ice. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I’ve got no way to deliver to the bay. It’s like I told you: my truck’s in the shop. Right around the neighborhood, where I deliver by barrow, I can accommodate you. But the shore is out of the question.”
    She turned away and started up the street, the fat girl after her, but of course Denny got in it: “Hey, hey, hey! Wait a minute! What is this?”
    They stopped then, and Denny said: “We haul ice. Naturally we do. We love to haul ice. But we don’t haul it unless people act friendly and say please and work on us.”
    The fat girl came over and stuck another piece of chewing gum in his mouth. He put his arm around her and didn’t exactly stop at the fifth rib. The other one came over and shot her eyes first at them and then at me. “What’s he talking about?”
    “Hauling ice. For friendly people.”
    “How would he haul it?”
    “How would you?”
    “... I’d need a car.”
    “So might we.”
    “You mean he’s got one?”
    “I mean I have.”
    “Say, that’s different.”
    She took the last piece of gum Fats had, stuck it in my mouth, and patted my cheek. “Is that friendly?”
    “For a start, that’s fine.”
    I put my arm around her, and I didn’t stop at the fifth rib either. She said I had a nerve, but didn’t pull away, and I could feel the blood pound in my mouth. Denny said pull the car over, he’ll get the ice. So next thing, she and I were crossing the street. She hooked little fingers with me. “Now look, big boy, you act friendly.”
    “Me ? I am acting friendly.”
    “How old are you ?”
    “... Nineteen.”
    The guy loaded the ice, a fifty-pound cake, on the floor in front, so she had to sit close beside me. It turned out her name was Lina, but Fat’s I never found out. I gave my real name. Denny said his was Randall, Randy Thomas, he said. “I thought you was Calvin Coolidge,” said Lina. But Fats did plenty of squealing as he helped her in the rumble, so it looked like she didn’t much care. It was a hot day, and going through the scrub woods toward the bay it seemed to get hotter, not cooler. Lina began flapping her dress to give herself air. Then she got the cutes and asked if that was allowed. I raised one foot and kicked open the hood vent, so her dress blew up, clear to her waist. She kept looking at me as she pulled it down. “You’re over nineteen, my handsome young friend. Considerably. What’s the big idea, telling me lies?”
    It turned out she was from Glen Burnie, and her family had some kind of hot-dog stand up there, but her brother had taken over this place beyond Eastport, not because it was much of a place, but because it had a big icebox, and they could use it for storage. And today, with the brother away and a lot of dogs, butter, ground meat, pop and stuff on hand, there was plenty to spoil if we didn’t get the ice there quick. So when we pulled up outside I piled that ice in the box, and she made sure everything was all right. Then she began to clown and ask if we’d have something cold. So while she and Fats were getting bottles Denny and I had a look around. It was just a soft-drink joint, with a front room that had a counter in it, and two back rooms, one a bedroom, the other a combination kitchen and pantry. Pretty soon Lina came out with soft drinks and sandwiches, and Fats passed them out. Denny suddenly seemed