Free Whom Gods Destroy by Clifton Adams

me about a week to find out that I could make money on the side in bootlegging, as in most other things. When I got a call to a party I could sell them red-stamp stuff for green-stamp prices and, if they were drunk enough, they would never know the difference. And some of the customers would have the runners bring other things out with the whisky—cigarettes, sandwiches, whatever they wanted—and that would always mean a tip.
    But being a runner for a bootlegger was like scrambling for pennies just outside a gold mine. There was no telling how much Seaward was making out of his operations, but it was plenty. I didn't intend to scramble for pennies any longer than I had to, but I couldn't rush into the thing. I had to wait and take my time, and then one day I'd find an angle and work it for all it was worth. In the meantime, there was Lola. There was no way of getting away from her, so I tried to forget her and concentrate on my job. I kept telling myself to take it one thing at a time. After I discovered a way to move in on Seaward's bootlegging business, then there would be plenty of time for other things.
    Then there was Vida. I thought it was all over with Vida after that one night, but I learned pretty soon that Vida wasn't a girl you could think about or not think about, the way you would switch a light off and on. I kept reminding myself that she was Sid's wife, and right now, Sid was a man I couldn't do without. Keep out of her way—was about all I could do.
    I moved into a rooming house on Fourth Street and began to work on the million small details that had to be taken care of before I could make a push against a guy like Seaward. I learned that Seaward and Kingkade were pretty sore about the way I'd taken seven hundred dollars off them in the poker game, especially when they found out that I had hired on with Sid as a common runner. But it didn't bother me. As long as I attended to business and kept my mind off Lola and Vida, I was all right.
    I'd had my hand out of the cast for about two days when I made a routine call to the downtown office and they gave me an order out on West Twenty-first. The place was a tourist court and I had made deliveries there before, so I figured it was just another traveling salesman letting off steam. But when I got there I saw that red convertible of Sid's parked in the garage next to the cabin.
    Well, I figured, maybe Sid's gone to solitary drinking. The order was for Scotch so I got a bottle of Ballentines from under the front seat and went up to the door. I didn't get an answer at first, but I could hear water running inside and I guessed that somebody was taking a shower. Then the water was shut off and I knocked again.
    “Come in.”
    I would have recognized that voice anywhere. It was Vida. When she opened the door and stood there smiling at me, I knew what was going to happen.
    “Come in, Roy.”
    “Are you crazy?” I said. “That red convertible can be spotted clear to the highway!”
    “There are a lot of red convertibles. But I'll come in a cab the next time, if it bothers you.”
    She wore a long white terry-cloth robe that covered her completely from her throat to the floor. Her hair hung even straighter than I remembered it, and the ends were damp where she had missed getting it inside her shower cap.
    “While I waited for you to get here,” she said, “I took a cold shower. I've taken a lot of cold showers, Roy. They're overrated.”
    She came toward me, floating almost, inside the loose folds of the robe. I reached out for her and only then did I realize how much I wanted her. How much I had missed her. I put my mouth on hers and we stood there for a long time. Finally she said, “Roy?”
    “Yes?” I touched her hair. It was amazingly soft.
    “You're not mixed up this time, are you?”
    “No. I'm not mixed up at all.”
    A strange thing happened then. I began pulling at the robe and it loosened. I put my hand inside and caressed the cool curve of her