Gloria Soonin looked no more real than one of the wax figures that graced the windows of her mammoth beauty salon. Throughout the country, women used Gloria Soonin’s lotions, creams, and powders in the hope that they would be as lovely as Gloria Soonin had been before she began using her own famous cosmetics.
Gloria’s hair had once been radiantly blonde. It was now blondely radiant. Her flesh had the bloom of the rose, for that tired cliché is the only one with the solid truth in it. She regarded the girl across the desk.
“My dear Miss Harper,” she said with her famous smile, “you’ve been neglecting yourself. Let’s start with your eyes. Is it really necessary that your vision be corrected to a twenty-twenty rating?”
“I don’t think so,” Bernice said.
“A lot of women would rather not be able to see across the room than have to look through such plate glass as that,” Gloria said. “Why don’t you see a lens technician? If he thinks contact lenses wouldn’t be adequate, try a lightweight pair of glasses with an upsweep that would accentuate the gaunt look of your face. We can’t hide that, my dear, and since we can’t, we might as well make the most of it.”
Bernice nodded.
“And your hair,” Gloria said. “Luckily for your gaunt face and split hair ends, style will permit us to give you a feather cut. You’re going to find, Miss Harper, that your hair styling is going to do more for you than any other one thing.”
Carlos was awaiting her when she came down the two steps into the café near the Citizen’s Bank. He grinned and stared at her. Her heart beat faster. He’s pleased, she thought. He likes the way I look. Even her dress had been chosen by the staff at Gloria Soonin’s. It accentuated the slenderness of her hips. It straightened her shoulders, made them seem wider. It subtly suggested firm, high breasts. It was a youthful dress. It was so unquestionably right that just wearing it gave Bernice a new sense of self-confidence.
“Gee, you look swell,” Carlos said. “I don’t want you to think you didn’t look fine before. But now you’ll feel better, won’t you?”
“Do you like me this way?”
“Sure.”
“Then I feel wonderful.”
“You look wonderful.”
Bernice tried to keep her voice casual. “When we first met, Carlos, you said something I haven’t been able to forget. About running away. Gee, I’d like to get out of this town.”
“O.K.,” Carlos said. “Let’s take a bus ride somewhere. We can pretend we’re running away.”
She shook her head. “You’re laughing. I didn’t mean that. Something is wrong, Carlos, you won’t ever talk about yourself. You don’t tell me anything.”
“What’s there to tell, Bernice? A country boy. A job in the city. A pretty girl and broke. Why should I want to talk about that?”
“But that’s not all. You never stay with me after seven o’clock.”
“Is that terrible?”
“It is to me. Why must you run every day at seven? Why do you begin to get nervous and watch the clock?”
His face was set and angry. “Maybe I’ve something I have to do, Bernice.”
“You act like you’re in trouble. You won’t tell me about it. You seem to like me. Looks like if you did, you’d tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. The best thing is to forget it.”
“I can’t.”
His eyes were cold. “All right. What do you want me to do, stop seeing you altogether?”
Her mouth parted. “Oh, no. Please, Carlos. I didn’t mean that. I won’t argue again. I won’t say anything. Not any more.”
“Gosh, Bernice, I’ve skipped work four times to be with you, haven’t I? What do I have to do?”
“I don’t know. I’d just like to get away from here. Maybe across the Atlantic.”
“Let’s make it the Pacific,” he said. “It’s bigger.”
They both laughed. Her hand was on the table. His fingers covered it. Bernice felt the tremors move up her arm and congeal in her throat, almost suffocating her. She turned her hand palm upward. She spread her fingers wide and taut, closing them over Carlos’ like a vise. That was the way she wanted to hold him.
He looked at her. “Hey,” he said. “Not here.”
She was waiting for him the next morning outside the bank. He was taking the morning off again. He had called her and told her to meet him. She had run all the way.
She put out her hand and he took it. The need to touch him overwhelmed her now and they walked along the street with her clinging to his hand.
They were almost at the subway kiosk. Carlos stopped dead still in his tracks.
“Go on, Bernice.” He spoke from the side of his mouth. His voice was frightened. “Go on, I tell you. Keep walking. Go home. I’ll call you. I’ll come to see you as soon as I can.”
She stared at him. But he wasn’t looking at her. His distended eyes were fixed on something across the wide walk. She followed the direction of his gaze.
A man was leaning against the fender of a highly glossed new Buick Riviera. He was tall, even taller than Carlos, but he was thin. Gaunt. His gaudy tie was knotted at the tight collar of a pearl-gray shirt. His gray suit had three-quarter-length coat and tight cuffed trousers. His fair-skinned face was pale; he looked as if he’d grown up in pool halls and never breathed anything but cue dust. He was manicuring his white nails with a penknife. He was staring at Carlos, face expressionless.
Bernice had no intention of leaving Carlos now unless she were bodily forced apart from him. She stood at his side. He seemed to have forgotten her.
“Hi, Mitch,” Carlos said. His voice sounded hollow.
Mitch straightened up from the car. He came slowly across the walk. “Yesterday you was late,” Mitch said.
