Hunger and the Hate

by Dixon, H. Vernor

  “I thought you were settling there permanently.”

  “Heavens, no,” she laughed. “I’ll be staying for the summer, that’s all. Just until Steve seems to be on his feet.”

  Dean’s eyes traveled up her slim legs and trim figure to her blonde hair and then to the smile tugging at her lips and the warm lights in her eyes. It startled him to realize that she was unusually happy at having run into him. There was a certain tenseness about her that did not escape his notice, but otherwise her cool manner was gone, along with the barrier of reserve that he had always faced before. What the devil, he thought. Maybe she isn’t such a cold bitch, after all. Catch ’em off guard and they’re all pretty much the same. But, nevertheless, the warmth of her expression was pleasing to his vanity.

  She kept the car down to a slow speed and turned a corner and asked, “But what are you doing here? Business?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “That was easy to guess.” She paused, then asked pointedly, “Are you staying over tonight?”

  “Yeah. I’ll probably drive back Sunday afternoon or evening.”

  “Why, how nice! Are you alone?”

  Jan was not in his mind at the moment and he nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then perhaps you may be able to do me a favor. I’m having a small dinner party this evening and cards later. I need another man to fill out. It would be wonderful if you could come. Really. Will you, Dean?”

  He was again startled at the eagerness in her voice, and mumbled, “Well, I — ”

  “Have you brought dinner clothes?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then everything is perfect. I’ll be expecting you at seven-thirty. You’ll have no trouble finding my place. The first place on Twelfth Avenue backed up against the Presidio. You go out Lake until you hit Twelfth, then turn right and there you are. The building is two flats, really. I have the upper one. You can’t miss it.”

  “Sounds easy.”

  She turned the car down Powell and pulled in at the white-marked unloading zone before the St. Francis Hotel. “Don’t forget,” she said. “Seven-thirty.”

  Dean found himself standing on the sidewalk watching the Mercedes disappear in the traffic before Jan returned to his mind. Now, he wondered, what have I got myself into?

  He walked into the men’s bar of the St. Francis, just off the lounge, and took a stool at the far end of the bar. He ordered a drink and leaned his elbows on the bar to think things over. A dinner party at Truly’s place would be an interesting experience, and at the moment he was a bit bored with Jan. It would be easy to shake Jan for the evening, but the point was, did he want to? He thought of the warmth in Truly’s smile, and decided that it was worth investigating. He had another cocktail and worked out a simple plan that would take care of Jan. He had no compunctions about deserting her for the evening. She could take care of herself.

  When he returned to his room in the hotel he found Jan still in bed. She was awake, though, and had creamed her face and put on fresh make-up. The ravages of the wild night were gone and so was one of the bottles of champagne. She had had ice sent up to the room, had opened the second bottle, and was sitting back in the bed against some bunched-up pillows, a glass in her hand and the afternoon paper open on her lap. She was still wearing nothing, and she stretched her arms and flexed her body sensuously and smiled at him like a cat as he came in the room.

  Dean stood just within the door, blinking at her, still wishing she would cover herself. Then he shrugged and turned away to mix a drink for himself. “Bad news,” he said.

  “Didn’t you see your men?”

  “Oh,” sure, I saw them. I didn’t get anywhere, though.”

  “Too bad.”

  “Well, it is and it isn’t. That’s the hell of it. I have to get together with them this evening. I tried to get out of it, but no dice. You know how those characters are. They’re all married and have families and they use any excuse to get out for a night. I’m in town to talk business with them, so they make me the excuse. I’ll get their account, all right, but first I have to take them out and splash a little red paint around. And their wives can’t squawk because they’ve been out on business. That’s how it goes.”

  Jan frowned at him and bit her lip. “You mean this is strictly stag?”

  He turned toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid so. Kind of louses up our plans, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. I was just thinking we’d have dinner at Trader Vic’s and then catch the new show at the Italian Village. I hear it’s good.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry, Jan. But you know how business is and that’s why I came up here, anyway. I simply have to close that account.”

  She was still frowning but she reached toward him and patted his hand. “I understand, Dean. You don’t have to worry about me. I can find something to do.” She smiled suddenly and said, “Oh, I know. I’ll give the Robertses a ring. They’re always fun and I haven’t seen them in months. You remember him, Jimmy Roberts? He’s the lawyer who arranged my divorce from Tim and also took care of Sam’s. He’s on the third time around himself. This time he’s married to a model. I think her name is Adele or something. I’ve met her and she’s nice.”

  It was settled, and Dean hid a smile and relaxed.

  But that evening, when he again put on the tuxedo, Jan gave him a suspicious frown. She had never heard of men getting dressed in dinner clothes to go out on a stag party. A stag evening was always as informal as the men could make it. Jan started to question him about it, then changed her mind. Another thought had occurred to her. The wives of family men who were moderately well off usually had their Saturday nights arranged far in advance. A sudden stag affair, whether for business reasons or not, was possible at any other time of the week., but rarely on a Saturday night.

  Jan gave Dean a quick hug as he left, but she was thoughtful as the door closed behind him.

