Part 9

We were getting ready for bed. I had a nice granny nightgown, down to the ankles, and Joe had a pare of striped pajamas that we both could have fit into. I insisted on Joe taking the upper bunk. I didn't want him--er, sleepwalking.

The aisles were filled with girls in various states of dress and undress. I saw more lingerie in those few minutes than I had in my previous three incarnations. Pity it didn't do anything for me, except make me envious of some of the ensembles. For Joe, though...

He was like the young sultan, regally reclining, and greeting his harem as it swirled around him. "Good night, Mary Lou. Dolores dear, sleep tight. Nighty-night, Emily."

Emily called back brightly, "Toodle-oo," as she climbed up into her berth.

Joe growled. "Oo, how about that toodle-oo?"

"Steady boy. Just keep telling yourself that you're a girl." I admonished.

I heard him muttering. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl." Two more shimmied past. "Get a load of that rhythm section." I glared, and he sighed. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I'm a girl. Good night, Sugar!"

I followed the direction of his eyes. All you could see was a pair of legs hanging out of an upper berth while the girl removed her stockings, but that was all you needed to see for a positive ID. Sugar stuck her head out, smiling, "Good night, honey."

Joe grinned sappily. "Honey. She called me honey." I'd seen that look before. Without another word I removed the ladder he'd used to climb into his upper berth and slid it under my lower bunk. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"I want to make sure that honey stays in the hive. There'll be no buzzing around tonight."

He complained. "But suppose I gotta go for a--erm... drink of water?"

"Fight it."

"But suppose I lose?"

I pointed at the brake cord. "Then pull the emergency brake." I had watched Sweet Sue and Bienstock, at the other end of the car, on opposite sides of the aisle, watching us, and whispering together. I hissed, "They're suspicious about something already. We can't take any chances."

Bienstock clapped his hands. "Everybody settle down and go to bed. Good night, girls."

Everyone started to climb into bed, close curtains, turn off lights. "Good night, Josephine."

He sighed as I closed the curtains. "Good night, Daphne." As I lay down, I could hear him muttering. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I wish I was dead. I'm a girl. I'm a girl..."

I lay down and drifted off to sleep. I should have known better. I knew Joe couldn't get down from the berth without my knowing it. It never occured to me that someone would climb up and join him.

Apparently a little while later, Sugar sneaked down the aisle. Finding no ladder, she borrowed one from across the aisle, and climbed up. She'd come to thank 'Josephine' for sticking up for her. Joe was so startled that he banged his head sitting up. Well, it IS a little startling when you suddenly find that your wet dream seems to be coming true.

(Oh, in case you're wondering how I know all this since I was snoozing away, Joe told me after the honeymoon. Which honeymoon? Never mind. We'll get to that in due course.)

Sugar said, "If it hadn't been for you, they would have kicked me off the train. I'd be out there in the middle of nowhere, sitting on my ukelele."

Joe sympathized. "It must me freezing out there. When I think of you and your poor ukelele..."

"If there's anything I can do for you..."

Was there ever a more loaded offer in the history of the world? I know Joe smirked when he said, "Oh, I can think of a million things." She suddenly climbed all the way up into the berth. "And that's one of them."

"Ssh. Sweet Sue." Throught the slit in the curtains, Joe saw Sue pad up toward the Ladies' Room. "I don't want her to know we're in cahoots."

"We won't tell anyone. Not even Daphne."

"I'd better stay here till she goes back to sleep."

"Stay as long as you like."

Sugar slid under the covers. "I'm not crowding you, am I?"

"No." I figure Joe started to sweat right about her. "It's nice and cozy."

"When I was a little girl, on cold nights like this, I used to crawl into bed with my sister. We'd cuddle up under the covers, and pretend we were lost in a dark cave, and were trying to find out way out. Say, you're getting flushed. Is anything wrong? Oh, you poor thing! You're trembling all over." She touched his forehead. "And your head is hot, but your feet are cold. Let me warm them up a little." She rubbed her feet vigorously against Joe's. "There. Isn't that better?"

