Authors: Harold Robbins
She had already packed her bag and was starting toward the car when she heard the sound of footsteps in the sand. She turned back.
A yoimg man was running toward her. He was wearing white duck pants and a white knit shirt. His hair was light brown and curly in the ocean wind. "Miss!" he called. **Miss!"
She waited for him to come up. He was tall, and his eyes were light blue. His face was a little heavy and there were shght lines of dissipation around his mouth and eyes.
"I thought you would leave before I got here." His voice rasped heavily after his unaccustomed exercise. *'But I had to get some clothes on."
She didn't speak.
He smiled suddenly. "Man, am I out of condition! I can't catch my breath. I'm Gordon Paynter."
He watched her closely. She made no sign of recognizing the name. She stiU didn't speak.
"I've seen you swimming several times. People generally don't come this far up the beach. It's too lonely here." He was breathing easier now.
Her voice was low. "That's why I like it. I don't want to be bothered by people."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just thought it would be nice if—"
"Thanks, Mr. Paynter," she said quickly. "It was nice of you. Maybe some other time." She turned away.
"Let me walk to your car with you," he said. "I've seen you somewhere, I'm sure. Was it at the Senator's party?"
She looked at him swiftly. His face was open and free of guile. He didn't look like the type who attended those stags. He was just fishing. She smiled slowly. "I don't think we've met, Mr. Paynter."
"You're sure. Miss, er—Miss—?"
She didn't answer. When they reached the car, she threw her bag into the back seat and climbed in.
"You're from New York," he said, looking at the license plate. "I am, too. Maybe we met up—"
"No, Mr. Paynter." She turned on the ignition. "We've never met, I'm sure."
"Look, Miss—Miss—" He gave up waiting for her to supply her name. "I hope you won't let me drive you away from the beach."
'"You won't," she said quickly. "I like it here."
"Maybe you'll come to lunch tomorrow then?" he asked, encouraged.
The motor roared as it caught. "Maybe," she laughed. "Why don't you ask me tomorrow, Mr. Paynter?" The car moved away.
He stood at the edge of the road looking after it. He scratched his head. Strange girl. She didn't soiind as if she had ever heard of him. He wondered if she was putting on an act. He shook his head as he turned back to the house. Maybe he would find out tomorrow.
Chapter 7
WHEN she got to the beach the next morning, she blinked her eyes in amazement. A table stood on the sand, an umbrella over it. It was completely set with food, and Gordon Paynter stood next to it. * He grinned. "You're ten minutes late.'*
*1—uh—" She couldn't speak.
"I wasn't taking any chances. I had Tom set us up down here," he explained.
"It ^eems to me that you're goin' to a lot of trouble for nothing, Mr. Paynter,'* she said.
"I don't think so. Miss No-name," he said,
"What'd you call me?" she asked.
"Miss No-name,'* he answered quickly. "I kind of like it. Makes you very mysterious."
She smiled slowly. "I don't think I'm very mysterious.'*
"Any girl without a name is mysterious in Miami.'* He turned to the table. "I hope you like shrimp. Tom makes the meanest shrimp salad."
229
"I love shrimp," she said. "Good," he said, sitting down. "Let's eat." She dropped her robe on the beach. "I'd like to swim first."
"Okay," he said. He stood up and took off his shirt. He dropped his trousers into the sand beside her robe. He was wearing a bright yellow pair of shorts. "Let's go."
He followed her down to the water. She dove into a breaker and came up sputtering. "The water's cold," she shouted back to him, her teeth chattering.
He griimed. "I'll speak to Tom about it. I'U see if we can run some hot-water pipes down here for you."
"Crazy man," she laughed, her back to the breakers. A big wave broke behind her and tumbled her to her knees. She felt his hands grab her under the shoulders and lift her to her feet. She stood there staring into his face.
His eyes were serious. "Now that I've saved your life, miss, do you think you can teU me your name?"
She caught her breath. There was something about his eyes that reminded her of Mike. They had the same decency about them, the same gentleness in the way they looked at her. She smiled slowly. "I guess it's only poUte," she said.
He nodded, still holding her. "It's only polite."
"Flood," she said, "Mary Flood."
