He went in and she stepped aside and then closed the door behind him. The chain went on again. Few women were taking chances these days, even if a man was with them.
Dolly Mason, he saw, was practically ready for action. Her otherwise bare little feet were in mules and she wore a thin silk kimono, brilliant red, with obviously nothing at all—except Dolly—underneath it. But he was too desperately worried to be interested. Business came first, right now. Of course if he got enough money from her to end his worries for tonight, then he could relax and romp.
"Dolly," he blurted, "I'm in a jam, a hell of a jam. Life or death, almost. I need to borrow some money—just for a week or so. Have you got any?"
She took a short step back from him; she'd been going toward him to put her arms around him as she always did when he came in. "Honey, I haven't got any money. Where did you get a wild idea like that?" She looked toward a handbag lying on an end table by the sofa. "I've got just eight dollars—and I can't spare any of that because it's got to last me till payday, three days. Look, I'll show you if you don't believe me."
She started toward the handbag but he said, "Never mind, I believe you. I didn't mean that kind of money anyway. And cash doesn't matter. A check will do because I can cash it tomorrow and that'll be in time, because tomorrow night's my deadline. And you'll make money on it—not lose. If you can lend me five hundred I'll give you back six, in two weeks. That's how God damn important it—"
Suddenly she was laughing. Not a cruel laugh, but an amused one. "Ray honey, I haven't got a bank account, not even a savings account, let alone a checking one. I'm sorry if you're in trouble, but what made you think I had any money? Honest, I haven't."
Ray Fleck took a step backward and dropped onto the sofa, put his elbows on his knees and his face into his hands. He was beat. He hadn't realized until this moment how much he'd been counting on Dolly—and how ridiculous it had been for him to have done so. He didn't know whether or not Dolly was lying about not having a bank account, but he knew, and for sure, that even if she had she wasn't going to lend him any money. Not even fifty bucks that he might manage to run up in the poker game, let alone the five hundred that it would take to bail him out of trouble. She didn't trust him that much and it wouldn't do any good to plead, to offer her a thousand back instead of six hundred. Even if she had a checking account, she'd never admit now that she'd been lying and write him a check against it.
"Ray honey, I'm sorry. Honest."
He took his hands away from his face, stared at her dully. "It's all right, Dolly. I shouldn't have—" He shook his head slowly. He'd started to say that he'd been a damn fool to expect anything but this, but there wasn't any point in finishing the sentence. The only thing to do now was to get going, go some place where he could think, and try to figure something out. He knew there wasn't an earthly chance that he could raise the four-eighty tonight, but if he didn't waste time he might still build back his stake enough to let him sit in tonight's game. His luck had to change sometime.
"Ray, you do look beat," Dolly said. "Would a drink help? Let me make you a drink."