Authors: Harold Robbins
A silence feU around the rpom at his words. They looked at Marja curiously, waiting for her reaction. Ostere's girls were no secret.
Marja kept her eyes wide as she answered. "I'd love to," she said. "But unfortunately I can't right now. You see, I
suffer from a dancer's occupational hazard at the moment."
"What occupational hazard?" the columnist spoke loudly, almost triumphandy. "I never heard of any."
"You don't know very much, do you?" Marja asked sweedy. "Didn't you ever hear of sore feet?"
The gust of laughter that swept the room eased the tension, and Ostere patted her shoulder and whispered: "Good girl."
The guests began to leave about two thirty, and by three o'clock Marja and Ostere were alone again. He sank into a chair and looked up at her. "My God!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad that's over for this week."
She was puzzled. "If you don't like it, why do you do it?"
He smiled. "I must, my dear. It's business. Besides, they would be disappointed if I didn't. It's become a weekly custom."
"You mean this happens every week?" she asked.
He nodded. "New York wouldn't be the same without Tuesday midnight at Jack Ostere's." His voice held a note of pride.
She shook her head. It was beyond her. She didn't see what difference it made whether anybody came or not. "It's tune I was going, Mr. Ostere," she said, suddenly reverting to formality.
He looked up with what he thought was an appealing expression. "Must you go?" he asked archly. "I've got lots of room here."
Her eyes were cold. "I have to, Mr. Ostere. My father's waiting up for me."
He jumped to his feet. "Of course," he said. "I should have realized." He reached into his pocket for a bill, which he pressed into her hand.
She didn't look at it. *Thank you very much, Mr. Ostere," she said, holding out her hand. "I had a very good time."
He pressed her hand. "I enjoyed having you here, my dear. I hope you'll come again. Next week, maybe."
She hesitated. "I can't say. I'd have to check with Mr. Martin."
He smiled as he walked her to the door. "Don't worry about Joker. I'll talk to him."
"Good night, Mr. Ostere."
"Good night, Marja.'*
The elevator door opened and she stepped into the car. She waved at Ostere, still standing in his doorway, and the elevator door closed on his answering smile. It wasn't imtil then that she peeked at the bill tighdy clutched in her left hand.
A gasp of surprise parted her lips. It was twenty dollars —as much as she made in a whole week's work. She slipped it into her purse quickly, wondering whether he had made a mistake.
The doorman's face held an expression of surprise when she came out of the building. "Cab, ma'am?" he asked.
She stared at him for a moment. Then she shrugged her shoulders. Why not? She was loaded.
Chapter 18
IT WAS three thirty when the cab stopped in front of her door. She got out and started up the steps.
"Marja!" A figure stepped from the shadows near the doorway.
"Mike! What are you doing here?**
His voice was unhappy. "I was waiting for yuh. I was worried. Are you all right?"
She lit a cigarette. The match flared, ill umina ting her face briefly. "I'm okay.**
"I waited down at the Golden Glow imtil half past twelve," he said, his voice growing unhappier. 'Then I asked an' they told me you left early. I came here thinking you weren't feeling well, but your father said you hadn't come home yet''
•*You didn't have to wait,'* she said quickly. "I went to a party."
"Where?"
**Jack Ostere's," she answered without thinking. "You don't know him," she added.
"How come?" he asked.
"Joker asked me to go."
His voice was low. "I don't like it.**
"Why not?" She was annoyed and her voice betrayed it
"I just don't like you doing it, that's all," he said. "He's got no right sending you out on things hke that."
She was angry now. "Nobody asked you what you thought," she flared.
His voice was stubborn. "You shouldn* 've gone."
"If you didn't hang aroun' spyin' on me," she said angrily, "you never would've known."
"I'm not spying on you, Marja," he said in a hurt, low voice. "I was scared something might have happened to you.'*
Her voice was cold. "Now that you see I'm okay, you can go home. Yuh're beginnin' to bother me!" She ran up the steps into the hall, leaving liim standing in the street looking after her.