Joe started chanting again. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl."

"What's that?"

"I'm a very sick girl."

"Maybe I should go before I catch something."

"I'm not that sick!"

"I have a very low resistance," Sugar explained.

I can see Joe's eyes lighting up now. "You know Sugar, if you feel you're coming down with something, the best thing is a shot of whiskey. I know where to get some. Don't move." He climbed over her (it's a wonder he ever made it across, Joe never was much of a mountain climber, and the urge to rest in the valley between Sugar's twin peaks must have been monumental), opened the curtain, and leaned out and down, toward my berth, where I was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Stop laughing!

He rummaged in the suitcase I had at the foot of the berth and found our bottle. But he leaned just a little too far and slipped. Lucky for him he landed in the aisle and not on top of me. I would have been so mad at him risking our necks that I would have performed the first sex change operation in America by removing his equipment with my bare hands.

Sugar whispered,"Are you all right?"

He whispered back. "I'm okay."

"How's the bottle?" Sugar was a girl with firm priorities.

"Half full."

Joe might have gotten away with it, but his fall had alerted Dolores in Number Four, and she peered out to see him going to the drinking fountain for cups. Joe didn't notice, scurrying back up into his berth. "I tell you, this is the only way to travel."

As Sugar poured, she said, "You better put on the lights. I can't see what I'm doing."

Joe was vehement. "No lights! We don't want anyone to know we're having a party."

"But I may spill something."

"So spill it! Spills, thrills, laughs, games..." I can picture the smirk. "This may even turn out to be a surprise party."

Sugar lit up like a little girl. "What surprise?"

"Uh uh, not yet. We better have a drink first."

Sugar handed over a cup of whiskey. "Here. This'll put hair on your chest."

"No fair guessing."

Just as they drank, Dolores poked her head in and chirped, "This a private clambake, or can anybody join?"

Joe started to shoo her away, but Sugar said, "Hey Dolores, you still got that bottle of vermouth?" When Dolores nodded, she said, "We have bourbon, let's make Manhattans." As Dolores started down the ladder, she added, "And bring the cocktail shaker."

When Dolores went for the vermouth, MaryLou in the lower berth woke up. "What's up?" she yawned.

"Party in upper seven."

MaryLou perked up. "I got some cheese and crackers. Need a corkscrew?"

"Yeah."

"I know where I can get one." She went across the aisle and woke up Rosella. "Party in upper seven. Lemme have the corkscrew."

Rosella climbed out, interested. "I don't have it. I loaned it to Stella. I'll get more cups."

Soon the whole car except Sweet Sue, the manager, and me, were sneaking into upper seven for the party. Now, normally, this would have been hog heaven for Jerry: about a dozen girls crammed with him into space meant for, at most, two. But, he had designs on Sugar, and the other girls were in the way. He tried to shoo them out, but everyone was having too good a time.

Olga brought the cocktail shaker, which turned out to be a hot water bottle. Someone else brought Southern Comfort. I wish I'D been invited. The parties I end up at are usually smaller, and duller. Sugar started mixing Manhattans. The girls were passing around cheese, crackers, peanut butter and salami.

You may be wondering what I was doing while this was going on. I was sleeping. Yes, through all that. I'm a great neighbor to have if you like your music loud. I can sleep through almost anything. I couldn't sleep through Emily reaching down and shaking me, though. Nothing will wake you up like someone asking if you have any maraschino cherries on you. When I just muttered, she went back to the party. A second later I sat up. "Marischino cherries?"

I looked. There was a ladder where there should have been no ladder, and girlish legs were ascending. I got out and looked. Assorted legs were sticking out of upper seven. I peeked throught the curtain. Thirteen girls... and Joe. "What's going on here? Josephin?"

From somewhere at the back of the crowd I heard. "It's not my fault! I didn't invite them."

"Everybody out." I ordered.

Sugar started to climb down, and I heard Joe whine, "Not you, Sugar!"

