CHAPTER 6

ELEVEN P.M., THE STARHOPE HOTEL.

It had taken me some puzzling over the dollar that Lily had pressed into my hand before I decided that what she'd scribbled on the back was an invitation. But to what?

I stood outside the building, looking up at the windows of Lily's “office” on the second floor, thinking about Gurley Lily, and Lily's bare legs. Would another man be there tonight? Would another interrupt us?

And yes, innocent that I was, I even thought about her advertised business, those careful and correct palm readings: after all that had happened so far, I was more interested than ever in learning my future. Especially if that future included sex.

I apologize: there are certain words a priest can't say, like sex, or the proper names of various parts of the anatomy, or the improper names, or, of course, the full raft of obscenities, carnal and otherwise. I can't say these words not because I lack the nerve, but the audience. These are things people can't hear me say; that's why it's a pleasure to talk to Ronnie now, who apparently can't hear me at all.

Whom else could I tell what it was like to stand outside that hotel, looking up, sweating hormones, the tart, metallic taste of blood from the fight with Gurley only now going stale in my mouth?

Whom else could I tell that of everything I felt, the sharpest feeling was fear?

Damn right I was scared. Scared of Gurley? Maybe I thought that then, but that was a fleeting fear. You can't be scared of a car that loses control on the highway. There's no time, no reason: you just concentrate on staying alive.

No, I was scared of the woman up on the second floor. And it kept me standing on the street right up to, and then after, eleven o'clock. Five after, ten after. I couldn't bring myself to go in, although I decided I would rush ahead if I saw any other man make for the building. But in the meantime, I stood there, rubbing between thumb and forefinger the magic dollar Lily had given me, wondering as I did so what crime I might have already committed and what crimes I might soon commit.

Here was the problem. Lily was a woman, a spit-in-the-eye-of-God occultist (the distance between palm reading and worshiping idols seemed shorter in my youth), a siren-she was all this, yes, but what consumed me was that Lily was Japanese. And while that didn't automatically make her a spy, everything else did: her presence here, in Alaska, when all other Japanese had been sent to camps; this strange building; her dark office; Gurley's mysterious arrival; the dollar she'd given me-and, of course, the fact that she was supposedly a palm reader. She made no secret that she dealt in secrets.

“Boo,” came a voice from behind me, and I must have leapt in the air, straight up, several inches, with my heart going faster and higher. “Don't turn around,” said the voice, which was doing a fair impression of a movie hoodlum until it broke down laughing. “Boo,” the voice said again between laughs, and I turned around to find Lily, grinning so broadly she couldn't see.

“Hello,” I said, using the biggest, most adult soldier voice I could manage. Lily imitated me-not very well, I thought, but she also found this funny, and laughed until I at least started to smile.

But when she finally caught her breath and focused, she stopped laughing altogether.

“What happened to you?” she asked. She started to extend a hand to the bruises on my face, and if she'd actually touched them, I would have counted the battle with Gurley as well worth the pain. But she stopped short, just inches from my skin. There was that kind of buzzing that comes just before a first kiss-yes, I know about these things, or knew-and I couldn't say anything, do anything. She'd immobilized me faster than Gurley, and panicked me just the same.

“I have to go,” I said, and then started to back away.

“I should have warned you,” she said, and my heart stopped beating while it waited to see if the next word out of her mouth would be Gurley. “ Anchorage can be a bit rough on a new kid in town.” She waited for me to answer, but I could only shrug. “ Fourth Avenue, I'm guessing? I mean, you don't need to be a mind reader to see what happened to you. Bar fight-some sailors, likely, they're usually pretty pissed by the time they come ashore in Anchorage.” She wrinkled her nose and started smiling again. “So I feel kinda bad. Sending you off to wander half the night. A kid like you.”

She'd won me over again until she came out with that kid.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I really do-have to go. I shouldn't have-”

“Not so fast, soldier,” she said, stepping after me with surprising speed. “You owe me something?”

“I-I don't owe you anything-I left before-”

“You left carrying something of mine. Something like-a dollar.” She waited for a response. “You think I'm a magician and a palm reader? I smack my palms together and the money comes out? Let's have it.” Her hand darted to my side. I felt something and then nothing, like a mouse had scurried into my pocket and then- pop-disappeared. She held up the dollar: “And I got another problem, sailor. What time is it?”

“Soldier,” I said.

“You're late. Note said eleven, didn't it?” She followed this with a friendly, weary frown, as if we always argued like this. Then she started inside.

“I'm not sure I should go in there,” my voice higher, age lower.

Lily just looked at me. “I think you should,” she said. “Seems pretty clear you're not safe on the streets,” she added, and then smiled. “Besides, how else are you going to get your wallet back?”

UPSTAIRS, ALL WAS it had been before. The door was ajar, the single bulb still burned overhead. Still no furniture, still the pile of blankets in one corner of the room. My wallet hit me in the chest as I crossed the threshold. I fumbled and it fell. As I bent down to pick it up, I saw Lily seated on the floor, back against the wall, studying her hands, studiously not watching me.

“I'm feeling a little bad about taking my dollar back,” Lily said, still not looking up. Then she rubbed her hands together and put them flat on the floor beside her. “Why do you carry that wallet anyway? There's almost nothing in it. Somebody jump you a block before?”

“I just got here, I guess,” I said, my mind spooning out words almost at random, since the whole of me was preoccupied with the situation: I am in a room, all by myself, with a woman, with a Japanese woman, and we are at war with Japan, and I am an American soldier, and I've never slept with a woman, from Japan or anywhere else, and-

“Just got here'?” Lily said. “C'mon, sit down. Either your brain isn't hooked up to your mouth, or you don't have a brain, or you're just not telling the truth. Let's find out.” She patted the floor next to her. I didn't move. “ ‘Palm reader,’ right?” she asked. “This is what you came about?”

I finally spoke up. “Listen, I've got some questions, okay? I mean, up front?”

“That's what this all about, sailor,” Lily said.

“Soldier,” I said.

“Well, we'll see about that,” Lily said, patting the floor beside her again. “Sit, young man.” She was smiling once more.

“What?” I said. But it was useless. I was already starting to sit. Doing so was a bit painful, but not as much as I'd expected. Either my bruises were fading rapidly, or my mind was too occupied with Lily to register pain.

Lily wiped her palms on her knees. “Let's start with names. What's yours?”

I paused. “Harry,” I said. “Harry… Crosby.” I couldn't give her my real name.

She looked at me, waited, and then said, “And how is Bing?” She smiled. “With a brother that famous, I can see why you go under a secret name like ‘Belk.’” She pointed to the name strip on my pocket. I closed my eyes. “Just what are you so nervous about, Soldier Belk?” she asked softly.