Sam picked it up and studied it carefully. After a little while he handed it back. “No,” he said, “that don’t mean anything to me. There’s plenty of money in that list. I’d say at a guess that little lot’s worth a million each. They all belong to the hot set, but that’s all I get from it.”
Duffy put the note-book back in his pocket. “Maybe I’ll get a line on it later,” he said.
The waiter brought the rum and set it down on the table with a crisp bang. Sam said, “This joint’s changed.”
The waiter glanced at him. “Buddy,” he said, “it’s early yet.”
Sam turned to Duffy. “See?” he said; “it’s early.”
“Okay, it’s early. Let’s grab a couple of girls, and show them how it’s done.”
There was no one dancing on the floor. Sam poured himself out a shot of rum and drank it hurriedly. “Heck!” he said, “I believe I’m nervous.”
Duffy looked at him. “You’re kidding yourself, you want to get stewed.”
Sam got up from his chair and wandered across the room to the pen. He stood looking at each girl carefully, until they began to giggle at him. He found a blonde that pleased him and he began to rush her round the empty floor. Duffy picked his girl from where he was sitting, then he went over and dated her up. She was a chestnut red, with a pert little nose and a big, humorous smile. She had a plump, hard little belly that he could feel against his vest. He thought she was cute.
Duffy could dance when he liked, and the rum had made him fairly happy. He swung her round in big smooth circles, and she just seemed to float with him. They didn’t say a word through the dance, but when the band cut out, he said, “You’re good.”