Beebo Brinker Chronicles 1 - Odd Girl Out (12 page)

"What secret?” said Beth.

"Laura said you had a secret."

"She did?” Beth looked back at Laura with troubled eyes.

"Emily, I did not!” said Laura angrily, finding her tongue suddenly in this crisis. For the second time she had lost her temper at Emily. “I didn't say anything of the kind!” She had to shout at Emmy; she was afraid to look at Beth.

"Well, gee, Laur, don't get mad,” said Emmy. “I'm not trying to start anything. What the heck is this, anyway?” She looked at Beth. “She said she had something to tell you, that's all. She was so let down when you weren't here last night that I asked her what was the matter and she wouldn't tell me. She just said she had something to tell you. Gee, I didn't mean to start anything. I thought it was a joke."

Beth pulled herself together fast. She had to in the face of Emily's sudden suspicion. “You didn't start anything, Emmy,” she said calmly. “You don't mind if I tell her, do you, Laur?"

Laura, who would have followed her naked into hell, shook her head in bewilderment.

"It was just a family thing, Em. Laura wanted to transfer out of journalism school. It all depended on what her father said. Sort of a difficult situation. Her parents didn't agree. I guess Mr. Landon finally decided against it. Right,

Laur?"

"Yes.” She stared in grateful surprise at Beth, with a sort of perverse pleasure in seeing her father rescue his daughter's Lesbian love affair. It was as good a thing as ever he did for her.

"One of those family things,” Beth said. “Not so much a secret, Emmy, as just—sort of—awkward."

Emily was suddenly contrite. She never disbelieved Beth; she never had reason to. “Oh, Laur, I'm sorry!” she said. She looked anxiously at her, wanting to restore a sunny atmosphere.

Laura promptly absolved her, glad to have it over, to have got out of it so well. Emily took the thing at nearly face value, thanks to Beth. Laura was shaken hard and fast into the realization of the pressing need for tact and caution and highly refined hypocrisy.

Mitch called Beth, and ran headlong into the bruising fact that Beth didn't want to go out with him again. She gave him a charming runaround; he couldn't even get mad at her. But she said no, and it rankled in Mitch.

Charlie got out of the way and let him call first. It was the only way to keep peace. Besides, they were friends, they had an agreement, they even had a lease to bind them. But he intended to call and he said so, and there wasn't much Mitch could do about it, being Mitch. He didn't think he was in love with Beth any more, but he thought he might have been if he had had the chance.

Charlie came in and found him sitting by the phone. Mitch waved at it. “She's busy all week, he said with a sort of comic sarcasm. “Try for Friday night. She hesitated a little over that one."

"Mitch—” Charlie felt awkward.

"Go on, go on. We had an agreement."

"He called. Beth was rarely called on a house phone. Anyone with anything to say to her knew her private number."

"Hello?” she said.

"Hello, Beth, this is Charlie.” He didn't believe in guessing games.

"Well, Charlie!” she exclaimed, strangely startled.

"I have a problem. I thought maybe you could help me out."

It was somehow possible to tell that he was smiling.

"Well, I don't know.” She grinned back at him. “What is it?"

"Classics. An elective. Don't know how I got hooked. Anyway, I'm in trouble. I mean, I may very well flunk out."

Beth laughed at him. “Oh, that's a shame!” she said.

He ignored her. “Laura says you know something about the classics."

"Oh, she does?"

"Thought you might be willing to brief me. I wouldn't take much of your time. You're up at the Union every day, aren't you?"

"Yes—"

"I know you're busy—"

"Oh, I am—"

"But you must have a few free minutes."

"Well, sometimes, but—"

"Any time would do."

She realized that every answer she gave him was affirmative. “Charlie, I just don't know. I never know what to expect up there. My time isn't my own."

"Aren't you the president of the Student Union?"

"Yes, but—” Another affirmative.

"Well, hell, honey, make time. Just half an hour would do it. How about the Pine Lounge this afternoon? Say about three-thirty?"

"Charlie, I can't.” She thought of Laura. “I just can't."

"Sure you can, Beth. Oh look, honey—I know you don't owe me anything, that's not the point. I just thought maybe you'd be willing to help me out. My God, I can't even tell you anything about Socrates! That's how bad it is."

Beth laughed.

