by Ann Bannon
“Turn it all the way right,” said a crisp female voice.
They saw the cook, still stirring her witch’s brew.
“Thanks,” Beebo said, and they got out at last with a grateful gasp. Pat began to laugh, until he saw Beebo put her head in her hands while they waited for an elevator.
“What’s the matter, honey?” he said. “Was Venus bitchy? I’ll go back and throw something at her.”
“After the bussing you got?” Beebo said.
“How about you?” Pat asked softly. And when she didn’t answer, he put his arms around her, enjoying the contact, standing with her till the elevator arrived.
The wicked witch peered at them through the glass in the kitchen door.
Beebo was gloomy all the way home, answering Pat laconically.
“I didn’t even leave a note,” Pat lamented. “Jack will snatch me bald-headed.”
“Never. He’s too fond of those blond curls.”
“Not so fond he won’t clobber me when we get home. It’s late.”
“You’ve got Jack and I’ve got Paula,” Beebo said, and they brooded about it.
Beebo parked in front of Jack’s apartment. Pat looked up at his windows. “The lights are blazing,” he reported. “And so is Jack, you can bet on it.”
“I never saw him mad before,” Beebo said, looking at him quizzically. Pat’s apprehension seemed silly to her.
“He’s not in love with you, my friend,” Pat said, and made her wonder at the distortions—some good, some bad—that love could work in the lover.
“He probably called Marie. She’ll tell him you’re with me,” she said.
“That’ll only make him frantic. He thinks we’re a couple of lambs in the lion’s den.”
“Maybe he’s right,” Beebo said. She had never felt so exhilarated and confused and afraid and eager for God-knew-what in her life.
They hesitated with a common reluctance before the apartment door. “You go first,” Pat said. “You’re the bravest. If he throws anything, so help me, I’m going to run for it.”
Beebo chuckled at him, and then turned the cold brass handle. She opened the door with a quick swing that revealed only the empty living room. They walked in. “Jack?” they said together, and a pile of newspapers on the sofa rolled over and sat up. Jack was very drunk.
“Hello, you two beautiful dolls,” he said. They looked at one another. “Paula was here,” he told Beebo. “We got loaded together. If you don’t want her, I’m going to marry her.”
Beebo picked up Jack’s empty glass and the bottle on the coffee table and poured herself a shot. She gave the Scotch to Pat. “Have some. Jack won’t mind, will you, darling?” She imitated the famous Bogardus inflection.
“Why should I?” he said, eyes on Pat. “Did you run into Venus while you were lunching at 21?”
“We went up to her apartment. She threw a pizza at Pasquini last night.”
“I heard all about it. Marie was celebrating when I dropped in. Well, it must have been a jolly reunion.” He saw the smudge on Pat’s lips. “Looks like the goddess and the gay boy are starting a new trend. You’re solid lipstick from the nose down.”
Pat reproached Beebo instantly. “My God, why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
“I wasn’t looking at you. I’m sorry.”
“Where’s yours?” Jack said, turning to her. “Or wasn’t this ladies’ day?”
“I wiped it off,” Beebo said touchingly, and Jack didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
“Something for everyone,” he said. “She must be a Democrat. And what was Patrick doing while you and Venus occupied the loveseat? Taking notes?”
“Watching TV,” Pat said casually. “With Toby. Her son.”
“I hope he was friendly,” Jack said.
“Very,” Pat replied, irritated by Jack’s jealousy.
“I’ll bet. Especially if you curled up in his lap.”
“He’s a nice little kid, Jackson,” Beebo said, surprised at him. Jack was usually so patient and gentle and funny. “He’s just fourteen, very mixed-up and very straight.” Jack’s spite amused her a bit and made her sorry for him. She had never seen him hurt before. He was comical, but the pain showed too and roused her affection for him.
“He’s a baby, and I don’t go for babies,” Pat said. “It’s illicit.”
“Oh, let’s be licit, by all means,” Jack said. “I can see the both of you, sitting there watching Captain Kangaroo together. Just a pair of Babes in Boyland.”
“Honest to God, Mann, you just bug the hell out of me!” Pat exploded in sudden wrath.