  Dean had no difficulty finding the building in which Truly lived, but as he was getting out of his car he wondered if he shouldn’t have brought a present of some kind. Formal dinner parties were rare in his experience and he was not at all sure what was expected of him, so he decided to be on the safe side. He drove to a business district not far away, found a florist shop open late, and bought two dozen long-stemmed red roses. No one, he was sure, could be wrong about a gift of flowers.

  Truly was surprised and pleased when he climbed the winding stairs to the upper flat and presented her with the flowers. She was also a bit amused, though Dean was not aware of that. He barely glanced at the full-skirted dinner gown she was wearing and looked curiously about the apartment. It was much more spacious than he had imagined, with a number of guest rooms, a den that had been converted into a card room and bar, a rather small kitchen and pantry, but a fairly large dining room and an unusually large living room that overlooked a wild-duck lake and part of the Presidio golf course. As he looked through a window at the trees and the grass, it was difficult to believe that he was in the heart of the city. Truly had chosen her location well.

  While Truly was helping one of the maids arrange the flowers in a large vase, Dean looked critically about at the furnishings and the original paintings on the walls. He knew nothing whatever of quality, without being told, but he had the feeling that everything he saw had been chosen with great care and fine discrimination. Inasmuch as it was a bachelor woman’s apartment, he had expected to find the heavy feminine touch everywhere, as would have been the case with Ruth, and was rather puzzled that such was not the case. But he liked everything he saw. Real class, he thought.

  The eight other guests arrived almost on Dean’s heels. They were all a bit younger than Dean and they were all friends of long standing. Dean acknowledged the introductions stiffly and felt like an outsider. None of them had come from his side of the tracks. The young men all looked as if they had always enjoyed security and good backgrounds and universities and clubs and had stepped without pause into easy jobs and inherited
fortunes. They had married well, all into the same mold, to young women of good family. The women were cut from Truly’s pattern and yet, Dean noticed, with a feeling of abstract pride, Truly was still different.

  He had difficulty adjusting himself to their rapid-fire conversations during cocktails and was almost completely lost at the dinner table. Truly did her best to keep Dean in the conversation, but her guests were not particularly interested in the redheaded stranger and insisted on talking about matters of gossip that were beyond Dean’s understanding. He was happy when the meal came to an end.

  He came into his own, at last, in the card room. The women had someone in their set on the grill and were huddled together in the living room, so the men started a game of poker. Dean sat back with a smile and relaxed. Even in the Salinas Valley, where everyone was a gambler, Dean was without an equal at poker. He concentrated on the cards and let the others do all the talking and started winning at once. In less than an hour the others knew they were up against real talent. Their talking died and they settled down to the grim task of trying to take Dean.

  They played until midnight, when the women insisted that the game must come to an end. Dean got up from the table in a happy frame of mind. He had taken all the cash available and had checks in his wallet from all four of the men. He also had their respect and knew it. They were no longer strangers.

  Someone suggested that they all go downtown and catch the last show at the Italian Village. The name sounded familiar to Dean, but he could not remember where he had heard it. Truly went with Dean in his car and another couple occupied the back seat. Truly gave Dean directions and they soon arrived at the second-floor night club in the Italian quarter of San Francisco’s North Beach. The club was crowded and all the tables were taken, but with the judicious use of a few bills Dean managed to have other tables jammed together and a new one set up for their party in a corner of the room.

  When he danced with Truly on the crowded floor, she made the evening a success by whispering in his ear, “They all like you. I’m glad.”

  “They’re a nice bunch of fellows.”

  “I don’t mean just the men. The women like you, too. And, my God,” she laughed, “are they ever curious!”

  “Why?”

  “Well, they’d like to know where I’ve been hiding you.”

  “Did you tell them under the lettuce crates?”

  “Not quite. But I’m happy you like them all. And now that they know you, of course, you’ll be getting invitations from them for other dinner parties.”

  “Is that all it takes? You give the stamp of approval and I’m in?”

  “Well — ”

  “It’s O.K.,” he laughed. “I should get up to the city more often, anyway. And they seem like a nice bunch.”

  She looked into his eyes as she said, “You’ll be stuck with me, you know.”

  His arm tightened about her waist. “That’s good.”

  He turned her about and stared directly at Jan Parker. She was seated at a table on the edge of the floor with Roberts, the lawyer, and his third wife. Jan had obviously been watching him for some time, as there was no shock or surprise in her expression. She was simply staring at him levelly, an odd smile twisting her full lips, acid in her eyes. Dean missed a beat of the music and stepped on Truly’s foot. Jan laughed and turned to say something to her friends, then got to her feet. The three of them made their way back through the tables and disappeared in the crowd toward the exit.

  Dean led Truly back to their table. He could no longer enjoy the dance. When the floor show came on, Dean was only partly attentive. He knew Jan’s extravagant moods and he was worried. There was no doubt whatever that she would be boiling with anger. And Jan wasn’t the type to allow her anger to go to waste. She would do something about it.

  Dean thought of leaving the party and catching Jan at the hotel, but ruled that out. He had no excuse for leaving Truly and her friends and he had no alibi to offer Jan. It would be a futile chase and he might get his face scratched, besides. He sat back and tried to enjoy the party, but with little success.