He stood there a moment. Then, a strange sadness in him, he turned and began to walk home. There were times when he felt that he didn't know her at all.
Peter was sitting at the table, the inevitable can of beer in front of him. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes. "Where you been?" he asked.
"Workin'," she answered briefly.
His eyes took in her dress. "Your boy frien', he says you left early. You didn't come home."
She didn't answer, but started through the kitchen to her room. He was out of his chair quickly, blocking her path. "Where you been in that dress?'*
She stared into his eyes levelly. "Workin', I said."
His hands gripped her shoulders. "Like that? With your tits hangin' out?"
*This is my working clothes," she answered. "I was too tired to change, so I came home in them." She tried to shake off his grip. "Lay off. I gotta return it tomorrow. It ain't mine."
His hand fell from her shoulder swifdy. Before she could stop him, he had opened her purse and spilled its contents on the table. The twenty-dollar bill lay on top of the pile. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. •*Where'd you get this?"
She stared at him. "It was a tip.'*
"They don't give tips like this for just dancing," he said.
She didn't answer.
His hand lashed out. "Slut!"
She spun half around and stumbled against the wall, a white blotch on her face. The snap of her shoulder strap opened and her dress began to fall. She clutched it to her breast
His voice was harsh. "I told your mother what you were, but she didn't beUeve me. It's a good thing she's not here to see this."
Her voice was expressionless. "Good for you, you mean."
Ifis hand began to pull the belt from around his waist He moved toward her menacingly.
She ducked around him and pulled a sharp meat knife from the table drawer. She held it, its gleaming edge pointing viciously at his face. Her teeth drew back over her Ups in a snarl, "Come on!" she taunted. 'Try somethin'!"
He stared at the knife, then at her. Her eyes were flaming
with hate. He stepped back. "Marjal You don't know what you're doin'!"
She grinned. "Wanna bet?'*
He took a deep breath. The girl was mad. Cautiously he backed away from her. "Okay, okay," he said anxiously.
"The money." Her eyes were still on his face.
He tossed the twenty-dollar bill on the table. She shoveled it quickly into her bag along with the other things.
Her face was still and grim. "If yuh ever come near me," she said in a low, deadly voice, "or try to touch me, so help me God, I'll kiU yuh."
He didn't answer. He had no doubt that she meant every word she said. Her door closed behind her, and he turned to the icebox with a suddenly trembling hand.
Marja leaned her back against the closed door and shut her eyes. It was as if a thousand years had passed since her mother had died, yet it was only a litde more than a month. She opened her eyes and looked down at the knife she held in her hand.
A cold chill ran through her and she shuddered convulsively. She dropped the knife on the bed and began to undress. She didn't notice it again until she was about to get into bed. Then, thoughtfully she shpped it under the corner of her mattress. She never went to bed after that without checking first to see that it was there.
Chapter 19
FROM that time on, she went where Joker sent her. Gradually she came to trust him. She never had trouble with any of the men she met. They were more respectful to her than the boys in school
The boys were always ganging up on her and grabbing at her. She didn't mind them. She felt superior in many ways to the children in school around her. What did they know of what was going on in the world?
She began to see Mike less and less as the winter wore on. Several times she made dates with him and then had to break them because Joker had a job for her. Since the night he had waited at her house, he had stopped waiting for her at the dance hall. Then one evening she was called to the phone at the dance hatt,
"Hello," she said into the speaker.
"Marja?" the familiar voice spoke in her ear. "It's Mike."
A sudden warmth came into her. She hadn't realized until this minute how much she had missed him. She smiled into the phone. "How are yuh, Mike?"
"Fine," he answered. "And you?"
"Okay," she answered.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said, "but I've been busy up at school."
"I'm glad you called, Mike," she said softly. "I missed you."
His voice was suddenly hght and happy. "You did?"
"Honest, Mike."
"Meet me when you get through work?" he asked.
"Sure," she answered quickly.
"Downstairs. Same place. First car off the corner," he said quickly.
"Okay."
"Marja?" He hesitated.
"What, Mike?"
