Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara

Author:John O'Hara [O'Hara, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
Tags: Classics, Fiction
ISBN: 9780099518327
Google: KALzCMwELOUC
Amazon: 0099518325
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2008-04-02T05:00:00+00:00

“What does she call herself?” said Emily Ziegenfuss.

“Helene Holman,” said Dewey Hartenstein.

“Holman? She has a nerve,” said Emily.

“Why so?” said Vic Smith.

“Why, that’s the name of a real singer. Libby Holman. Isn’t that it? Libby? Or Liddy. No, Libby’s right. Yes. Libby Holman. She makes records,” said Emily.

“Well, she has as much right to the name as Libby Holman has,” said Irma Fliegler.

“She has not,” said Emily.

“She has so,” said Irma. “Libby Holman isn’t Libby Holman’s real name.”

“Oh,” said Emily. “Well—how do you know, Irma?”

“Because I have these friends out in Cincinnati, Ohio, or at least they’re friends of Lute’s. Lute?”

“What?” said Lute.

“What was it those friends of yours in Cincinnati, Ohio, remember, they had that meningitis that took away their two children—”

“Spinal meningitis,” said Lute, who had been talking with Willard Doane.

“I know that,” said Irma. “What was their name?”

“Oh, Schultz. Harry Schultz. Why? Shall we call him up and tell him to join the party or what?”

“No, wisecracker. I wanted to know what Libby Holman’s real name was. The singer.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you ask me that in the first place?” said Lute.

“Well, come on, tell us what it was.”

“Fred. Her right name was Fred,” said Lute.

“Oh, bushwah on you,” said Irma. “He never talks like anyone else. Anyhow these friends, these people named Schultz in Cleveland—”

“You just got through telling us it was Cincinnati,” said Emily. “I don’t think—”

“Cincinnati, then. All right, Cincinnati. Whatever city it is this Holman comes from. Anyhow, they came from the same town as her, and they told us her real name.”

“Fred, I guess,” said Emily. “Oh, I don’t believe it. I don’t think you know anything about it, if you ask me.” Emily had had her fourth highball.

“She’s good. I like her singing,” said Frannie Snyder.

“You like it?” said Emily. “You mean you actually can sit there and say you like that kind of a voice? You must be crazy, Frannie.”

“I like it all right,” said Harvey Ziegenfuss.

“Oh, who asked you?” said Emily Ziegenfuss.

“Nobody asked me. Can’t I express my opinions?”

“No. Who asked you for your opinions? Look at her. If she’s going to sing why don’t she sing, and if she’s going to do a hootchy-kootchy dance then why don’t she do it? But at least she ought to make up her mind. She’s like a burlesque show dancer.”

“How do you know what a burlesque show dancer is like?” said Harvey Ziegenfuss.

“How do I know?” said his wife. “You ask me that? You, Harvey Ziegenfuss, ask me that? All right, I’ll tell you. I know because you showed me. When we were first married you used to get me to get undressed one by one, one thing after another. That’s how I know.”

Everyone, except Harvey Ziegenfuss, laughed. “Aw, you’re nuts,” he said. But that only made them laugh a little more.

“Drinks!” shouted Lute Fliegler. “Emily, how ’bout you? Dutch, you’re ready for another. Frannie, you could stand it. Vic, what’s the matter with you? Not drinking?”

“I’m going easy,” said Vic Smith.

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