Authors: Harold Robbins
She looked into his eyes. "You're doin' pretty good."
He nodded with satisfaction. "There's a lot of dough around, baby, and I'm in line for it."
"If the Army don't get you," she said.
He laughed. "They won't get me.'*
"You seem sure."
"It's easy to beat the draft if you know the right medics," he said.
"They can't help once you're down at Grand Central," she said. "All the notes in the world don't hold up there."
He tugged his ear lobe. "I've got draft insurance. A twenty-five-hundred dollar hole in my eardrum."
She shook her head. "You haven't changed a bit, Ross. Still got an angle for everything." Suddenly she was tired. Ross reminded her of times long past and of things she didn't want to remember. She reached for her scarf. "It's getting late, Ross. I think I'U go home."
"I'U take you," he said quickly. "My car's outside."
**Got gas?" she asked.
"^ure," he laughed. "This is Ross you're talkij;!' to, remember, honey?"
She had never got used to the dimout in the city and the way it made everything seem hushed and quiet She gave him her address and leaned back in the car as it sped
through the night. She closed her eyes, feeling far away from the people and places she knew.
It seemed she had been riding a long time when the car stopped. She opened her eyes. She wasn't home. "Ross!" she said sharply.
"Look, baby." He gestured toward the car window. "It's been a long time."
She turned and looked at the river, sparkling in the occasional flickers of light. Riverside Drive—where they had been together so many times.
She felt his arm move along the seat behind her, and turned to him. "Cut it, Ross. It has been a long time, an' yuh can't go back. Take me home."
She saw his mouth set in the petulant look she remembered as he started the car again. A few silent minutes later they were at her door.
Ross looked at her. "You could invite me in for a drink," he said. "Just for old times' sake."
"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Just one."
He followed her into the apartment. "There's liquor on the side table," she said.
She put his coat on a chair and went into the bedroom. A few minutes later she returned wearing a green velvet housecoat.
He looked up at her and smiled. "You're still the greatest."
"Thanks," she said dryly.
He wrinkled his brow quizzically. "What's eatin' you, baby? StUl mad over what happened between us so long ago''"
She shook her head. "Not any more, Ross Too much has happened to me. I can't be angry over that"
He reached for her arm, but she stepped out of reach.
"Then what is it? I still got that big yen for you I always had."
She smiled slowly. "I know. The same yen you have for all the girls."
His voice lowered. "It's different with you, baby. It's always been different."
"Yeah, Ross, yeah." Her voice was sarcastic.
He put down his drink and moved quickly. Catching her shoulders in his big hands, he held her still. Her eyes looked at him without fear. "Still the same little tease, ain't you, baby?"
"Still the same rough-action boy, ain't you, Ross?" she replied.
"I'm older now," he said. "You can't get rid of me as easily as you did the first time." He pulled her to him. Her arms went around his neck. He smiled. "That's better, baby." He bent his head to kiss her.
A sudden blinding pain seared through his temples. With a curse, he shpped to the floor and looked up at her. The pain was gone as soon as he let her go, but there was a dull ache in his neck. "You bitch!" he snarled. "What did you do?"
She smiled down at him. "A friend of mine in the service taught me. It's called pressure points. Judo."
He got to his feet and reached for his drink. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
Without answering, she turned to the sideboard and mixed herself a drink. He watched her. "What's that?" he asked.
"Cassis and soda," she said.
He made a face. "That's like medicine."
"I like it," she said.
He looked around the apartment. "Nice place you got here."
"Thanks," she said.
*'You must be doin' pretty good yourself."
"I make out."
"What Une are you in?" he asked curiously.
She stared at him for a moment. Just then the telephone began to ring. She walked over to it and picked it up. Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she looked right into his eyes. "I'm a whore," she said.
His breath seemed imprisoned in his chest. As if from a distance he heard her speak into the phone. "No, honey, not right now. I'm busy. Try tomorrow, will yuh?"
She put down the telephone and walked across the room and picked up his coat. She held it toward him. "Now, will yuh go, Ross? I'm tired."
He didn't move from where he stood. His eyes were still on her face. His hand went into his pocket and came out with a roU of bills. He snapped his fingers and the bills shot toward her and cascaded down around her. "I just bought the rest of the night," he said.