“I told you. I—” Carlos began. But he seemed to know an alibi was useless. He gave it up with a slight shrug.
“Now today again you ain’t workin’ at all.”
“All right! I’m not working.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“Another one?” Mitch looked at Bernice. He motioned toward the car. “If you ain’t doing anything, Carlos, why don’t you come along with me? Sure like to talk to you.”
Carlos opened his mouth to protest. His shoulders sagged. “All right,” he said. He turned to Bernice. “It was swell. I—I’ll see you again.”
Mitch looked at Bernice again. He said, “Don’t take no bets on it, baby.”
Carlos tried to smile at her. But his face was pale and taut.
Bernice stood and watched him get in the glossy car and drive away with the man he had called Mitch. And what about the day they were going to spend together? Her heart sank. When will I see him again?
She walked through the busy streets to her apartment. In her room she kicked off her shoes. She raked the upsweep glasses from her eyes. She drew back her arm as though she were going to hurl them through the window.
She cast off the pretty new dress and wandered about the place in her slip. She ate a lunch of tomato soup and crackers. All the money she had spent to look lovely enough for Carlos—what good was it doing her? What was the matter? What was he afraid of? Where was he?
The telephone rang. She leaped up from the divan, praying it was Carlos.
It was her mother. Bernice half listened to her chatter. A million things, Bernice thought, that I’m not interested in at all. Her mother said, “The funniest thing, Bernice. A man was asking about you this morning. Early. Before seven o’clock this morning.”
Fred Findlay. That was Bernice’s first thought.
“Was it a detective?” she said.
“Oh, no,” said her mother. “This was a young man. Real good-looking, Bernice. Blond. Tall. I’ve seen movie stars at the RKO that couldn’t even touch him.”
Bernice frowned. She felt empty in her stomach. Carlos. Before seven in the morning.
“What did he want, Ma?”
“I don’t know
. He just asked what you were doing, where you worked. Who you used to work for.” Her mother’s laugh was self-deprecating. “I hope you don’t mind, Bernice. I talked my silly head off, he seemed so interested. And so good-looking.”
Bernice replaced the telephone. She began to tremble. Maybe they’d been watching her since she cashed that first hundred-dollar bill. Good God, she had been about to tell Carlos all about the twenty-four thousand dollars!
Anger made her ill. Wouldn’t that have been lovely! A trap baited with someone as terrific as Carlos Brandon!
What a fool you were! the voices screeched inside her. What a fool! Don’t you know you can’t trust anyone now? Now less than ever! You’ve got to stay alone now. That’s part of the price you have to pay for getting what you wanted.
Bernice strode about the room. Getting what she wanted? What had she got that she wanted? She wanted only one thing. She wanted to be appreciated, admired, loved. Well, she was farther from it than ever.
She hated Carlos. She no longer even wanted to live, she hated him so terribly. She thought, I only want to see him one more time I only want to tell him what I think of him.
The doorbell rang. She wasn’t even going to answer it. There was no one in the world she wanted to see. She even took a perverse pleasure in listening to its ringing. She sat on the side of her bed, her dry eyes wide, her hair rumpled, listening to it ring.
“Bernice!”
It was Carlos. All the hatred, all the despair washed out of her. She ran toward the door in her slip, her hair wild.
She flung open the door.
He smiled at her. There it was. That look of relief in his face again!
“Hello,” he said.
She just stared at him. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. He waited only until the lock clicked. He caught her to him, his arms lifting her into place against him.
She could feel the warmth of him and the strength of him and the excitement of him. She began to tremble in his arms. Her teeth were chattering when he kissed her. But his mouth closed over hers, and his tongue thrust deep in her mouth. She grabbed his head in her hands, dragging him closer, feeling his tongue thrusting deeper...
“I’ve been so afraid for you all day.”
“Don’t be, Bernice. It was just a guy I owe some money to. I came as quick as I could, Bernice.”
“I’m glad.” She tilted her head and kissed him again, her parted mouth clinging. Her fingers dug into his back. She drew away, talking against his mouth. “Why’d you do it, Carlos? Why’d you go up there? Asking questions about me?”
She felt him go tense. A frown moved across his face. His eyes narrowed. “Why do you think I did?”
“I don’t know.”
He laughed. “I was up that way, Bernice. I had to be up early. I had an errand up there. I went around to where you grew up. I was thinking about you. And I happened to meet your mother. And there it is. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Mind?” she said through her tears. “I don’t mind, Carlos. Even if I did mind, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stay away from you.”
He carried her across to the divan, held her in his arms. “It does happen that way, Bernice. Two people meet. They know. Right from the start.”
“I couldn’t believe it was like that with you.”
“It was, though. I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“I threw myself at you. I wanted you so. That first day.”
“You didn’t! Sure you wanted me to love you. I wanted it, too. Only I want something better than that for us, Bernice.”
She felt her heart slugging. This was a dream. It wasn’t real. In a moment, the pool. The mushrooms.
He was holding an inexpensive necklace before her.
“On the way to work,” he said, “I saw this in a jewelry store. It looked like you, Bernice. I wanted you to have it.”
