Place in the City Read Free Page A

want.”
    â€œLay off,” Timy told them. “I got a stag to go on.”
    â€œWhaddyu want?”
    â€œSomething new.”
    â€œWell—take yu pick.”
    â€œListen, Shutzey, I want one broad for a stag party.”
    â€œGeesus Christ,” Shutzey whispered. “You ain’t serious. What d’yu want sumpen like that fur, when I can give yu a lineup? You got a crack on, Timy.”
    â€œYu got it or no? You heard me the first time.”
    â€œLemme think.” Shutzey looked at him, squinting and screwing up his broad, impassive face. “Suppose sumpen happens to her?”
    â€œAin’t I big enough for yu? Maybe yu gotta kick coming, Shutzey? Maybe I don’t treat yu right. Ain’t there going tu be a judge there—an’ a magistrate?”
    â€œAwright.”
    They went out. Meyer stared after them; he stared fascinated at the flakes of snow that swirled in and melted on the floor. Then he began to arrange the cigar boxes. What was the use of thinking? It went on. Nothing struck Shutzey dead; nothing struck Timy dead. They prospered; their wealth piled up. Where was justice then? He, who was an honest man—as honest as any man—slaved all his life, and in the end, what did he have? Then what was the use of anything at all, when he was an honest man?
    He picked up the New York Times , and turned to the stocks. He put on his glasses and read eagerly. Then he calculated with a pencil on the inside of an empty cigar box. And all the time he chewed nervously on his tongue.

I T IS hard to say what Meyer would have done if he had seen Jessica behind the curtain. He would not believe anyway that Jessica had been there all the time, shivering and listening. The Meyers lived above the store, four rooms, managing this way: the two older girls in a bedroom, Jessica in the living room, which they also used as a dining room, and Meyer and his wife in a room. Then the kitchen. It was not so big, but nevertheless, Meyer gave his girls the best. They had clothes and education, and a good many other things that most girls don’t have. They were all of them handsome girls, and to Meyer they were like figures out of the Song of Songs.
    From the apartment, a staircase led down to the store; a green plush curtain hid the staircase.
    Jessica was going out, but when she heard Shutzey’s voice, she stopped just behind the curtain. She stood there listening and trembling, and all the while caressing her breasts and thighs. But she wasn’t frightened. A stag party—not all like Shutzey; but if they were all like Shutzey—Easily, he was the strongest man she had ever known; and she knew him. Didn’t he always look at her when she left the store?
    When they had left, she slipped back upstairs, into her sisters’ bedroom, and stayed there. She looked into the dresser mirror, cocking her head to one side and taking good stock of herself.
    She was very blond for a Jewess, with real yellow hair, and slim with narrow hips, but good up above anyway, the way a girl should be. She knew.
    She walked back and forth, swinging her hips, and craning her head to see herself in the mirror. When she finished training school, she’d be a teacher. But hitch your wagon to a star, and you’d go up. Already Timy had the ward under his finger, like a cockroach—just like that. Timy would go places; everybody said that: and Shutzey would go places, too. But Dolan had a belly already. Undressed he would look like a kewpi doll, while Shutzey was straight as an arrow and strong as an ox.
    Dropping to the bed, she chewed on knuckles, stared at the ceiling, and then she caressed her breasts again. She felt how her hair was drawn back in a tight bun. All over she was beautiful.
    What kind of a woman would they get, and then what would happen to her? What did a night’s work like that pay? The world was half men and half women. A woman had to know what to do with