They lay quietly in the bed. The faint night sounds of the city seeped into the room through the closed windows. He turned toward her. The glow of her cigarette flickered, throwing a soft red glow on her face.
Something inside him ached. He reached toward her. Her hand was soft and cool. He remembered her touch and the wild excitement that it brought to him. "Marja," he whispered.
He felt the soft answering pressure of her fingers. "Marja," he whispered softly, "didn't you feel anything? Anything at all?"
Her voice was low and husky. "Sure, honey. You're quite a man."
"Marja, I don't mean that!" His sound was an agonized whisper. Suddenly something burst inside him and he began to cry. So much had been lost. Deep, racking sobs tore through him.
Her arms went around him, drawing his head down to her breast. "There, baby, there,** she whispered soothingly.
I
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Chapter 5
THE ODOR of frying bacon hit him as he came out of the bathroom, still warm from the shower. He finished rubbing himself briskly, then strode into the kitchen, the towel draped around his waist.
Maryann, wearing a simple housedress, was breaking some eggs into a pan on the small stove. She looked up briefly. "Get dressed," she said. "Breakfast'll be ready in a minute."
He stared at her. Her eyes were clear and she showed no trace of the long and angry night She wore no make-up, and yet her skin glowed with the same healthy animal quality it had always had. ''What for?" he asked. "I'm not goin' anywhere."
"Yes, you are," she said gesturing to a small clock on the stove. "It's almost noon That's checkout time in this hotel'*
His face flushed It was almost as if he felt the shame she should have felt "You're checkin' out with me," he said
"Don't be a fool," she replied quietly. "You can't afford it;*
He walked over to her and took her hand. "Marja," he ahnost pleaded, "is that all I am to you? Just another Joe?"
Her eyes met his steadily. "The name is Maryann. Mar-ja's gone a long time, and all guys are Joe to Maryann."
His gaze fell before hers. "I want to go back, Marja. I want us to do it over. You and me. I'm grown up now. We can have a lot of things together."
"What?" she asked sarcastically. "Marriage?"
He flushed again.
She didn't give him time to answer. "Uh-uh. I'm satisfied the ways things are. I don't have to tie up with anybody." She began to shake the eggs onto a plate. "Better hurry," she said, "or the eggs'll get cold."
He could feel a futile anger rising in him. "If it was Mike, I bet you wouldn't act like that!" She flinched suddenly and he knew that he had scored. "What has that dope got for you, anyway? He'll never be anything but a jerk cop again once he gets out of the Army!"
Her voice was low. "Mike's in the Army?"
"Yeah," he said. "He enlisted the day after Pearl Harbor. Just a week after he got on the regular force, too."
"Oh," she said. "Is he overseas?"
"How the hell should I know?" he snarled. "I have better things to do than to keep tabs on him!" He turned back to the bedroom. "Maybe you would like me to look him up for you," he flung back nastily over his shoulder. "I'll tell him you have special rates for servicemen!'*
Joker Martin entered the restaurant and came over to Vito's table. Vito looked up and signaled the waiter as he sat down. "You look worried. Joker," he said.
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Book Three. Maryann 315
"I am worried," Joker answered. "I can't get Ross to stay out west. He keeps comin' in every other month. I just had another wire from him. He's on his way in now."
Vito ordered two drinks. "How about another boy?" he asked.
Joker stared down at the table. "I thought about that, too, but who could I use? The crowd out there hkes Ross. His family background is a great cover. Besides, there's no one else smart enough, an' if they are, I can't trust 'em."
Vito scratched on the tablecloth idly with a pencil. "This has been goin' on for about five months now?"
Joker nodded.
Vito threw the pencil down. "It's that dame," he said.
Joker looked at him shrewdly. "What dame?"
*'Maryann," Vito said. "She told me that Ross was after her to go out west with him, but she doesn't want to."
"Maryann?" Joker was puzzled. "Who is she? Ross want to marry her?"
Vito shook his head. "No, he doesn't want to marry her. At least, she never said he did. He just flipped his Ud over her, that's all." He laughed. "I can't blame him for that, though. I almost did myself."