She assured him, "I'm just going to get some ice." She went to the water fountain, pried open the bottom panel, and pulled out a huge chunk of ice. Then she shoved it into my hands. "What's this?"

Sugar had a cymbal and drum brush from the drummer's gear. "C'mon, Daphne, before it melts." She went into the ladies' lounge.

Well, what could I do but follow? I left Joe with the harem he'd always dreamed of, but now couldn't enjoy.

In the lounge, I dropped the ice in the sink and scolded, "Sugar, you're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."

"You're right. Better keep a lookout."

All right, no one can accuse me of not being a good sport. I peeked through the curtains, watching the car. "If Bienstock catches you again... What's the matter with you, anyway?"

"I'm not very bright, I guess."

There was such sad matter-of-factness in her tone that it made me look around. "Oh, I wouldn't say THAT. Careless, maybe."

"No, just dumb. If I had any brains, I wouldn't be on this crummy train with this crummy girl band. I used to sing with male bands, but I can't afford it any more."

I was puzzled. "Afford it?"

"Have you ever been with a male band?"

I did wide-eyed innocense. "Me?"

"That's what I'm running away from. I worked with six different ones in the last two years. Oh, brother! Rough? I'll say."

I nodded sympathy. "You can't trust those guys."

"I can't trust myself. The moment I'd start with a new band - bingo! You see, I have this thing about saxophone players."

Ah, geez. Didn't it figure? "Testify, my sister."

"You, too?" I nodded. " I'm really bad about tenor sax. I don't know what it is, but they just curdle me. All they have to do is play eight bars of Come to Me My Melancholy Baby- and my spine turns to custard, and I get goose-pimply all over - and I come to them. Every time!"

"Josephine plays tenor sax."

"But she's a girl, thank goodness."

"Yeah."

Sugar kept chipping. "That's why I joined this band. Safety first. Anything to get away from those bums. You don't know what they're like. You fall for them and you love 'em - you think it's going to be the biggest thing since the Graf Zeppelin - and the next thing you know they're borrowing money from you and spending it on other dames and betting on the horses."

This is your life. "You don't say?"

Ice chips flew. "Then one morning you wake up and the saxophone is gone and the guy is gone, and all that's left behind is a pair of old socks and a tube of toothpaste, all squeezed out."

I was truly indignant for her. "Men!"

She kept on. "So you pull yourself together and you go on to the next job, and the next saxophone player, and it's the same thing all over again. See what I mean? - not very bright. I can tell you one thing - it's not going to happen to me again. Ever. I'm tired of getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop."

Olga burst in through the curtains. "Ice! What's keeping the ice? The natives are getting restless."

I handed her the cymbal full of ice. "How about a couple of drinks for us?"

She winked and scooted out. Sugar said thoughtfully, "You know I'm going to be twenty-five in June? That's a quarter of a century. Makes a girl think about the future. You know - like a husband? That's why I'm glad we're going to Florida."

Okay, this stumped me. "What's in Florida?"

Sugar grinned. "Millionaires. Flocks of them. They all go south for the winter. Like birds."

The light dawned. "Going to catch yourself a rich bird?"

Sugar shrugged. "Oh, I don't care how rich he is - as long as he has a yacht and his own private railroad car and his own toothpaste. Maybe you'll meet one too, Daphne."

Oh, what the hell. I could dream, couldn't I? "Yeah. With money like Rockefeller, and shoulders like Johnny Weismuller."

Sugar shook her head. "I want mine to wear glasses. Men who wear glasses are so much more gentle and sweet and helpless. Haven't you ever noticed? They get those weak eyes from reading - you know, all those long columns of tiny figures in the Wall Street Journal."

Olga came back with the drinks, and got more ice. "That sax, boy! She sure knows how to throw a party." She dashed off.

Sugar raised her paper cup. "Happy days!"

The poor kid. She'd been through a lot, and she deserved something nice. "I hope this time you wind up with the sweet end of the lollipop, Sugar." I toasted with her.