"Please,” he said, and she could tell again that he was smiling. “I'd really appreciate it, Beth."

She would tell Laura as soon as she got back to the room. There would be no cause for jealousy or suspicion. What's more practical and less romantic than a history lesson?

"Beth?"

She just liked to be with him. He was fun, he was different, he wasn't afraid of her. It wouldn't amount to anything.

"Hey, Beth—you there?"

"Yes. I—"

"Good,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Thanks a lot, honey. See you at three-thirty. Okay?"

No breath of ulterior motives. “Okay, Charlie."

Back in the room she told Laura, “It's for a Classics final. I guess he's having trouble with it."

"He likes you, Beth.” Laura knew it right away.

"Not that way.” She laughed. “Men like Charlie don't like girls like Beth. I'm supposed to be a real bookworm, you know. I guess I'm just a change of pace for him."

"Well, girls like Laura don't like girls like Beth, either. Until they fall in love with them."

"Oh, baby!” Beth laughed and pulled the troubled face up and kissed it. “I swear I'll tell you every word he says. And all you'll hear is a half-hour monologue on Greek philosophers."

With Laura watching her carefully, Beth only ran a comb through her hair before she left for the Pine Lounge. She had wanted to put on some cologne, change her sweater, freshen her lipstick—but she knew that would cause too great an eruption. She left the room with a great show of casualness and arrived at the Lounge a little early. She sat at a table with a notebook before her, daydreaming. She looked up and let her gaze wander out the window, where it rested motionless on nothing and criticized Charlie's face. She sat like that for almost ten minutes until suddenly a strong hand gripped her neck and she put her head back with a jerk, electrified. She laughed in spite of herself, hunching her shoulders and squirming to be free. Charlie held her firm, grinning down at her.

She said, “Charlie, don't!” still laughing, and then she realized that he wouldn't let her go until she stopped struggling. She froze.

He released her, tossing his books on the table in front of her.

"Sorry I'm late."

"Are you?” She was surprised.

"Urn-hmm.” He took his coat off, pulled up a chair, and sat down.

"Charlie, you've been drinking beer,” she said, pulling away from him as if his breath might intoxicate her, and grinning.

"Brethren,” he said piously, “I repent."

Beth laughed at him. “Okay,” she said. “What is it you want to know? As if you were in any condition to learn."

"I'm forced to agree,” he said. “Let's adjourn. There's a jam session at Maxie's this afternoon."

"I thought you were flunking out of Classics."

"Oh, I am!"

"Well, maybe you'd better do something about it."

"That's your job, honey.” He pulled out a mimeographed list of names and places and questions and handed it to her. “Explain this damn thing to me, will you?” he said.

"All of it?"

"Well—the Peloponnesian War. I can't get the damn thing straight."

Beth gave him a skeptical smile and then she took the list from him. “Okay,” she said. She bent over the paper and began to talk.

Charlie studied her hair and the line of her cheek, his head resting in his hand.

"You see, Sparta was up here,” she said, and he didn't answer. “Do you see?” She looked up and saw him gazing at her.

"Mm,” he said thoughtfully and let his hand come down. He leaned forward on his arms and looked down at the paper. “See what?"

"Charlie, are you listening to me?"

"You won't believe this, but I am. I don't know as I'm remembering any of it, though. Let's go over to Maxie's, honey."

"And let you flunk out of Classics?"

"And let me flunk out of Classics."

"I couldn't, Charlie, even if I wanted to. Sorry."

"Do you want to?"

She smiled a little, wondering why he had put it that way. “I can't,” she said.

That's not what I asked you, honey."

"I have work to do."

"So do I. So does everybody. Don't you ever play,

Beth?"

"Charlie, I can't go."

"Half an hour?"

She laughed helplessly. “Ohhh,” she groaned, flattered, and gave him a deploring look. “No!"

"Half an hour it is,” he said. “Where's your coat?"

"Charlie—” she protested, but the situation struck her, and her laughter took the starch out of her protest. She did want to go. She obviously wanted to go. But she thought suddenly of Laura and her own good intentions, and turned cold. “Where's your coat, honey?"

"Upstairs. Laura was tormenting her. “Charlie, I—"

"Come on, we'll go get it."

"I can't go, Charlie.” She tried to make it sound serious and final.

