“You tell me. I dunno.”
“She came in here with a lot of bounce the other day. Brought me some new pajamas. Shocking pink. Helleroos. Acted like she used to before—”
“Before what?”
“Oh, you weren’t here. And the family thought it’d be best not to tell you. She had a terrible case on a clarinet player. Guy in Sox Sykes’ band. Me—I thought he was oke.
College lad from the East. Good family. But bughouse on playing in a band and having a band of his own.”
“Anything wrong with that?”
Biff shrugged. “Ask Mom. She knows two thousand things wrong.” He opened his mouth to add more and closed it with decision.
Jimmie rose, uncomfortably. “Well, son, gotta go—”
“Yeah. Come back.” Biff seemed to be searching his mind for something that would hold his elder brother. “You do a lot of thinking, when you have this kind of time to lie around in. You know what was the trouble with me?”
Jimmie leaned on the rolling bed table. “No. What was?”