“With pleasure. Till you scream for mercy,” Jack snapped.
“Jack, it was your idea that Pat give up his job,” Beebo said. “I took him with me today for fun. It’s better than having him cruise the streets all day. Admit it.”
After a pause, Jack said, “Okay. You’re a pair of worms…but I’m a dirty bird. I’m sorry. Call Paula, she’s frantic.”
Beebo hesitated so long that Jack looked at her and added, “In case you’ve forgotten, the phone’s in the kitchen.”
“I know where it is…. I can’t call her. I don’t know what to say,” Beebo said, and took down another shot like cough medicine.
Jack noticed her unsteady hands and brooding eyes. “Say, ‘Hello, Paula. It’s me, Beebo. I’m home,’” he suggested. While his attention was on Beebo, Pat went over and sat down quietly beside him on the couch. He took care not to touch him.
Beebo folded dejectedly onto the floor. “I’m just not sure how I feel, all of a sudden,” she said, letting her forehead drop into her hand.
“You didn’t fall for Toby, did you?” Jack said, ignoring the tentative hand Pat put on his knee. “This seems to be the night to go straight.”
“Don’t make lousy jokes, Jack.”
“All right, pal. What happened with Venus? Did she really kiss you? Was it that great?” True to form, he pushed his own chagrin aside a while to worry about her.
“She hates everybody but Toby. She can’t even like herself, and Toby’s the only human being she’ll ever love. How can such a lovely woman be so messed up?” Beebo mourned.
“I see she’s messed you up a bit, too. Beebo, was it you who was cheating tonight, and not Pat? Are you falling for Venus? Because if you’re not, you’d go call Paula and laugh this off with her. You wouldn’t care who Venus loved or why.”
“I don’t know. Don’t ask me,” Beebo said, crushed almost to despair by the shame of it—of being a pushover for a professional temptress, and too mesmerized by her even to phone Paula, whose love for her had become a torment to them both.
Pat leaned against Jack cautiously and said, “Toby has seven yo-yos. We watched the Lone Ranger.”
“Okay,” Jack said, smiling into space. “Hey, Beebo. Hey!”
She had rolled over suddenly on her stomach to cry, her face in the scratchy rug. She shook her head to show she heard him but couldn’t stop.
Pat clucked softly at her. “She couldn’t have cared less about that woman till she checked out the boudoir. They were in there an hour. Beebo came out transformed.”
Beebo wept into the stiff wool pile. “I thought I wanted to apologize. But I really wanted…oh, God help me, I’m wild for her. She’s fabulous.”
Jack lighted a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke over Beebo’s back. “Well, that’s two nuts in the family: you and me. We fall in love with the wrong ones as if it were in the by-laws.”
Pat turned to stare at him. “Who’s in love?” he said.
“I am. With you.”
Pat began to smile. “Why the hell didn’t you say so?” he exclaimed. “You never said so.”
“I was waiting for Beebo to go first. Misery loves company.”
“Come on, you nut, you know I’m crazy about you,” Pat said, smiling at him. He leaned over. “Stick out your tongue,” he said. Jack obeyed. “It’s black. You’re lying, you don’t love me at
all.”
Jack began to laugh. Suddenly they forgot Beebo. It was the wonderful selfishness of love that swept them out of her world into their own; the selfishness that friends can only envy and forgive.
Beebo stood up after a while and wandered into the bedroom, wanting to give them some privacy and herself some relief from their pleasure. She lay down on the bed and saw Venus on the ceiling; shut her eyes and saw Paula and felt the tears start again. She stuffed her face into the pillow, beating it and crying Paula’s name. But when the fit passed, it was still Venus for whom her limbs ached and body burned; Venus whose face flamed in her brain and made her heart race.
Before she slept she thought of Jack and Pat, facing up to their love at last, and knew she had to move out. Yesterday she could have gone to Paula, even if it was premature. Today, there was again no place to go.
Beebo drove the truck to work with a thundering headache. She felt cut off from home and help; cut out—halfway at least—from Jack’s life. Venus wanted her to come back but only, Beebo was sure, to entertain herself. Paula wanted her, but to smother her with a love she couldn’t honestly accept, much as she respected and even wanted it.
