The Cocktail Waitress is the final novel of James M. Cain. Begun in 1975 when the 83-year-old crime fiction godfather had relocated from Los Angeles to Hyattsville, MD, Cain passed away two years later and his manuscript remained lost. Efforts by editor Charles Ardai to recover it resulted in the discovery of not only a complete manuscript but several, though undated. Unlike a lot of posthumously published fiction, there was a finished product here. How finished remains open to debate in what does at times read like a rough draft. But rough James M. Cain is better than finished product nearly every other author in his weight class.
Published in 2012 by Hard Case Crime, the story is the first-person account of Joan Medford, a newly widowed housewife in Hyattsville who finds herself in perilous financial and legal tides. Left nothing by her alcoholic and physically abusive husband but broken furniture and questions by the police over how he came to crash a car into a culvert, Joan must turn her young son Tad over to her sister-in-law Ethel, who loves the boy and plots for full custody while Joan searches for work. The more sympathetic of the two police detectives questioning her recommends Joan for an open waitressing job at the nearby Garden of Roses.
Joan's legs make such an impression on the woman who owns restaurant that she's given a job at the cocktail bar. Joan befriends a veteran cocktail waitress named Liz Baumgarten and learns the tricks of the trade, where one less button fastened and extra attention to the customer can profit a waitress. Joan's first regular is a gentleman of self-importance who identifies himself as "Earl K. White the Third." Joan has to look him up in the phone book the next day to learn he works in investment securities, but doesn't discourage his ardor and brings home a $19.15 tip that night. Soon, Joan is able to turn her telephone, electricity and gas on and begin efforts to prove herself a fit mother.
Ethel asked, her voice like ice: "Where did you get the money you're spreading around so generously to every child in sight? Working at your cocktail lounge?"
"That's right."
"I didn't realize a waitress gets tipped so well, just for waitressing. Or are you doing more now, on the side?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"I'm sure you do."
"My customers have been generous with me, and I choose to share it. I won't apologize for it."
"It's not the generosity you should apologize for, but what you have to do to make it possible."
In addition to the stress of the police wanting to exhume her ex-husband's body in a case they have not yet closed, Joan is nearly fired from her job when she beats up a trashed customer who's way too flagrant with his hands. The young man, a charismatic sort working on big ideas and a bigger score named Tom Barclay, doesn't apologize, but does insist that Joan not be fired and from that moment on, hounds her every night to go out with him. Joan is far more inclined to enter into a financial arrangement with Earl K. White the Third, who gives Joan $50,000, no strings attached, except the ones Joan can't see when she deposits the check.
Missing physical love, Joan gradually warms to Tom. Using most of her gift from Earl K. White the Third to purchase a rental property, she agrees to post bail on Tom's behalf for a senior municipal engineer arrested for bribery and who Tom believes can award him a job in the Department of Natural Resources. She then agrees to go out with him, but is taken to a strip club/ junior brothel called the Wigwam where he pounces on her at the first opportunity. Joan storms out and nearly runs Tom over with her car to get away from the creeper. Discovering that Earl K. White the Third was having her tailed, Joan finds her big tipper suddenly not so eager to finance her.
Suffering from a heart condition that would make the consummation of any marriage fatal, Earl K. White the Third nevertheless considers Joan's offer to enter into a kind of financial arrangement, where she's his wife on paper and can spend more time with him, minus world burning sex or sex of any kind. Meanwhile, the engineer she posted her property to bail out of jail skips. This puts Joan into a financial arrangement with Tom and the two of them set out to track the bail jumper down. All of Joan's worries about money and getting her son back appear answered when Earl agrees to marry her, until she realizes that she might have to perform certain duties in the bedroom after all.
When we were alone, Earl said, "Now I don't know about you, Joan, but after a wedding, a car ride, and a plane trip, I could do with a little bed rest."
"Oh, I'm quite tired too."
But once more the drawstring pulled in my stomach, as I still didn't quite know what to expect.
I found out soon enough.
Both our bedrooms opened onto the sitting room, and he stepped into his, he half-whispered, in a friendly confidential way: "I'll be getting my things off." It seemed to mean more to come, and when I went to my room, I couldn't make myself undress. I put my things away, then sat down to think, but managed only to feel numb. When there came a rap on the door I called: "Come." But I sounded muffled and strangled and queer. Then he was there in pajamas and slippers and a robe. "So!" he exclaimed, very friendly. "Thanks for waiting. Now I can see the whole show."
I've spoken of my temper, and now I wrestled with it, trying to hold it back. I couldn't. "What show?" I heard myself say, sounding ugly.
"Why, as your husband, I'd like to watch you undress. Fact of the matter, I've been looking forward to it."
I wanted to do what I did to Tom, flatten his ears with slaps, but did nothing at first but sit there, swallowing, trying to get myself under control. Then: "Are you sure that's recommended?" I asked. "After all I'm anatomically normal, and might have an anatomically normal effect."
Flawed and perhaps unfinished as it is, I had a strong rooting interest in The Cocktail Waitress. Joan Medford, like Mildred Pierce, is dropped into a pit she spends the story trying to climb out of. That's exciting. I enjoy stories about characters struggling to make ends meet especially and coming from a generation that suffered through the Great Depression, Cain plugs his characters into those straits. I liked the way Joan has to establish her moral principles in her new life, drawing boundaries at work that men constantly, continually, try to redraw for her to get what they need. And much of the prose has the allure of a classic femme fatale story.
I come now to Tom Barclay, but before I tell about him, what he did to me, and what I did to him, I have to tell about our pants, the hot pants Liz and I went out and bought, for her and me to put on, without telling Bianca we would, thereby causing a situation. It might sound frivolous, coming on the heels of such serious matters as potentially being accused of murder--but everything else stemmed from it, however trivial it might have seemed at the start.
It was the first week of July, and murderously hot in the Garden, even with air-conditioning. That was unusual in Hyattsville, because Prince George's County doesn't have it hot like Washington, or on Montgomery County in Maryland, alongside Prince George's but north of it; and vice versa, not such cold weather in winter. But we had it hot this time, and not being used to it, our clientele was feeling it more than some other clientele might. And of course all the girls were feeling it, especially Liz. During a lull one night she said to me: "Joanie, not to get personal, but are you getting damp, like? In a certain intimate place? That we don't mention in mixed company, but between girls could be called the crotch?"
I like Cain's priorities. Illustrating Joan's objectification by sporting men in the bar is one part. She also has to accept the dangers of earning tip or gift income from men who appreciate her physical allure and may or may not want something in return. "Nothing in life is free" and "everyone pays" are the messages here. Even though I wasn't very compelled by the criminal schemes Cain came up with or the many pages devoted to Joan's honeymoon and marriage--which reads like research or a rough draft that needed work--I did enjoy spending time with The Cocktail Waitress.
Word count: 78,007 words