"You won't stand me up this time?" he pleaded.
"I'll be there, Mike," she said as she put down the telephone.
He was leaning against a car when she came out. He straightened up as she walked toward him. She looked up into his face. He seemed tired and thin. "Hi," she said.
A crooked smile split his face. "Hi."
They stood there staring at each other for a moment. Marja broke the silence. "Aren't you gonna ask me for a cup of coffee?"
"Sure," he said. "You took the words outta my mouth."
She started toward the drugstore, but he took her arm and steered her to a restaurant near by. They entered and sat down at a table.
She looked down at the white tablecloth. "Boy, we're livin'."
He grinned. "Nothin' but the best."
But she noticed he was careful in ordering. "What you been doin'?" she asked.
"Nothin' much," he answered. "School. Studying. Working."
"You lost weight," she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I was getting too heavy, anyway."
The waiter put the coffee and buns in front of them. She took a sip of coffee and waited for him to speak.
"How is Uttle Peter?" he asked.
"Fine." She.smUed. "He's walking and beginning to talk. He calls me 'Ja-Ja.'" She noticed he didn't ask about her stepfather.
"How's the job going?" he asked.
"Okay," she answered.
He was silent as he watched her drink the coffee, but he didn't touch the cup in front of him. "You're not drinkin' your coffee," she said.
"I'm not hxmgry," he answered. He got to his feet abruptly, throwing a bill on the table. "C'mon, let's go."
She followed him out into the street. "What's wrong, Mike?"
He looked into her face. "I got a message for yuh," he said expressionlessly.
She was puzzled. "For me?"
He nodded. "From Ross. He said to tell yuh he'd be home next month."
Her hand fell from his arm. "Is that why you called me? To give me a message?"
He didn't answer. His face was grim.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked sarcastically. "Do somersaults?"
He was still quiet.
She stopped. He took two steps before he realized she wasn't with him. "What?" he asked in a puzzled tone.
"Okay, so I got the message," she said in a cold voice. 'Thanks."
"He still thinks you're his girl," he said.
Her eyes were wide in the night. "What do you think?"
He stood there miserably. "I don't know what to tliink. He seems so sure of himself."
She backed into a dark doorway. "Mike," she said.
"Yes?"
"Cmere, Mike."
He followed her into the doorway. She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled his face down to her. She kissed him. At first he stood frozen, then his arms tightened and pulled her close to him. They stood there for moments while rockets exploded in his brain.
Finally she drew back. All her body was tingling from the tightness of his embrace. "Now what do you think, Mike?"
"But you never said anything," he said confusedly. "You didn't act Uke you wanted to see me. Like the last time you stood me up. I waited over an hour for you to show up, but you didn't."
Her eyes were green in the night and glowed like a cat's. "I gotta work, Mike. I need the dough. You know that."
"There's just so much you can do for money," he said.
She shook her head. "I don't do anything wrong. I just want enough so I don't have to live like my mother did. I saw what happened to her."
"But you never— ^
"Shut up," she said softly, pressing her fingers to his lips. **Yuh talk too much. You never tried to kiss me. I was won-derin' if there was somethin' the matter with you."
He smiled. It was as if his whole face lit up. He bent his face to her. "Maybe ifs just as well," he said. "I got that much more to make up for."
The street was quiet when they reached her house. The last winds of March were beating faintly at them as they stepped into the vestibule. She closed the door quietly and looked up into his face.
He stared down at her. His eyes were serious, and he spoke in a whisper. "I love yuh, Marja. Yuh know that, don't you?"
She nodded.
"I loved yuh since that day in the elevator, but I never thought you could see me. Ross has so much. I got nothin'."
"I never asked for anything," she said.
"I know," he answered. "But you can get anything you want. Ever}^ guy you meet is crazy for yuh."
She smiled slowly. "I know," she said contentedly. "But I don't care about them. They're all jerks. They all think they can get something out of me, but I ain't givin'."
He grinned teasingly. "I'm a jerk, too?"
"You're the biggest of them all," she taunted gently. "Except me. I go for you."