The back of his head shook dolefully. “A sad night, a sad night.” The echoes of laughter were deep in his throat. “When you were a lad, you could recognize me car six blocks away, and now—”
“Can it, Pop.” I began to laugh. “It was never your hack I knew, just the crazy way you drive. Some day they’re gonna get wise to you. Then—bang—no medallion.”
He stopped for a signal light and looked up into the mirror. “I spoke to Marge this afternoon. She told me you were in Pittsburgh an’ didn’t know whether you’d be back tonight or tomorrow. A big deal, she said.”
I could see his glance flickering across Elaine. I half smiled to myself as the car started again. Pop was a true hackie. Always ready to think the worst of anyone. It amused me to find I wasn’t exempt from his suspicions. “It was the big one, Pop,” I said. “But like in the old fish story, it got away.”
Pop wasn’t to be sidetracked. “And the lady? A business friend, no doubt?” he asked dryly.
I glanced at Elaine out of the corner of my eyes. She caught on quick. There was an amused smile on her lips. “In a way, Pop,” I answered casually, knowing it would annoy him.
I turned to Elaine. “Elaine, this is my father,” I said. “He’s an old man with a very evil mind, but I’m not responsible for it. He had it before I was born.” I spoke across the window to him. “Pop—Mrs. Schuyler.”
Elaine’s voice was very rich in the dimness. “Glad to know you, Mr. Rowan.”
Pop’s head nodded embarrassedly. Actually, he was very shy when it came to meeting my friends.
“Mrs. Schuyler was on the same plane,” I explained. “I told her I would drop her off at her hotel.”
“Brad is very kind, Mr. Rowan.” Elaine kicked the ball further toward the goal. “I told him not to go out of his way.”
“Bernard is very partial toward women, Mrs. Schuyler,” Pop said. “Especially beautiful women.”
She laughed. “I can see now where your son inherits his blarney, Mr. Rowan.”
“He’s a fine lad, Mrs. Schuyler,” Pop said, suddenly serious. “He’s got two beautiful children, did he tell you? A boy, almost nineteen, in college, and a daughter in high school.”
I could see her teeth gleam as she smiled. “I know,” she said.
“He’s a good husband and father,” Pop continued. “He’s married to a very fine girl he’s known ever since public school.”
I began to squirm in my seat. What had got into the old man, anyhow? “Cut it, Pop,” I interrupted. “I’m sure Mrs. Schuyler isn’t interested in my life story.”
“Please don’t, Mr. Rowan.” Elaine’s voice had a caustic edge to it. “I’m fascinated.”
That was all he had to hear. From there until we stopped in front of her hotel he kept on talking. Even I had to admit it was a dull story. Who cared right now how bad a student I had been and that I didn’t finish high school? I was glad when we finally reached her hotel.
“Wait for me, Pop,” I said, taking her bag and jumping out. “I’ll see Mrs. Schuyler inside.”
She shook hands with Pop, then followed me through the revolving doors. “Your father’s very proud of you, Brad,” she said as we walked through the lobby.
I stopped in front of the elevators. “I’m his only child,” I said. “And he’s prejudiced.”
There was a curious smile on her lips. “He has a right to be. You’re quite a guy.” Her voice seemed strained.
I couldn’t figure her out, there was something about her that was escaping me. “Elaine,” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Everything.”
“I’ll get rid of him,” I said. “I’ll have him take me over to the garage to get my car. I’ll tell him I’ll drive home.”
“Don’t be a fool!” she whispered savagely. “The only reason he was waiting at the airport was to drive you home. Don’t you know that?”
It all added up. He couldn’t have known that I told Marge I wouldn’t be home until tomorrow because he had spoken to her in the afternoon, and I’d spoken to her in the evening. I should have known that right away because his car didn’t swing in from the feed line, but off from the side where he had been waiting.
“I told you we should’ve stayed there,” I said bitterly.
Her voice was dull. “It doesn’t matter now.”
I looked at her. The shadows of pain had crept back into her eyes and I could feel their hurt inside me. An ache began to throb in my heart. We didn’t speak. I could only watch the misery spread its tiny searing threads across her face. The elevator doors opened and she moved toward them.
I handed her the bag. “I’ll call you later,” I said helplessly.
There was a hint of moisture in her eyes. She nodded, not speaking.
“Good night, darling,” I said as the doors closed.
I went back through the lobby and out into the cab.
“Okay, Pop,” I said wearily, settling back into the seat.
He was silent all through the city until we hit the highway. Then Pop looked back at me through the mirror. “She’s a very beautiful lady, Bernard.”
I nodded. “Yes, Pop.”
“How do you know her?”
Slowly I told him all about her and how I had come to meet her. When I had finished, he shook his head sadly. “A crying shame.”
With a sense of relief I felt the car swing into our driveway and stop. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I looked at my watch. It was after midnight. “You might as well spend the night, Pop,” I said. “It’s too late to go home.”
As usual, Pop got independent. “Nonsense, Bernard. The night is young yet. Me best fares are in front of me.”
As usual, I had to con him. “Stay, Pop,” I asked. “This way we can go down together tomorrow. You know how I hate the train.”