  When the show was over they went to a strip-tease emporium in the International Settlement, then to an after-hours drinking spot located in one of the alleys of the financial district. The party broke up at four in the morning. Dean dropped the couple with them before their apartment on Nob Hill, then drove to Truly’s home. He was still worried about Jan, he was a bit tired, and he had paid little attention to Truly the past few hours. He parked in front of Truly’s place and got out without turning off the engine.

  She unlocked her front door, then turned to him with a smile. “Enjoy yourself?”

  “Sure. I’m glad you asked me. Nice bunch of friends you have.”

  “I thought you’d like them.” She looked indecisively toward his car as she asked, “You wouldn’t care for a nightcap?”

  Dean chuckled and replied, “Thanks, but I’ve had more than enough already. Anyway — ” He paused, about to turn away, then his eyes snapped back to hers. What was she asking? Did she seriously want him to come up with her at that hour of the morning? What was cooking here, anyway? “Well,” he said, “if you insist on twisting my arm — ”.

  “No,” she laughed. “It was just an idea.”

  She held her hand out to him to bid him good night, but he noticed that she was making no move toward the door and seemed to be waiting for something, expectantly waiting, nervously waiting, almost fearful. Dean frowned and then his eyes opened wide. Kissing her good night had never entered his mind.

  He made a tentative move in her direction and she caught her breath, but she was still waiting. Well, I’ll be damned, he thought. He put an arm about her and pulled her slim body to his own and there was no resistance and her eyes closed and her head tilted back a little. Dean touched his lips lightly to hers and felt her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders and then about the back of his neck and her fingers tightening in his hair. A wildness swept through him and he held her tightly in his arms and crushed his lips fiercely on hers and she sighed faintly and was at once the responding yet passive female. It was a long kiss and in it was promise and submission.

  Dean was the first to step back. She ran her fingertips lightly over his cheeks and whispered, “Call me.” She turned and stepped through the doorway and the lock clicked softly behind her.

  Dean stood there for a long while staring at the door, still feeling her body and her lips crushed against his. He walked to his car in a daze and drove away in a numbed frame of mind. It had not been a casual kiss, nor had it been meant to be taken lightly. It was intended to stay with him. He wondered what would have happened if he had gone in for the nightcap, and his shocked brain refused to come up with the answer.

  When he arrived in his hotel room he found that Jan’s luggage was gone, as he had expected. He mixed a drink and then found a note on the bureau. It read simply:

  “There’s no accounting for tastes, but I guess she must be good in bed. Who would have thought it of the great Truly Moore?”

  He tossed the note aside and sat on the edge of the bed to sip at his drink. Jan had jumped to the wrong conclusion, of course, but, even so — A wild feeling of exultation swept suddenly through his body. Truly Moore and Dean Holt! Now, there was one for the book! A few years before, or even a few months ago, she would have paid no attention to him. Fifteen minutes ago she had been in his arms. He shook his head, baffled and puzzled and yet excited. Truly Moore, of all people. He finished his drink and then mumbled aloud, “I’ll be damned.”

  When he got up at noon Truly was still in his mind. He thought of her as he shaved and dressed and wondered if he should call her and arrange a date for the afternoon. She probably expected it. He could even stay over in the city for another night and leave for Salinas early Monday evening. But there was also a nagging worry in his mind concerning Jan. He found her note and read it through again and could find nothing in it to bother him, but he knew her too well
to hope that she would dismiss the incident lightly. She was too much like himself. She would find some way to get back at him.

  He put through a long-distance call to her home in Pebble Beach and learned that she had arrived there an hour before, but had gone out again. Now, what the devil would she do to even the score? Ruth? Of course, that was it. Somehow, some way, she would get at him through Ruth. It was a natural for a woman of Jan’s temperament. He reached for the telephone to call Ruth and dropped it. The best thing to do was to go home, learn what Jan was up to, if anything, and then counter it. That was the wise move.

  He reluctantly dismissed the idea of seeing Truly that day and packed his luggage. The hotel florist shop was open, so he bought more roses and had them sent to Truly’s San Francisco address with his card: “Have to hurry home on business. Let me know when you get back to Pebble Beach. We’ll get together. Dean.”

  He took his time driving south and arrived home shortly after three in the afternoon. It was a gray day, with fog heavy in the air and dripping in the trees. Teddy Mitsui brought the luggage in from the car and informed Dean that Mrs. Tinsley had telephoned a few moments before. Dean swore under his breath, thinking grimly that his hunch had been correct. Damn that Jan bitch. She had certainly wasted no time.

  He went into the library and paced the floor, trying to put together how Jan would feel and how she would go about using Ruth. But it was useless. He would have to see Ruth first and then depend on his ability to think fast.

  Ruth gave him no chance to think, fast or otherwise. He drove to her home and found her, as usual, in her bedroom, where she spent most of her time. She was draped dramatically over the chaise longue, there were tear stains in the make-up on her full cheeks, and in one hand a glass half full of straight gin. Dean approached her cautiously, a false, hearty smile plastered on his face like a grimacing mask.