Solomon's Vineyard Read Online Free Page A

I was having at least two of them.
    “How about another bottle of champagne?” I asked.
    “Why spoil good brandy?” Ginger said.
    We drank about half the bottle of brandy. The big party at the table
near the bar-room door kept getting noisier. The liquor didn't seem to
affect Ginger, but she got a little more sociable. She told me she'd
worked in the chorus at Harry's New York Bar in Chicago, and then had
sung at a Chinese joint on the North Side. She'd also done a little
radio singing. Her face wasn't sullen when she was talking about her
work. She was really interested in singing.
    “Ever think of the movies?” I asked.
    “Don't pull that,” she said. “I used to work in Hollywood,” I said.
“When do you want me to start taking my clothes off?” she asked.
    “The hell with it,” I said. “I was just making conversation.”
    “I'd rather dance.”
    I said “Okay.” I put a dime in the box and we danced again. She
danced close to me, her body flat against mine, but I had a feeling
there was nothing personal in it. I liked it anyway; her body was so
young. When we got back to the table I asked if there was gambling in
the place. “Craps,” she said. “In the back.”
    “Let's try our luck.”
    “All right.”
    We went across the bar and then through a big dining-room with a
dance floor. There was a raised place for a band. “They open this next
week,” Ginger said. Back of the floor was a door. We went through that
into a room with thick green carpet and green drapes pulled close over
the windows. There was a crap table and six slot machines. One of the
slot machines was for silver dollars. I hadn't seen one that big since
Reno. I put a dollar in it and pulled the crank. A lemon showed. A dark
man with a green visor came into the room. He looked at us
questioningly. I gave Ginger a twenty-dollar bill.
    “Try your luck,” I told her.
    She was surprised at the bill. “I don't get you,” she said. “No?”
    “No,” she said. “You talk like a drummer for ladies' hosiery, with
your Hollywood stuff. But you don't act it.”
    “Don't let it worry you, beautiful,” I said.
    She got a double handful of silver dollars for the bill. Then the
dark man gave her some dice. “Let's see,” I said. I took the dice and
gave them a couple of rolls and then I held them up to the light. They
were all right.
    “We run a square game,” the dark man said.
    “Thanks for telling me,” I said.
    Ginger did all right. She made three points before she crapped out. I
won ten bucks on a come bet, but when I tried the dice I threw snake
eyes, a ten and a seven in three rolls. I was very cold. As Ginger
started to roll again, the chief's party came in and began to play too.
The dark man gave them silver dollars. One of the women called him
Dave. They all looked curiously at Ginger and me. The two women were
still hanging on to the fat chief. He was drunk and his face was bright
red and he seemed to have a lot of money He kept forking it out in
twenties to the gals, not caring how much they lost. Once I saw one of
them, a dark-haired woman about thirty, slip a twenty between her
breasts. She saw me watching her and smiled, and I turned back to
Ginger. She'd just lost the dice. The chief was reaching out for them,
but I got there first.
    “My turn,” I said.
    He looked at me, but he didn't recognize me. He was too drunk.
CHAPTER THREE
    THE CRAP game began to grow. Another couple joined it, the man
tossing out quarters, and a few minutes later a sour-looking guy in a
double-breasted blue suit wandered into the room. He watched for a
while and then he began to play, acting as though he was dubious about
the game. His face was freshly shaved and powdered, but blue-black
stubble showed on his jaws. He looked like a Greek. I figured he worked
for the house, but it was all right. Ginger was so hot it didn't matter
who was in the game.
    She had the dice. When she shook them her body