Marge was surprised to see me, and I explained to her that the meeting had been called off at the last minute so I had decided to come home. Jeanie came down and we all had coffee in the kitchen. I remember mentioning that I had met Elaine on the plane coming back and seeing the queer look of suspicion on my father’s face, but it passed quickly as I told them about Matt Brady’s offer.
It was one-thirty in the morning when we were finished and the drug store three blocks away was closed and there was no way I could call Elaine so I went up to bed.
I was restless, and couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned fitfully. Some time during the night, Marge’s hand reached out and touched my shoulder.
“Anything wrong, Brad?” Her voice was tender as the night.
“No,” I answered shortly. “I’m all wound up, I guess.”
“Too much big deal,” she whispered. I heard a rustle of sheets, then she came into my bed. Her arms went around my neck, drawing my head down to her breast. “Sleep, baby, rest,” she crooned softly as if I were a child.
At first I was tight and tense as a coiled spring, but then slowly everything seeped out of me as I listened to her calm, steady breathing and the warmth of her body crept through me. I closed my eyes.
I called Elaine as soon as I got to the office in the morning. The operator’s answer wasn’t a surprise to me. Somehow I had known from the moment she had walked into that elevator last night how it would be. And still, I didn’t want to believe it. “What’s that?” I asked foolishly, as if I couldn’t hear.
The operator’s voice was more distinct than ever. There was the professional’s annoyance with laymen in its sound as it came with terrible clarity through the receiver to my ear.
“Mrs. Schuyler checked out this morning.”
16
By three in the afternoon I thought my guts would fall out. At first I was angry, then I was hurt. She didn’t have to run like that. We were grown people. People fell in love and it was rough, but they didn’t run away. There’s no place to hide from love.
So I plunged into work. The only way I had to forget. By noon I had everyone in the of
fice crazy. I acted like a demon and I knew it. I didn’t even take time for lunch. But it did no good. The pain kept creeping back inside me until I couldn’t stand it any longer.
I chased everybody out of my office and told Mickey I didn’t want to be disturbed. I opened a bottle of Scotch and poured me a hooker. Twenty minutes later my head ached as much as my heart.
My private phone began to ring. The one that didn’t go through the switchboard. For a long time I sat there listening to it. I didn’t want to answer it. Marge was the only one to call me on it and I couldn’t talk to her now.
But it kept on ringing and at last I walked across the office to my desk and picked it up. “Hello,” I grunted.
“Brad?”
My heart began to jump excitedly when I recognized the voice. “Where are you?” I growled.
“Uncle Matthew’s,” she answered.
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. “I thought you were running away from me,” I said.
“I am,” she answered flatly.
For a moment I couldn’t speak, then the pain in my temples bound my head in a vise. “Why—why?” was all I could ask.
“You’re not for me, Brad.” Her voice was so low I could hardly hear her. “I know that now, especially after last night. I must have been out of my mind.”
“My father’s an old man,” I said quickly. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand too well,” she interrupted. “I only wish I didn’t. I don’t know why I started with you. There was nothing in it for me in the first place.”
“Elaine!” I could feel the ache searing through me.
“Maybe it was because I was lonely,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Or maybe because I was so long without a man, and I missed David so.”
“That’s not true, doll,” I said desperately, “and you know it.”
Her voice was weary. “I don’t know what’s true any more. It doesn’t matter, anyway. All I do know is that you’re not for me and I’d better run before I get hurt so bad it can never be fixed.”
“But I love you, Elaine,” I protested. “I love you so much I’ve been sick ever since this morning when I couldn’t get you at the hotel. You’re for me like nothing in this world has ever been. When we’re together, we’re everything a man and a woman are supposed to be to each other. There’s never two of us, only one—”
“It’s no good, Brad,” her voice cut me off. “We can’t win. There’s no way that we can come out even.”
“Elaine,” I called. “You can’t leave me, Elaine!”
“I’m not leaving,” she said quietly. “It’s going to be as if we never met.”
A bitterness ran through me like a flood. “For you, maybe,” I shouted. “But not for me. I might as well make believe I’ve never been born!”
Her voice was deceptively quiet. “In a way, Brad,” she said, “that’s just the way it will seem.”
I didn’t answer. I had no words in me.
“Anyway,” her words were a shiv in my heart and her tone twisted it, “I only called to tell you that Uncle Matt was in New York on business and mentioned that he might drop by your office, if he could find the time. Goodbye, Brad.”
The phone went dead in my hand. Slowly I put it down and sank into my chair. I stared across the desk at the bottle of Scotch. I felt a chill inside me. No more dreams, no more glory, no more ecstasy. I reached for the bottle and held it to my lips.
The intercom buzzed and I flipped the switch without putting the bottle down. “Mr. Brady is here to see you,” Mickey said.
I put the bottle down. The liquor had no effect on me. It was like water. I was still dead. “I can’t see him,” I said. “Send him in to Chris.”
Her voice seemed startled. “But Mr. Rowan—”
“Send him in to Chris!” I shouted. “I said I can’t see him!” I slammed the switch down, cutting her off. For a moment I stared down at the intercom, while the pain inside me rose up and gorged in my throat.