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Flood," he said. He kissed her cheek quickly and let her go. "Very pleased to meet you. Miss Flood."
"I never ate so much in my life, Gordon," she said, pushing her plate away from her.
He smiled. "Tom will be happy. He likes people to enjoy his food."
"You can tell him for me that it's the greatest," she said, grinning.
"More coffee?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, thanks. I've had it." She looked at her watch. "Golly! It's after one. I've gotta run!"
"What about tonight, Mary?" he asked. "Have we got a date?"
"Uh-uh," she said. "Fd like to, but I can't."
"Why?" he asked.
"I've gotta work," she said.
"Tomorrow night, then?"
She shook her head. "No nights. That's when I work."
"What do you do?" he asked curiously.
"My girl friend and I have a routine," she said carefully. "We work a different club every night."
"Where are you working tonight?" he asked. "I'll come and see you."
"I don't know," she said quickly. "We're a fill-in. We wait at the agent's place until we get a call. When some act doesn't show up, then we rush over and go on."
"Oh," he said. "Maybe some time when you know in advance you'll tell me."
She nodded. "I will, Gordon." She picked up the bag from the sand beside her. "Thanks for the lunch."
"Let me carry it to the car for you," he said, taking the bag from her.
"Okay."
They walked slowly to the car. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.
She looked down at her feet in the sand. She had already made up ber mind. She wasn't coming back to this beach. Ever. She would have to find another place to swim. "Sure," she said. ^
They were at the car now. He opened the door for her, and she got inside. He put the bag on the seat beside her. "Thanks for everything, Gordon," she said.
•*Thank you, Mary."
She held out her hand. He took her by surprise. Instead of shaking it, he held it to his lips. "Until tomorrow," he said.
He let go of her hand and she turned on the ignition. The motor roared. "Good-by, Gordon," she said, "YouVe been real sweet. Thanks again."
She came into the apartment himiming. Joe and Evelyn were sitting at the table having coflEee. Joe looked up at her. "What do you feel so good about?"
"I just feel good, thaf s all," she said. "Some guy bought me lunch."
Joe laughed harshly. "He'd better be good for more than limch. I just got the word from my contact. We're shut down for a couple of weeks."
Mary looked at him. "What do yuh mean?"
"We gotta lay low. The cops are gettin' hot."
"Oh." Mary sat down at the table. She looked at her fingernails carefully. "What're we gonna do?" she asked.
Joe shot a quick glance at Evelyn. Without speaking, he got up and went into the bedroom.
Mary looked over at her. "What's with him?"
Evelyn shrugged her shoulders. "You know Joe," she said. "He's such a sensitive guy about some things.'*
Mary laughed. Evelyn's words were even funnier to her because of the seriousness with which they were spoken. "The only thing he's sensitive about," she said, "is his waUet."
Evelyn didn't see the humor. "Yeah, that's it,"' she
agreed. "He's ashamed to ask you for the dough to pick us up outta here an' go to New Orleans."
Mary's eyes opened wide. "What happened to his dough? He gets half of everything we make."
Evelyn didn't meet her gaze. "It's gone. The track. Other reasons." She smiled at Mary. "I told him not to worry. That if you had any dough you'd be glad to put it up for us."
Mary's face was straight. "I got about twenty-two bucks in my bag. He can have that, if it'll help."
A look of disappointment came into Evelyn's eyes. "That all? What about the rest of the dough? You must have a couple of hundred dollars around. You never blew any of it."
Mary smiled. "I spent it on clothes. It wasn't much when yuh go shoppin'."
Joe's voice came angrily from the bedroom door. "I tol' yuh, Evelyn, she ain't goin' to give us nothin'. We been treatin' her too good. There's only one way to make a broad like that understand who's boss." He came threateningly toward Mary.
Calmly she reached into her pocketbook and took out the switch knife she had bought on her first shopping-trip. She looked up into his eyes steadily as she pressed the button, flipping out the blade. Its sharp, shining edge reflected all the light in the room. "Did Evelyn ever tell yuh how come I got sent up to that school?" she asked in a quiet voice.
Joe stopped short, his face flushed. He looked at his girl questioningly.