Charlie stood up and pulled his jacket on and grabbed his notebook. He hustled Beth out of the lounge and down the linoleumed corridor to the elevator.

Beth leaned against the wall of the elevator while he pushed the button and it started up. “I wish you'd believe me, Charlie. I can't go."

He leaned on the wall beside her, one arm over her head, and looked down at her. “I wish you'd tell me why. You keep saying you can't go. Why can't you go?"

"All right, I'll give you a good reason. Mitch. What about Mitch?"

"What about him?"

"He called me this week, you know. Or didn't you know?"

"I know."

"And I turned him down."

"Um-hmm.” He didn't seem in the least perturbed. “Charlie, he's your best friend! I agreed to see you only to help you out of a jam. Not to go out and drink beer with you."

"Am I supposed to apologize for asking you out for a beer?"

The elevator doors pulled open and they walked out slowly.

"How would Mitch feel?"

"He expects it."

"He expects it? Well, damn it, Charlie, what are you up to? What is this? You didn't want any help on that final.” She sighed, but she was pleased. “Are you afraid to be honest?"

"You make it impossible, Beth. I suppose it's beside the point that I meant to be. I didn't organize the jam session.” He followed her into her office and she turned and faced him while he talked. “Mitch was honest with you, and what happens? You force a man to use his ingenuity, Beth.” It was the rare kind of compliment she couldn't resist. “Mitch says, ‘Beth, I'd like to see you again, will you go out with me this weekend?’ and gets a flat ‘No.’ So what am I supposed to do? Throw myself against the same brick wall?” He smiled at her and she had to laugh. “You can't say I'm not being honest now,” he said.

"Still, Charlie,” she said in a gentler voice, “it must be hard on Mitch.” She was arguing for Laura, not for Mitch.

"Look, Beth, we had this out together. We both wanted to see you, we had a big argument over it, we finally decided to leave it up to you. It was the only way. Mitch called first. Then I called. He knows I called. My God, I'm not keeping any secrets."

Beth said firmly to herself, I can't go out. But she didn't say it to Charlie and when she looked up at him her resolution began to falter.

"Now, where's your coat?” he said, lifting a gray one from the rack. “This it?"

"No. Won't you please give up and go away?"

"This one?"

Oh, Laura—I can't help it, I want to go...

"Hey, Beth?” A girl put her head in the door. “Oops, sorry!” she said, catching sight of Charlie. “You leaving?"

"Well, I—what is it, Doris?"

"Nothing vital. Entertainment committee. You can see ‘em tomorrow.” She grinned at Charlie and left.

"Well, that's settled,” said Charlie. “Which coat?"

"The tan one."

"That's more like it.” He smiled and held it for her and she slipped into it with the feeling that she was slipping into a trap. She expected to pay for it somehow, but at the moment payment seemed far off.

They walked briskly over to Maxie's and Charlie talked with her all the way, holding her arm, stopping her at curbs, leading her around puddles. Now she liked it and now it annoyed her but the curious excitement of being with Charlie overwhelmed her other feelings.

"Your friend Emily is over there,” he said.

"She is?” Beth was vaguely upset. She would rather have had her escapade unobserved, but better Emmy than Laura.

"Yeah. Bud's playing. He's got her hypnotized."

"It's a way he has.” And as a matter of fact it was true that he had held Emmy's affections longer than any other boy she knew.

"I'd like to know when that guy studies,” Charlie went on. “Jesus, I only study the bare minimum myself. He studies about half as much as I do. Every time I go over to Maxie's he's down there playing. Damn near lives there, I guess."

Bud managed to stay in music school by conducting all his practice sessions down in Maxie's basement. Everybody loved it except his professors. He saw them only on the rare occasions when he went to class.

At the door to Maxie's Beth tried to hesitate once more, in deference to her conscience, but it was too late. Charlie pushed the door open with one hand and pushed Beth inside with the other.

"Get in there, girl, and behave yourself,” he said.

She turned to glare at him and ended up laughing and doing as he told her. “One beer,” she said weakly. “One."

The music floated up from downstairs. Maxie had moved the band permanently to the basement in the interest of maintaining the public peace. They went down the narrow flight of stairs to a huge dimly lit room full of long tables and smoke and music. The tables were full of people and the people were full of beer, as a general rule.