Right behind the pain lay violence. The bottle splintered in my hand as it crashed against the telephone. My foot tingled as I kicked my chair across the room. My ears roared as I swept everything off my desk onto the floor.
The door to my office started to open. Quickly I jumped across the room, holding it shut. Mickey’s voice came anxiously through it. “Brad, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”
I leaned against the door, breathing heavily. “I’m all right,” I gasped. “Go away!”
“But—”
“I’m okay,” I insisted. “Go away!”
I could hear her footsteps leaving the door, and then the squeak of her chair as she sat down at her desk. Quietly I turned the lock and looked back into my office.
It was a shambles. I tried to care about it but I couldn’t. It didn’t matter. I took the handkerchief from my breast pocket and wiped my face. I could feel the damp sweat of nausea on my cheeks. I crossed the room and opened the window.
The cold air came running into the room and the nausea went away. For a long time I stood there looking over the city. You’re a dope, I told myself. You’re acting like a teenage kid. You got everything you ever wanted in this world. Dough. Position. Respect. A Cadillac. What more do you want? No dame is that important.
That was it. No dame was that important. I knew that all the time. That’s what I always said. I closed the window and walked back through the office. I sat down on the couch and opened another bottle of Scotch. I poured myself a big one.
This time I could feel the liquor hit my stomach and bounce through me. I fished a cigarette from my pocket and lit it. The smoke went tingling through my nose and I leaned back against the cushions. I was tired and beat so I closed my eyes—and she jumped back into the room.
I could feel the softness of her hair, see the gentle curve of her smile, hear the sweetness in her voice. I rolled over and buried my face in the cushions until I could hardly breathe. But it was no good.
I punched my hand into the cushions to drive her face away. No dame is that important. I opened my eyes but she was still in the room, just out of sight.
I got to my feet defiantly. I was shouting now. “Go away! Don’t bother me!” I shut up guilty as my voice bounced back in the empty room.
What am I acting like a fool for? I asked myself. I can get any dame I want. Any size, shape or color. She wasn’t the only broad in the world.
An idea hit me and I crossed the room. I picked up the phone and dialed long distance. I gave the operator a number and waited while the phone rang.
A voice answered.
“Sandra,” I said quickly. “This is Brad Rowan.” She started to speak but I drowned her out. “Listen to me. You were wrong about another dame. There isn’t any.” I checked my watch. “If you catch the four-thirty plane, you’ll be at La Guardia at a quarter to seven…”
17
I dropped into Armand’s for a drink before picking up the car. It was a little after six and the bar was jumping. I pushed my way through the pack and gestured to the bartender. Automatically he put my drink in front of me; he knew what I wanted.
I looked down the bar and nodded to a few people I knew, but I didn’t speak. There was nothing I had to say. I concentrated on my liquor.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. It was Mort Rainier, who had one of the best ad agencies in town. “Hello, Colonel,” I said in reply to his greeting and set myself for at least ten minutes of trade talk during which each of us would try to top the other’s lies.
Mort was essentially a nice “no talent” with some very good connections. He had been a Colonel at SHAEF during the war and it had paid off in a big way. Mort’s face was serious though; this was one time he was having none of the trade talk. “You-all in trouble, boy?” he said, half statement, half question.
I was puzzled and looked it. “Asking or telling?”
“You don’t know?” It was his turn to be puzzled.
I shook my head.
He gestured and I picked my drink from the bar and followed him to a small table, where we sat down. He leaned toward me, his voice lowering. “The word is out. You got Matt Brady sour on you.”
There were no secrets on Madison Avenue. It was less than three hours since I had refused to see Brady. That’s what came from living in each other’s bathrooms. “Where’d you hear that?” I asked.
“Around,” he answered evasively. “They say he’s going to put the hex on you.”
I laughed. “This street is lousy with rumors. All I did was turn down a job he offered me. Nobody steams over that.”
“Matt Brady does,” he said. “I hear you threw him out of your office.”
I was beginning to get angry. The world was lousy with spies. I wondered if he could tell me when I had been to the can last. “What if I did?” I asked. “I got a right to do business with whoever I want.”
“I like you, Brad,” he said, getting to his feet. “I just thought I’d tip you off.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly, looking up at him. “I like you too, baby.”
I watched him walk back to the bar, finished my drink and got out of there. Driving out to the airport, I did some heavy thinking. There was a leak in my office, and I’d better find it in a hurry or I’d find my guts spilled out all over the street. Mentally I ticked off my staff. There wasn’t anyone there I had to worry about; even the phone operator never plugged in the wrong line.
I left the car in the parking lot and walked over to the gate. The Pittsburgh plane was coming in. I watched its silver sides shimmer as it came to a stop.
She was the fourth person out. I saw her standing at the top of the steps looking for me. I put my fingers up to my lips and whistled.
She smiled and started down the steps. The steward was so busy staring at her legs he forgot to help her down. I didn’t blame him a bit. She was a real woman, not one of these phony titless wonders that worked the model agencies. This was a haystack babe who seemed to have the earth still clinging to her.
“I didn’t know whether you’d come,” I said, leading her to the car.
Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 10