Loretta smiled. Her eyes stayed on Kerrigan as she murmured, “No, don’t do that.”
“You dare me?” Dora screeched.
“Sure she dares you,” Channing said. “Can’t you see she’s looking for trouble?”
“Well, sure as hell she’s gonna get it,” Dora stated. “When I’m with a man I don’t want no floozie buttin’ in.”
Loretta looked at the skinny hag. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right. I’m very sorry.” She backed away from Dora and then turned and walked toward the bar.
But Dora wasn’t satisfied. Dora yelled, “You don’t get off that easy, you tramp.” She lowered her head and went lunging across the room. At the last moment Loretta stepped to one side and Dora collided with the bar and bounced back and landed flat on the floor. She rolled over on her side, tried to get up, and tripped over her own legs and went down again. She made another attempt to rise, managed to get on her feet, and saw Loretta standing with hands on hips, waiting for her. There was something in Loretta’s eyes that told Dora to think in terms of personal safety.
As Dora backed away from Loretta, the humpbacked wino let out a quiet laugh of disdain. Dora whirled on the wino and began to blast him with a stream of curses. Loretta turned away from them and told Dugan she wanted whisky. At the table, Frieda was telling Channing that he ought to get himself a wife and settle down. She began to speak in low tones, discussing the various benefits to matrimony. Channing had turned in his chair to face her and give her his undivided attention. Frieda declared that every man needed a woman to live with, that in order to preserve one’s health it was necessary to lead a wholesome domestic life. Channing agreed with her. He said he was definitely in favor of a wholesome domestic life. He asked Frieda what her age was, and she said forty-three. Channing nodded thoughtfully and then he asked her what she weighed and she said one-seventy. He told her that one-seventy was all right and then he asked her if she knew how to cook. She said no. Channing’s eyes were steady and level on the shapeless hag with orange hair. His voice was serious as he told her that she might as well start learning how to cook.
Kerrigan sat there and listened to it and he was staring at the camera. He heard Frieda saying, “You mean it?” and Channing said, “Yes, Frieda,” and then Frieda said, “Well, I’ll be goddamned.” Kerrigan was trying to drag his eyes away from the camera. He told himself to get up and get out of here. He heard the gin-rusty voice of Frieda as she said, “You mean I’ll actually be your wife and you’ll be my husband?” Without the slightest hesitation, Channing answered, “Absolutely, if that’s what you’d like.” Kerrigan took hold of the table edge and tried to lift himself from the chair, but the lens of the camera had hold of his eyes and he couldn’t move. Frieda was saying, “When do we do it?” and Channing said, “You set the date.”
The legs of Kerrigan’s chair scraped the floor, and then he was up from the table. He looked down at the shapeless hag and said, “Why do you let him tease you?”
Frieda gazed up at him. Her mouth sagged. “Is that what he’s doing?” She turned her head to study Channing’s face. She said, “You just sittin’ here and havin’ fun with me?”