He snapped it about her throat.
She couldn’t speak. At last she whispered. “You shouldn’t. You can’t afford it.”
“What the hell?” Carlos scoffed. “Who wants to eat?”
She buried her face against his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was grim. “You know what I wish, Bernice? I wish we could be married.”
“Married?”
“Oh, I know it’s crazy. But crazy or not, it’s what I want.”
“But you don’t know anything about me.”
“I know I love you. Do you know anything about me?”
She laughed. “No. But that’s different. I don’t care.” Her fingers dug into him. “The only thing I hate,” she said, “is that we’ll have to wait two whole days for the license.” “You’re supposed to laugh, Bernice. I don’t make enough money to marry on.”
“Maybe I make enough,” she whispered.
His voice was sarcastic. “I don’t want my wife to work. Any more than I want to live in this town with her. I’d like to clear out of here, just you and me. Now. Today.”
She sat up, taking his beautiful face in her hands. “Don’t get mad, now,” she pleaded. “But I have some money, Carlos. And I’ve never loved anyone as I do you.”
“Now you’re kidding me. And I wasn’t kidding, Bernice.”
She caught her breath. “I’m not. I’m trying to tell you. I’ll lend you the money. Tell me where we’d go. Tell me!”
“Florida?”
She sighed. “All right. We’ll go. Next week.”
“Next week? Why not next year? Why not never? You’re not anxious—”
“Anxious?” She laughed. “I just didn’t want to frighten you.”
His voice was ironic. “I’ll bet we could get reservations on a plane today. We’d be in Florida in four hours. No damned two-day wait down there. We could be married tomorrow.”
She was clinging to his shoulders with white-knuckled hands. “I’ll call,” she whispered. “If we can get a reservation, we’ll do it.”
He sat there watching her.
Bernice was trembling as she picked up the telephone.
Eight
They were in Florida that night. They arrived at the Tampa International Airport at six o’clock.
Bernice was tense and sick with nervous anxiety. She had packed hurriedly, and it was on her mind all during the flight that she had no nightgown. She even managed to find time to plan the kind of nightgown she would buy. She hoped the stores wouldn’t be closed when they arrived in Florida. All she knew about Florida was that it was the city of Miami surrounded by swamps, alligators, and cotton-haired old Negro men singing in the cotton fields. She even doubted they had stores where they sold lace nightgowns. And that added to her nervous tension.
She had given Carlos three hundred dollars before they left her small apartment. The tickets cost just over a hundred. He had said nothing about returning any of the remaining money. But she had Carlos. She didn’t care about money.
When they came off the plane, Bernice said, “Let’s get a cab, Carlos. I want to get into town before all the stores close.”
“Why?”
“I want to buy something.”
“Look, Bernice. You’re all right. Just the way you are, you’re all right. We don’t want to stay here. This town is too big. We’re going to get a bus out of here right away.”
“Please, Carlos. It won’t take five minutes.”
His jaw tightened. But he managed to keep his voice light. “Look, honey. You’re marrying me. I’m going to be boss in this family. O.K.?”
“Yes, but-”
“All right. We’re moving on. Listen, baby, there are hotels on the beaches. And the beaches are really white. You can look for miles and see white sand. Not the yellow, oily stuff you saw at Coney. Real white sand. That’s where we’re going. Some nice quiet beach hotel. O.K. with you?”
“Gee. It sounds wonderful, Carlos.”
“Then stop arguing about a store.”
They hurried toward the taxi stands. Carlos was carrying bot
h their small bags. He leaned in the front window of a cab. “How much to the bus station, fella?”
“Be three bucks, mister. You and the lady and the bags.”
Bernice saw Carlos wince. She smiled lovingly. He hated to spend her money foolishly.
“All right,” he decided. “If that’s the way it is.”
There wasn’t a bus out of town for an hour and a half. They ate supper at a small table in the bus-station restaurant. Carlos ordered for them. When the meal was brought, he began to eat ravenously. He didn’t even look up from his plate.
Bernice smiled. He was hungry. The excitement had affected them differently. Bernice could only pick at her food. Carlos pushed his empty plate back and sat watching her.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “Not hungry?”
“Not very, I guess.” She smiled wanly at him. “Too excited.”
“You mean you’re not going to eat your dinner?”
Bernice looked at the steaming plate. She might have taken a few more bites. Maybe if they sat there long enough, she might eat it all.
“If you don’t want it,” he said, “give it here. There’s no use wasting it, is there?”
He reached over and took away her plate. She pulled her coffee before her and began to sip it. She lifted her eyes from her cup. Carlos was already finishing off her meal.
The waitress was standing beside him. “I’ll take apple pie,” he told her. “You want any dessert, Bernice?”
“It comes with the meal,” the waitress said.
“Well, sure, bring it, then,” Carlos said. “No use wasting it.”
Carlos finished both slices of pie. He picked up the check and went over it carefully. He looked up.
“You have two cups of coffee?”
Bernice nodded.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, you have to be careful in these places. They’ll take you. Know you’ll never be back.”
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