"Ross never mentioned no dame to me," Joker said. What kind of a broad is she?"
Vito looked at him. "She's a special kind of broad. Made for it. A whore with a code of ethics."
"No hustler's got ethics," Joker said. "The only language they understand is dough."
"You don't know Maryann," Vito said. "You can buy her time, but you can't buy her."
*'Maryann," Joker said softly. "That's a queer name for a whore."
"Maryann Flood," Vito said.
Joker's face was suddenly red and excited. "A blonde girl with wide brown eyes that stare right through you?'*
'*Yeah," Vito answered curiously. "You know her?"
Joker didn't answer. He pounded the table softly with his fist. "The son of a bitch!" he swore. 'The no-good bastard!"
"What's got into you?" Vito asked. "What're you sore about?"
Joker picked up his drink and swallowed it. "I should've guessed. Marja Flood."
"That's what Ross calls her," Vito s2Lid in a surprised voice. "Then you do know her?"
Joker nodded. "I know her, all right. She worked for me at the Golden Glow when she was a kid. I damn near lost my license for givin' her a job. She was under age then."
"Oh," Vito said.
"She was sent up for cuttin' her stepfather witli a kitchen knife. I heard about her when she got out, but lost track after that," Joker said. He signaled for another drink, "Ross always had a yen for that dame, but she couldn't see him. There was another guy, Ross's pal. He was her boy."
"What happened?" Vito asked.
"She got sent up, I tol' yuh," Joker said. "After that I don't know what happened. First I hear in five years is from you."
Vito's legal mind didn't like loose ends. "I mean about this friend of Ross's. What happened to him?"
"He became a cop an' then went into the Army. Ross mentioned it once before he went up for his operation." Joker sipped his drink reflectively. "She was quite a broad even when she was a kid. She had man sense even then. She still the same?"
Vito laughed.
Joker held up his hand. "Don't tell me, I know " He Ut a cigarette, and Vito noticed that his fingers were trembling "I had big plans for that kid myself," Joker said
The muflHed sound of the telephone beU penetrated her sleep. She rolled over on the bed and put her face in the pillow. It kept ringing, and reluctantly she woke up. Only in an emergency did the answering-service let the telephone ring. She picked up the phone. "Hello," she said into it.
"Maryann?" a cautious voice asked. "Frank."
She was wide awake now. It was Frank Millersen. Detective Lieutenant Millersen. "Trouble again, Frank?" she asked, looking at the clock. It was almost ten in the morning. He hadn't called since the time she had been charged with that larcency rap.
"No," the cautious voice laughed softly. "You're okay."
An almost inaudible sigh of reUef escaped her hps. It had been a long time since Millersen had first picked her up. A green kid she was then. She had spent thirty days in the can, but she had made friends with him. "What is it, then?" she asked, her voice growing husky. "Want to see me?'*
The voice laughed again. "No, thanks, Maryann. I can't afford it on a cop's pay."
"You know it ain't the dough with you, Frank,'* she said "I like you."
"Don't con me, Maryann," he laughed. "We both know better. I just called to tell you I located that ex-cop you asked me about a few months ago. The one that went into the Army Mike Keyes, your girl friend's brother."
An excitement ran through her. She had called him as soon as Ross had left that first time, and told him the first
Story that came to her mind. ''Yeah?" she said, controlling her voice carefully. ''Where is he?"
"St. Albans Veterans Hospital," he said. "Been there three weeks. He was wounded in North Africa."
Despite herself, a note of concern crept into her voice, "He was wounded?"
"Yeah. But not too bad, from what I hear. He's gettin' out on a >Veek-end pass tomorrow momin'. If your girl friend wants to catch him, she better get out there before eight o'clock. Otherwise, it'll be too late. You know how soldiers are." Millersen chuckled again. "The last thing they go lookin' for is their sisters."
"Thanks very much, Frank," she said, putting down the telephone. She reached for a cigarette and lit it thoughtfully. She could see Mike's face in the blue smoke before her. The hurt in his eyes the last time she had seen him.
She wondered what he would do on his week-end pass. His father and mother were in California, where the old man had a defense job. That was what she had been told when she called the house where Mike had lived.