Read Online Red Rag Blues by Derek Robinson - Free Book Online Page B

he said.
    â€œI’m fixin’ that,” the repairman said. “Takes a while. Want to wait?” The landlord grabbed the phone and flung it at him and missed. “That’s not your property!” the repairman warned. “Belongs to the phone company!”
    The row was still raging when Julie and Luis walked in. “There’s the sonabitch!” the two old guys cried. “That’s the lousy Commie bastard!”
    â€œYou’re outta here,” the landlord told her. “Bad enough you’re a whore, but look at you, whorin’ with
this
stinkin’ Commie! Out!”
    â€œThe man’s right,” one of the two old guys said. “Ain’t American,” the other said. The Con Ed man and the NY Telephone man slipped away.
    â€œPack your stuff,” Julie told Luis. She dragged a suitcase from under her bed. Ten minutes later they were on the corner of First, looking for a taxi.
    â€œWhy would the phone company send a guy to fix the phone?” she said. “It wasn’t bust. It got cut off a month ago, when I couldn’t pay the bill. And I never asked Con Ed to fix anything.”
    A taxi slid alongside. “What’s a good hotel?” Luis asked.
    â€œThey’re not interested in me,” she said. “They know everything about me. So it has to be you.”

SWEET CHEAT
1
    They stayed at the Drake. Separate beds.
    Next morning, while he was in the bath, she took his suede shoes and twenty dollars from his wallet, went out and bought a pair of black loafers, same size and width. She came back without the suedes. “I’m not going around this city with a guy looks like he plays with the pixies,” she told him. “I’ve got my reputation to consider.”
    â€œMay God forgive you. I never shall.” But the loafers were comfortable. Later that day he bought another pair, in brown.
    By then, they had sublet a small penthouse apartment on Central Park West. “It’s cheap because it’s short,” the agent said. “The tenants are in Europe for three months. They return, you’re out. Have a nice summer.”
    â€œAmple time to achieve our goal,” Luis said. “We are rabid Marxist-Leninists. In three months, all this will be Bolshevik.” He waved a hand at Central Park. Julie shook her head.
    â€œThat’s nice,” the agent said. “The doorman’s name is Mike. Tip him five bucks a week. Don’t water the cactus. Anything else I can tell you?”
    â€œFor an underground movement, we’re awfully high up,” Luis said.
    â€œIt’s just an act,” Julie said wearily. “He’s just an actor.”
    â€œSure.” The agent gave her the keys. “I nearly voted Democrat myself, once.” At the door, he paused. “Nearly forgot. The hot water is very, very hot.”
    Luis was playing with the TV. “It’s such a hulking great thing, yet it creates such a terribly small picture,” he said. “Can’t see any future in it. Not much present, either.”
    She switched the set off. “Look: put your tiny brain in gear. You want to get us dumped on the street again? Jokes about Bolsheviks in Central Park don’t play in this city. You listening?” She shoved him until he stumbled. “What d’you think the agent meant when he said the water’s very, very hot? Wake up, Luis, for Christ’s sake.”
    â€œUm,” he said. “Perhaps even double-um.” He went away and took a shower; came out wrapped in towels. “Absolutely right,” he told her. “Very hot indeed.”
    *
    There was a phone, and it worked. She asked Bonnie Scott to come over for lunch. Bonnie arrived hungry.
    â€œDo me a favor and tell him again,” Julie said to her. “HUAC, McCarthy, the blacklist, the witchhunt. He won’t listen to me. What the hell do I know? I’m unemployable.” She went off