The Contender by Robert Lipsyte

Author:Robert Lipsyte
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1967-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

11

MAJOR SAW HIM FIRST. “There’s the champ.”

“Hey, champ,” said Sonny.

“It’s my main man, Alfred,” said Major, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him down into the darkened clubroom. “What’s your drink, brother?”

“I’m in training,” said Alfred. A single red bulb shone over the spinning record player. He squinted at the shadowy figures in the room, some dancing, others sprawled on floor pillows. “Where’s James?”

“He’ll be by. Wine?”

“No, thanks.”

“Take a night off, man, you’re in shape. Gotta have some kicks.”

Major’s girl, June, came out of the shadows. “You come alone, Alfred?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said, linking her arm in his. “Got somebody I want you to meet.”

“Can’t stay long.”

“Wait till you meet her.” She led him across the floor, weaving among the dancers, stepping over couples whispering and necking. She lit a match, and a dark, chubby girl with a curly, blond wig and thick, pink lipstick smiled up at Alfred.

“This is Arlene,” said June. The match went out, and June let his arm go.

“I’m Alfred Brooks.”

“Hi.”

“Dance?”

He was surprised at how easily she came into his arms, so close that the strong, sweet smell of her perfume made him dizzy in the heat of the crowded room. The music was low, funky blues, and he swayed to it.

“You live near here?”

She shook her head, and the stiff hairs of the wig brushed his nose. “I’m visiting June. She’s my cousin.”

Major came around with the wine bottle, and Arlene drank from it. Alfred pushed it away, twice, when Major pressed it against his chest. Then he came back with half an orange soaked in vodka.

“This is good for you, man.”

Why not, Alfred thought. He sucked on it, feeling new heat rise out of his empty stomach into his head. The party became a blur, a sweet, sticky blur. Major left the wine bottle with him, and Alfred and Arlene danced into a corner. Someone began pounding conga drums.

Hollis swam by, and punched his arm. “Good to see ya, Alfred.”

“Yeah. James come in?”

“Not yet.”

“You sure he’s coming?”

Hollis patted a jacket pocket. “You can be sure he’s coming.”

“Who’s James?” asked Arlene.

“A guy I know,” said Alfred. “Let’s sit down awhile.”

Someone began passing a cigarette around, and the way everyone dragged on it he knew it was marijuana. Alfred shook his head when Arlene put it between his lips.

“It’ll relax you, honey,” she said, stroking the back of his neck, and he inhaled.

The red bulb burned out, and it was pitch-dark in the clubroom. The wine bottles kept coming around, and the cigarettes. Except for soft laughter, the music covered all sound in the room. Like a nice dark movie, he thought. He took longer pulls on the bottle, and deeper drags on the cigarette to keep the warm, soft feeling in his head. Once the door opened for some newcomers, and he saw Arlene smiling up at him, her face puffy, the blond wig tipped over one eye.

At dawn, an invisible fist slammed into his stomach, and he barely made it out to the alley.

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