Free The Amboy Dukes by Irving Shulman Page A

use one.”
    “I hope not.”
    “Don’t you believe me?”
    “Sure.”
    “You don’t. And what the hell am I talking to you for anyway? You guys make me sick. That’s why we never come around here. You’re always trying to make us reform. What the hell have I got to reform for? I haven’t done anything!”
    Stan took a buttonhook out of his pocket and tightened the laces of his basketball. “If you haven’t done anything, Frank,” he said, “then why are you giving me an argument?”
    Frank sat on the bench and stared across the gym. “You’re a pretty nice guy, Mr. Alberg, but you still give me a pain.”
    “Everyone’s entitled to his opinion, Frank. Listen”—he turned to him—“you’re not a dope. Why don’t you get smartened up? Give me the gun.”
    Frank stood up and backed away from him. “No! And I’m warning you, don’t rat to the cops if you want to stay healthy.”
    “You’ll take me for a ride?”
    Frank picked up his hat and books. “Don’t think it’s funny. I’m just telling you.”
    “I heard you. And any time you want to get rid of that gun you can come down here and I’ll take it. That’ll always be a good alibi for you.”
    “Thanks for nothing.”
    “You’re welcome. When’ll I see you around?”
    “Never.”
    “Come back whenever you like.” Stan ignored the reply. “And if you want to come over to the house some evening just let me know. We always have some good cake around.”
    Without answering him Frank went back to the weaving room for Alice. Walking along Bristol Street with her toward Pitkin Avenue and over to Davidson’s Restaurant, he was silent. Mr. Alberg had disturbed him. Maybe he was right about the gun. Hell, he never used it, and the thought of using it made him shudder. He didn’t even like the idea of using a knife on a guy, and when he thought of Crazy cutting the spick the night before, he—well, he didn’t like the idea of being a Duke. And now he had another worry on his head, because Black Benny had told him in the morning that he’d better watch out for Crazy, for Crazy was the kind of a guy who didn’t come right back at you. Crazy just saved it up for a long time, and when you were least expecting it, zingo, he would sneak up and get in his innings. But still he didn’t need to carry the gun. If Crazy came at him, a milk bottle or a brick would be all he’d need to polish off the bastard. The sooner he ditched the gun, the better.
    “I want to stop in the house for a minute, Alice,” he said to her. “You wait downstairs for me.”
    “I’ll come upstairs and wash my hands.”
    “All right.” There was no point in making her suspicious. “But hurry up. I’ve got a date tonight.”
    “Can’t you break it?” She looked back at him as they climbed the narrow tenement stairs. “I’m lonesome.”
    “Tomorrow night, baby. You wouldn’t want me to give the girl a stand-up, would you? When you get older you’ll know what I mean.”
    “Is she pretty?”
    “Not as pretty as you’ll be when you grow up. Come on, open the door.”
    While she was in the bathroom he hastily placed the gun in the box and stuffed it back in his drawer. Now he was relieved. But he wouldn’t tell Benny or the other guys because they would think he was getting soft, and a guy who was soft didn’t rate with the Dukes.
     
    The girls were waiting for them on the corner as they coasted the car to the curb, and Frank’s eyes were happy when he saw Betty again. For she was as pretty and exciting as she had been the day before, and when she sat next to him and he put his arm around her she moved close to him, and his hand rested at the open V of her yellow blouse. Her fingers were slim and cool, and he felt wise and strong as he grasped her hand and pressed it gently. The car raced along Kings Highway, and he tilted Betty’s head back and kissed her, a long lingering kiss to which she responded as his hand slid into her blouse.
    “Gee,” he