"Shall I call Tony?" asked Evelyn.
"Sure," answered Pearl. "The sooner the better."
"You better call several cars for this mob," said Pearl.
"How many of them are there?" asked Evelyn, as she picked up the phone.
"I don't know, but you better call about five or six cars, maybe seven—there's some people out in the yard, and it's too dark to see how many there are."
"Hello, Tony—this is Ev—well, look—we want you to send some transportation out to Mickey's for the party that is moving to the Hussman—you knew that there was a party going on, didn't you? Well, I guess there wasn't anyone who didn't—come right on out—O. K.—good-bye," as she hung up. "They will be here right away."
The cars soon began to arrive, the drivers were taken in and made to drink whether they wanted to or not, and there were none who didn't want to. Seven cars were little enough—people were hanging all over the outsides of the cars, screaming and singing, some fully dressed, others partially dressed, others with only a street coat and shoes on.
They arrived at the Hussman—the bellboys were rushing around madly, expecting at least to earn some tips, which they did by bringing ice, and ginger ale to the room, the crowd unloaded in front of the hotel, each one trying not to look drunk and to be a lady or gentleman, until they got through the lobby to the elevator—some were helping others, others were staggering it alone. Pearl and Evelyn and Mickey in the lead, with Mickey loaded down with bottles, wrapped in a sheet like it might be soiled laundry, elevators started the mad procession of getting everyone off on the right floor, which became more noisy as the newness of the place began to wear off.
Pearl threw everything wide open, told everybody to make themselves at home, which they were already doing—those who had gotten thirsty on the ride were already in the kitchenette, uncorking bottles. Evelyn sat at the phone, ordering more liquor; Pearl and Harry, locked in each other's arms, oblivious to all that was taking place. Mickey eyeing one of the taxi drivers that the crowd had brought with them, and wondering how much he might have in his pockets, and proceeding to make him drunk enough to find out.
The party grew—other guests who were on the same floor, who were in the mood, joined in the crowd. People were going from one room to another, soon the phone in Pearl's apartment began to ring—the management asked them to be just a little more quiet, as they were annoying guests five floors away. The crowd was quiet at least three minutes, when it began all over again, in all its flamboyancy—drinking began to get heavier, some of the crowd began to pass out wherever they happened to be—that's where they lay.