She jumped like I had cut her with a whip. “Is that any of your business?”
“Yeah. Plenty.”
“Here’s your wind wing.”
“Thanks.”
I went out. I had what I wanted. I had socked one in under her guard, and socked it in deep, so it hurt. From now on, it would be business between her and me. She might not say yes, but she woudn’t stall me. She knew what I meant, and she knew I had her number.
That night at supper, the Greek got sore at her for not giving me more fried potatoes. He wanted me to like it there, and not walk out on him like the others had.
“Give a man something to eat.”
“They’re right on the stove. Can’t he help himself?”
“It’s all right. I’m not ready yet.”
He kept at it. If he had had any brains, he would have known there was something back of it, because she wasn’t one to let a guy help himself, I’ll say that for her. But he was dumb, and kept crabbing. It was just the kitchen table, he at one end, she at the other, and me in the middle. I didn’t look at her. But I could see her dress. It was one of these white nurse uniforms, like they all wear, whether they work in a dentist’s office or a bakeshop. It had been clean in the morning, but it was a little bit rumpled now, and mussy. I could smell her.