At the shop she handed Venus’s autograph to Pete Pasquini. “Something for your memory book,” she said darkly.
He looked at it disinterestedly. “So how come you’re so cheerful this morning? Didn’t she throw nothing at you last night? She got a good right hand, that one.”
“She said to tell you she’s sorry,” Beebo said, refusing to look at him while she worked.
“Yeah? I think you’re the one was sorry. You didn’t do so good, hm?”
Beebo lifted a heavy can of peeled tomatoes, almost persuaded to heave it, when Marie’s voice broke in. “Beebo—a visitor. A young lady.”
Beebo put the can down, and a hand to her head. Paula. Holy God! I can’t face her. But she had to. She walked slowly to the front of the store, aware that Pete was trailing her at a discreet distance.
A tall dark-haired girl wheeled around and took off a pair of showy sunglasses. “Hello, Beebo,” she said. It was Mona.
Beebo could find nothing to say. Even “hello” was too much of a courtesy.
“I want some groceries. Over there on the counter—I’ve got most of them. I’m taking them to Paula. She didn’t feel much like going out today…for some reason.”
The thought of Paula, defenseless against Mona, was enough to crowd Beebo’s reluctance to see her little redhead right out of her mind. “I’ll take them over. I was going to see her at lunchtime anyway,” she said.
“I’m sure it’ll come as a surprise to Paula,” Mona observed, smiling at a display of spinach noodles.
Pete heard it and laughed his oily mirth to the canned fruits in the next aisle. Beebo wanted to strangle him. She shoved Mona’s five-dollar bill back at her and put the food for Paula on a shelf behind the counter. Mona had that high color on her face brought up by the excitement of willful malevolence. “I hear you and Pete are getting to be regular cronies,” she said in a syrupy voice. “Isn’t he a ray of sunshine, though?”
“You ought to know. He’s your sunshine, not mine,” Beebo said briefly.
“Pretty noble of you to pay for the groceries,” Mona said, sliding the bill back into her purse. “On your salary.” She gave Beebo a provocative stare that reminded them both of the night they met at the Colophon. A warm feeling arose in Beebo that was strictly physical and angered her.
Mona slunk down Pete’s aisle and Beebo heard them murmuring together. From the back of the shop she could see Pete making animated gestures as he told Mona something. Marie came out of the kitchen a minute to glance at them. “Ain’t that a pretty sight?” she said in a caustic whisper to Beebo. “The ‘Happiness Kids,’ Jack calls ’em. They was made for each other, them two.”
Beebo had to grin at the spunky little Frenchwoman.
Pete didn’t let Mona leave till he heard the motor of Beebo’s truck starting in the delivery yard. Beebo was backing out when he caught her. He put his head in the cab, forcing her to stop.
“Well?” she said impatiently.
“Bogardus just calls in,” he said. “For tonight—lasagna. You can deliver; I want no more in the face.” He waited for her reply, but she was gazing through the windshield, seeing nothing but that face, that face. So fair. So unfair! Pete slapped her knee and made her start. “You alive?” he said.
“I hear you.”
Pete squeezed her knee—the kind of grip known as a horse bite. It hurts and it tickles at the same time. Beebo wrenched her leg away and the truck lurched backward. Pete leaped agilely out of the way, laughing at her disgusted curse.
She drove off fuming, wondering what it was about him that made her think, when they met, that he never laughed. She would damn well quit, whether she had another job or not. But then she saw herself, jobless and homeless at one stroke. Everything had seemed so right and easy just a few weeks ago. Everything now seemed bewilderingly bleak.
She spent an hour with Paula at lunchtime, trying to explain by fits and starts how she had made friends with Toby, talked to Venus about him, and got home late, too tired to call.
“I’m sorry,” Beebo said, her voice soft with embarrassment. “That was plain selfishness. Please eat, honey; I brought you all this good food.”
“Because Mona Petry told you I was staying at home today.” Paula put a bite in her mouth as if it were a ball of cotton. There was little more said, and the silences between words became unbearable. They did not make love, they didn’t laugh. Beebo’s lapse of the previous night hung between them like a fog. She was almost too inhibited when it was time to go to kiss Paula. At last she leaned over and gave her a shy peck on the cheek. Paula accepted it with solemn dignity, but would not return it.
