“No, honestly. I’ve wondered. Women can be so much more understanding.”
Three people came up to the bar and ordered drinks. They stood close to Harry and the girl. One of them was a tall, flat-chested girl with a serious expression on her face. She wore heavy, horn-rim glasses. The other two were middle-aged men.
One of the men said, “Manuel, you’re looking pretty good tonight.”
Manuel pushed a bottle of Canadian Rye across the polished wood. He said: “Yes, sir, I’m feeling pretty good. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
The man turned to the serious-looking girl. “I like this place. They give you the bottle and let you get tight, fast or slow, just as you feel. There’s no waiting to be served.”
The serious-looking girl said: “That’s fine, because I want to get tight very fast tonight.”
Harry said: “Let’s go. I can’t talk to you here. Let’s go back to the apartment.”
She shook her head. “No, not tonight. I’m feeling nervy. We should only quarrel. Not tonight.”
He hid his disappointment. “Well, let’s go, anyway. I’ll see you home.”
He gave Manuel some money and she smiled at him. “Your drink’s been a big success. Mr. Garner says you’re a genius.”