by Alan Handley
“I guess he’s right. But tell him for me there’s not going to be a next time. You meet such unpleasant people. One Bobby is enough. How do people manage to mess themselves up like that? How wrong can you get?”
“I guess he just couldn’t quite kiss his elbow.”
“Now that’s a bright remark. What’s it mean?”
“What? You never heard that saying when you were a kid?”
“Certainly not. What utter nonsense. Kiss whose elbow?”
“Such a dull childhood you must have had. Why your own elbow of course. When I was a little girl I wanted terribly to be a boy and they used to tease me by telling me if I kissed my elbow I’d turn into one. Or if you were a boy you’d turn into a girl. I tried and tried to kiss it but I could never quite reach it. I guess Bobby tried and tried, too, but he could never quite reach it, either.” I started, like a dope to try it. Maggie grabbed my arm. “No, Timmy, that’s the whole point—it’s physically impossible. But don’t even try, I like you the way you are.”
“So I gathered, mousing around with Lieutenant Heffran, stealing all my thunder about loose ends and now buckety-buckety off to Mexico.” I stood up. Everything was flat, empty. I was tired. Tired of kidding myself. “You’d better hurry if you’re going to catch that plane.”
“Oh my God, yes. Help me get these things in a taxi, will you?”
What else could I do? It took three trips to get all the grips to the elevator and three more to get them out on the sidewalk. I flagged a cab and helped the driver spread them around. Maggie got in the back.
“Well, have a good time,” I said sourly. “Send me a postcard when you hit Acapulco.” The driver shifted gears and I started to close the door.
“Wait a minute, Driver,” said Maggie. “Hop in, Tim.”
“What for?” I didn’t think I could face watching her plane take off.
“Oh,” she said, “didn’t I tell you?”
“Didn’t you tell me what?”
“You’re coming to Mexico with me.”
“I’m what?”
“You’re coming to Mexico with me.”
“You’re nuts. Go ahead, Driver.” He shifted gears again.
“Wait a minute, Driver,” called Maggie. “Don’t be difficult, Tim. It’s all arranged. I’ve got the tickets and the reservations and everything. We can have a whirl. Hop in.”
“You must be out of your mind. I can’t do it, Maggie. Go on, Driver.”
The driver clashed the gears again.
“Wait a minute, driver,” said Maggie.
“Now look, lady,” said the driver. “Fun’s fun, but nobody wants to get hysterical. Are you going or aren’t you?”
“Your flag’s down, isn’t it?” said Maggie, regarding him hotly.
“Yes, lady, but…”
“And your little meter is working, isn’t it?”
“Yes, lady, but…”
“Then relax.” The driver sighed and picked up a tabloid from the seat and unfolded it over his face and leaned back and went to sleep. “Now, then, Timmy, if you’re worried about clothes and things, we can buy anything you need. It’s your reward for saving my life.”
“It isn’t that, Maggie. It’s…I don’t know but I just can’t.”
“Give me one good reason.”
“There’s hundreds, but, Maggie, why do you have to go?”
“Give me one good reason why I should stay.” There wasn’t one, now that Operation Hollywood was a complete bust. If I’d gotten that start—and I almost had…almost…opening night—I was going to give her one good reason for staying…a long, long time…But now…
“I guess there isn’t any. Goodbye, Maggie.” I wanted to kiss her goodbye more than anything else in the world, but I knew if I did I wouldn’t ever leave her. And I knew that I had to now.
“You’re sure you won’t change your mind?”
“I’m sorry, Maggie, but I can’t.”
“I think I knew all along that you wouldn’t.”
“Maggie…” I hesitated.
“Yes, Tim?” she said eagerly.
“Maggie, do you like bulldozers?”
“Why, of course, I’m mad about them. What are they?”
“Never mind,” I said. I realized it was hopeless.
“Oh, dear. Did I say the wrong thing? I’m sure I could grow to love them if I only knew what they were.” I tried to smile. “I did say the wrong thing, didn’t I?”
“No. I’m afraid you said the right thing.” I slammed the door. “Goodbye, my darling.” I leaned in the open front window to wake up the driver. I pulled the tabloid off his face and he woke up and sleepily started to shift gears again, but something on the front page caught my eye. “Hey, wait a minute.”
“Aw, mister, have a heart.”
“Let me see that paper.” I grabbed it through the window and looked at the front page. My hands began to shake. “Hey, Maggie, look.” I opened the door and jumped in beside her. “Look at this.” I started to get excited. “My picture’s on the front page. My picture, right on the front page. See?” And there it was. Right next to a woman who had shot her whole family, including the dog.
“Let me see,” said Maggie and snatched it from me. She read the caption aloud. “Actor Traps Fiend. Story on page three.” To hell with the story on page three. What I couldn’t get over was the photograph. It wasn’t one with bandages. They had dug up one of the Trindler glamor-puss ones and even as a newspaper cut it looked fine.
“Listen, Timmy…. Listen to what it says….” And she read the story aloud. There were other pictures, even Maggie’s, other names and marking spots but I got top billing. Me! Operation Hollywood hadn’t failed after all. It had only gone through a strategic withdrawal and was starting up again. The show wasn’t postponed, the paper said. Miss Randall was going to take it over, and it would open in Wilmington as scheduled.
“Oh, Timmy, I think it’s wonderful.”
“Wonderful. Hell, it’s perfect. Don’t you see what this means…. I’ve got that start…a little publicity…it’s what I’ve been praying for.”
“I think it’s fine.”
“Maggie, you’re not going to Mexico. Don’t you see there’s a reason now?”
“Oh, you mean because the show is opening?”
“Guess again. ”
“I can’t imagine.”
“We’re going to get married.”
“Well, it’s about time.”
“You mean you don’t mind?”
“Oh, Timmy, you fool. I’d practically given up. There’s just so much a girl can do.”
“Good. That’s settled, then. But it’s not going to be easy.”
“You’re telling me?”
“There are a couple of conditions.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“One…we live on my money.”
“I think that’s wonderful. Have you got any?”
“Well, maybe not right now, but don’t you see what this means…Maybe movie offers…I’m rich…. At least I’ll have a hundred and twenty-five bucks a week in the show.”
“Don’t boast, Timmy. So’ll I. But do we have to live in that dreadful Casbah?”
“Yes, until we can find anything better that I can afford.”
“Please can I buy my own clothes?”
“Well…”
“You can pick them out,” she said hurriedly.
“Well, temporarily,” I said magnanimously, “but only temporarily. Is it a deal?”
“Ya got me, pal. It’s a deal.” I kissed her for sixty-five cents on the meter.
“Maggie,” I said suddenly.
“Mmm-hmm?”
“We better call up and cancel those tickets.” You have to pay attention to those things when you start having responsibilities.
“Maggie. Look at me.” She looked at me and I had trouble remembering what I was going to say. “Maggie, I’m not so sure you ever had any tickets for Mexico at all.”
ISBN: 978 1 472 05168 4
KISS YOUR ELBOW
© 1948 Alan Handley
Published in Great Britain 1948
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
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