“May I see you tonight?” Beebo said.
“If you think you can put up with my mood.”
“I’m afraid the mood is my fault. Let me come over, please, Paula.”
Paula gave her a faint smile. “I won’t be very nice to you,” she said.
It was the first of many quiet cool nights, when Paula’s intense desire for Beebo, and Beebo’s unadmitted desire for Venus, kept them restrained and doubtful with each other.
Beebo picked Toby up the next day and spent the afternoon with him. He turned into a handy helper, carrying orders with her and keeping her busy with his talk. He was interested, as a child five years younger might have been, in the panorama of the city, especially the areas that were new to him. Though he lived there much of the time, he saw very little of New York.
He would fire a broadside of questions at Beebo and leave her wallowing in his wake, searching for answers, while he hurried on to set up the next bunch. Fortunately, it seemed more important to him to be able to ask than to get answers. Beebo didn’t want to disappoint him with her ignorance.
They became quite good friends in the following few weeks, and to Beebo’s surprise, they accomplished it without any sideline coaching from Venus. Venus, in fact, stayed out of sight, though she kept on ordering from Marie Pasquini. And Beebo, knowing, as Toby did not, that Venus was sacrificing her pleasure for his sake, was grateful to her.
Beebo dreaded facing her, even though it seemed inevitable sooner or later. And when it happened, Beebo foresaw her relationship with Paula going down the drain; her friendship with Toby smashed; and her self-respect, already dipping, destroyed completely.
It was something to be spared the encounter for a while. Everything in Beebo’s life felt very temporary and precarious to her. But at least she had a breathing space, a time to test her feelings before they were exposed to others.
Alone, she was miserable with the problems of where to live, who to live with, how to control her urgent new emotions. But with Toby, she forgot a little and studied his troubles instead. They kidded each other and they laughed a lot. And they talked. At first it was mostly about guns—Toby’s forte; or horses—Beebo’s. Boy tal
k. Getting-to-know-you talk. The necessary preliminaries to a heart-to-heart. And it did Beebo as much good as it did Toby.
When they first met, Toby had blurted some awkward and ugly things to Beebo about his life with Venus. He seized upon her empathy for him and used it brashly because for all he knew he would see her once and never again. And it might be years before somebody else came along who seemed able to understand it. It had to be someone Toby instinctively liked and respected or it wouldn’t ease his troubled young heart to bare it. So Beebo was special and he had grabbed her and said too much too fast.
So he back-pedaled into gun-talk, horse-talk, horseplay, and finally friendship, now that he could approach it more slowly. A little at a time, he unbent with her. He told her about the girls he knew in Bel-Air, California, where they lived when Venus was working in a film.
“I love it out there,” he said. “We have five horses. Leo rides with me. You’d love it. Say, maybe you could come out and take care of them for us. You know all about it from your dad. It’s too bad other girls are so square. You know, I took one riding once, and she was scared to death.”
“You just got the wrong one,” Beebo said. “Lots of girls like to ride.”
“Not the ones I know,” he said. “Or if they like to ride, they don’t like me.”
“You haven’t looked around enough.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Toby said. “The dumb ones can’t talk to you about anything. And if you find a decent one, you can’t talk to her. It’s awful.” He smiled ruefully while Beebo laughed at him, and then added, “Why can a guy talk to other guys but not to girls?”
“You talk to me,” she said.
“You’re different,” Toby said, with no inkling that he might have scraped a sore spot. He meant it as a compliment and she took it that way. “I don’t think I’ll ever love a girl, Beebo. You can’t trust them.”
“You think they’re all like your mother,” Beebo told him.
“They are.”
“No more than all men are the same.”
“According to my mother, all men are dirty dogs. That includes me. Sometimes I think the reason she named me Toby was because it makes me sound like an alley cat. Toby the Cat, and Leo the Lion. What a zoo she lives with. I wonder why she didn’t name me Fido. She treats me like a hound most of the time.”