“Big man, I’d have to sit down and split that fifth with you while I filled you in on these characters and what they’re like. Things are going to change, Itchy. Even more than because of the war, I can feel it in my guts, man. And every time things change, there’s always some guy smart enough to cash in. I want to be that guy. You should, too. You all should,” he said broadening out his appeal to the other men in the room.

“Okay,” said Itchy, “we’ll talk. Talking’s for smart guys and I like to think I’m smarter than the average guy.” He paused for a moment, then said, “You tell me these guys got a lot of money.”

Slim Jim leaned forward, looking at each of the men before he said quietly, “A Marine Corps private starts out on a salary of thirty-five grand a year. That’s more than ten times what I make.”

A chorus of soft hoots and wolf whistles played homage to such an impressive figure. Even Big Itchy had to respect a wad of dough like that.

“So how do we get our hands on it? These guys, they like a drink, all guys like a fucking drink, don’t they? And getting laid, too, everyone loves to get laid.”

For the first time, Slim Jim looked a little less sure of himself.

“You know, Itchy, they’re kind of uptight, if you want to know. A lot of them, they don’t seem the type to be lining up outside some shanky whorehouse for two hours just to stick their thing into a dame’s been getting things stuck in her all day.”

“What, are they queer or something?”

“I don’t know man. Maybe it’s all the dames they got on the ships. Maybe they don’t need to. I haven’t been around them along enough to know. But I’m guessing you’ll make more of a buck getting them hammered than laid.”

Slim Jim could almost see the gears and wheels cranking over slowly in Big Itchy’s mind. It made him wish he had a classier connection out here in the islands, but this wasn’t his home turf. He’d have to make do with the shoddy materials he had at hand.

“What about I clean out one of the bars, really clean it out, you know, and put some of my best girls in there. Real clean and pretty ones. Let them make up their own minds.”

Slim Jim made a show of thinking it over.

“Only problem I can see with that,” he said, “you can guarantee it’ll end in a brawl.”

“So what? We got brawls every day.”

“Yeah, but they don’t like brawling much, either.”