Lefty walked to the front of the tent, unloosened one of the flaps and threw it back to allow the air to come in. “You’re crazy, man!” he said, completely dismissing the entire wild idea from his mind.
“Crazy?” Panama repeated, laughing cruelly. “Listen, picture yourself out in that moonlight in the shadow of the old Mission with a lot of greasers singin’ lovesick ballads and the big, silver moon shinin’ down on you with Elinor by your side and you——”
“For God’s sake, will you shut up?” the nerve-wracked boy screamed, no longer able to control his burning emotions.
“What’s the matter with you, anyway?” Panama asked, not aware of his friend’s reason for refusing his request.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Lefty announced. “It’s you and your half-baked ideas! You’re out of your mind!”
The sergeant’s face darkened as a cloud of disappointment overshadowed his confident smile. “You mean, you won’t?”
“I can’t!” Phelps interrupted, striving to hide his true feelings. “I can’t do it and I won’t! If you want the girl, go ask her yourself!”
Panama rose and pulled at the boy’s jumper in a determined fashion, completely deaf to his protestations. “Aw, come on. Get them clothes off. You’ll know what to say. I ain’t ever had no education or dealin’s with decent women!”
Lefty swung about and faced his friend. His eyes were filled with a mingled look of fear and anxiety. “I can’t ask her that! Don’t you see, I can’t?”
“But you gotta, kid! You’ll know what to say! Your book learnin’ will help. Don’t flop me, will ya?”