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Show Chick Sales 13 Old Ben had suddenly reeled out of the tavern's double doors, laughing, and had slapped Herman on the back. "You wait for Papa, l i t t l e boy?" Ben leaned in close, breathing whisky steam on Herman through gaps in his yellowed teeth. "You wait a long time-a long time." Then he stumbled down the muddy street, roaring a laugh that quieted all music in and out of Herman. "Herman." He heard his name being shouted from behind double doors. "Herman, what in the hell are you doing out? You are supposed to be home helping Mother." " I wanted to help Jack, Dad." "You are not allowed on these streets ever at night, not until you are old enough." His father's face was red, his eyeglasses further down his nose than usual as he leaned on the half door, swaying. "Good night, Alf." Her creamy voice cut into Alf's angry words, her dark eyes peered out of the tavern over Alf's shoulder, her ruby-red fingernail shifting his t i e. Herman had gone to bed that night crying about the red belt mark on his buttocks. "Miss L i l y , Miss S i l l y , Miss Willy, Miss K i l l y , " he chanted in a whisper as he punched the curved iron headboard with his f i s t. " I will buy a washing machine for Mother. You wait and see." "Good luck, son. She would like that, but she's used to promises." The bull hesitates. "Stay close with him, Herman. He's getting wary. And hurry along now. Why do you drag your feet like that?" |
