their minds—they always said, ‘A new country, a new name. Make a break with the past.’ You know what I mean.”
Port said, “Oh,” and crossed his legs. He turned to Lantek. “I need a man to head up a team collecting signatures. Can you spare him?” He nodded at the new man.
“Sure,” said Lantek. “But he’s new. I can get you Cholly—or how about Tim, if it’s really important. I been keeping my eye on Tim for a while now, and the way I see it . . .”
“Look,” Port sounded resigned. “We fix men up with jobs all the time. We do it all over the city and with some of the county jobs.” Then Port sat up, talking more clearly, “But we don’t horse around like that with jobs in the organization! Try to remember that.” He looked back at the new man.
“Here’s what it is, Ramon.” He handed Ramon a typed sheet of paper. “It’s a questionnaire. Have that mimeographed and then get twenty men from Lantek to make the rounds. It says yes and no, behind the answers. They should all be marked. On the bottom I want signatures. Real, original signatures. Okay with you, Lantek?”
“Sure, Danny, sure.”
“Hand them out tonight, starting at six, and have them ready for me here at nine in the morning. Okay, Ramon?”
“Sure thing, Danny. I’ll start now.”
“Have the mimeograph done by Schuster, on Lane Street and Scranton. Know where that is?”
Ramon was so anxious to say yes, he started to stutter. He didn’t know where the place was.
“I’m driving by there,” said Port. “Come along.”
Port told Lantek to line up twenty men for six sharp, and left with Ramon. When they got to Port’s car Ramon hadn’t stopped talking once. He apologized for being new, he was grateful for being given, the chance, he would do all he could, and when they got to the car he started admiring that. “And back here,” he said, walking around to the trunk, “what lines, what antennas! You know something, Dan? I’ve lived in California. Did you ever see those boats they have, those boats they rig up for tuna fishing? These antennas here . . .”
“Is that so?” said Port. Then he offered Ramon a cigarette. “Come on across the street. I’ll buy you a coffee.”
They went into the short-order place with the grocery counter in front and sat down near the grill. Then they waited for someone to show.
“You know why I picked you?” said Port.
Ramon shook his head.
“Because you’re eager.”
“I am, Dan. I think this town has opportunities. What I mean is, I can really do something for this—in this club, because when I have half a chance . . .”
“I know,” said Port. “I know what you got in mind.”
“With half a chance . . .”
“Sure, Ramon. I use you and you try the same with me and we both win. That what you mean?”
“I don’t really mean . . .”
“Ramon, listen. I’m in a hurry, and you’re eager. That’s why I picked you, and you like it for your own reasons. Okay? Don’t bring it up again.”
Ramon didn’t answer, just nodded his head.
“Now listen close,” said Port. “Here’s the rest of the deal.”
“About the mimeographing?”
“After the mimeographing. This is something else.”
Ramon got very attentive but Port didn’t say anything else. He watched the waitress come in from the back, seeing the red carnation before he had seen her face. She put a soup pot on the grill. When she recognized Port her face stayed as bland as he remembered it from the street. Then she smiled, and it was an easy smile which changed her face in a beautiful way. “Nino,” she said. “You didn’t come home last night.” Then she got two cups of coffee without asking.
“I’m five years older than she is,” said Ramon, “and she still calls me Nino.”
“Yeah,” said Port. He picked up his coffee, burned his mouth, because he wasn’t used to drinking it hot.
“Meet my sister,” said Ramon, and to her, “this is Daniel Port.”
She smiled again, but less than before, and said, “How are you? You look better today.”
“Thank you,” said Port. “You look the same. It’s hard improving on you.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, giving a half-smile, and went to the grill to set the soup into the steam table.
“You know each other?” asked Ramon.
“No,” she said. “We just met on the street.”
“I asked her the time,” said Port.
Ramon nodded and drank his coffee. He watched his sister and he tried watching Port, but he couldn’t tell a thing. If they knew each other they didn’t show a thing. It might be nice if they did. There would be no harm done, if Port would show interest.
“Finish up and we’ll go,” said Port. He put thirty cents on the counter and got up.
“You were going to tell me something else,” said Ramon. “Some other deal you had in mind.”
Port waved at Ramon’s sister and said, “See you again.” She smiled and nodded. You could make of it what you wanted.
Outside, Port crossed the street to his car and got behind the wheel. Ramon sat next to him. Port started the car.
“You never told me her name,” he said. “I’m sure it can’t be anything like Dolores or Carmen.”
“Her name is Shelly.” Ramon looked out the window. “You like Shelly?”
“It’s better than Calvin,” said Port.
Chapter Five
RAMON came back to the club at eight the next morning. He pushed the front door open with one shoulder, because he was carrying the questionnaires with both hands. In the front hall he put the stack on the counter of the cloak room and took a deep breath. He felt like sitting down; he wanted a cup of hot coffee and afterwards some sleep. The job had been more work than he’d figured. It had taken all night. There were only three questions with only a “yes” or “no” answer, but it had taken all night to tally them up. Shelly had come into the kitchen twice and offered to help him. He had told her to go back to bed, the job was too important.
Ramon stood behind the counter and stacked the sheets. Then he went to the bar and found a carton with empty whisky bottles. He put the bottles on the floor, took the carton and put the stacked sheets inside it.
At eight-thirty Lantek came in. He nodded at