Evelyn's face was white. "She cut up her stepfather pretty bad."
He looked down at Mary. Idly she began to clean he? nails with the blade. He turned back to Evelyn. "Fine class of friends you pick,** he said in a disgusted voice. **1 thought you said she was a high-class dame."
f
Chapter 8
SHE went to her room early and read awhile before going to sleep. The low hum of conversation came to her through the closed door. She smiled to herself. Joe had taken the twenty-two dollars without a murmur. She wondered what they were going to do next. At last she turned off the light and went to sleep. Time enough to worry tomorrow.
Bright sunlight was tumbling through the open window when she awakened. She rolled over on the bed and stretched. It was great going to bed at a decent hour. She had almost forgotten what it was like. She climbed out of bed and picked up her housecoat from the chair. There were no closets in this small room, only in the big room which Joe and Evelyn shared.
Slipping into it, she walked into the other room. Her brows knitted in puzzlement. The bed was empty. It hadn't been slept in. She walked over to the window and looked out. The car was gone too.
She went to the sink and filled the coflfeeppt, still thinking. They must have gone out last night and not yet returned. She turned on the burner under the coffee and walked to the closet
It was empty. All the clothing was gone. Quickly she opened the dresser drawers. Everything was gone. She swore to herself silently. The only clothing in the whole apartment was what she had on at the moment. A nightgown, a cheap housecoat, and a pair of mules. They had taken all her clothes, even the bathing-suit.
The coffee was bubbling. She poured herself a cup and sat down to think. Idly she reached for the package of cigarettes that was always on the table. Even that was gone. She went into the bedroom and took the package from her purse.
A knock came at the door. She opened it. The landlord was standing there. "Yes?" she asked.
A short, thick-set man, he looked at her from imder bushy eyebrows. "Your friends are gone," he said.
She stood in the doorway. "Yeah," she said.
He made a move to come into the apartment. She blocked his way. "They said you'd square the rent," he said, trying to look over her shoulder and see what was left in the apartment.
"How much do they owe jmh?" she asked.
"Three weeks," he said, his eyes not meeting her gaze. "Ninety bucks."
She couldn't tell whether he was lying. If he. was telling the truth, Joe had been pocketing her share of the rent. "He told me he had paid you up to last week," she said.
His eyes turned shrewd. "Got the receipts?"
"They must be here somewhere," she said.
He knew she didn't have them. When he had heard the
motor start in the middle of the night, he had come out of his room in a hurry. He always slept with one ear tuned in on the tenants. You had to be like that in the furnished-apartment business or you'd soon be without your shirt. Someone was always trying to con you out of your rent money.
The man and the girl were putting their bags in the car. *'Hey!" he said, tying his bathrobe around him. "Where're you goin'?"
The man turned to him. "We're checkin' out.'L
"What about my rent?" he asked.
"Your rent is okay," the man said. "The blonde is still there. She ain't comin' with us."
"How do I know she's got the dough?" he demanded.
The man looked over at his girl frientf quickly, then took the landlord's arm and led him behind the car where she couldn't hear them. "She's got dough," he whispered. "You can sock her for a couple of weeks, not only this one."
Unconsciously the landlord lowered his voice. "But you got the receipts.'*
The man chuckled and took a few slips of paper from his pocket. "Now you got 'em back."
The landlord looked down at his hand. They were the printed rent receipts for the last few weeks.
The man chuckled again. "I gotta get out. You know how dames are. My girl is jealous, an' the blonde won't leave me alone." He looked at the la;idlord as if he had a sudden idea. "You might even—"
The landlord felt his mouth go dry. He had seen her go down to the car in her bathing-suit. "D'ya think?" he asked.
The man nodded. "Easy," he said.
The landlord stood there indecisively. Actually, the rent
238 79 PARK AVE]
was only two days behind. "How do I know?" he asked
The man put his hand confidentially on his shoulder. "Y' can't miss," he said. "The kid's got round heels. A real nympho, can't do without it. All you gotta do is show it to her."
The landlord took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, stepping back. "I'll take a chance."
He watched the car drive off into the night and then went back info his room. Even if the man were wrong, the worst that could happen was that he would pick up an extra few bucks. . . .