The name, tenderly spoken, sounded funny to her ears. She began to smile through the tears that had flooded into her eyes. She looked up at him, her eyes shining radiantly. “Say it again, Rocco,” she whispered, “say it again.”
He kissed her. His lips were hard against hers. He drew a deep breath and looked at her. “Baby,” he said.
It was soft, tender, and reverent all at once. Some people liked to be called darling or sweetheart or lover, but she would be satisfied with “baby” all her life if he always said it like that. “Never stop saying it, Rocco,” she whispered.
He smiled slowly. “I never will—baby.”
Her arms went around his neck; she could feel his arms tighten around her. He was strong and she could feel her breath rushing out of her. She pressed her lips to his and closed her eyes. It was like hanging onto a rainbow; she could feel the world going round beneath her but she didn’t care. Not so long as Rocco loved her.
They parted and looked at each other. Her eyes roamed over his face. He looked well; certain lines on his face had disappeared. A frown that had become almost habitual had gone from the corner of his mouth. His eyes looked back at her, clear and confident.
“You’ve made up your mind?” she asked.
His hand still held hers as if he were afraid to let go. “Yes,” he answered slowly, “I made up my mind.”
“What are you doing?” she asked.
His hand let go of hers; he looked at her with a half-defiant look as if he were afraid that she would mock him. He turned from her for a half second, and then, as if he had made up his mind, he turned back to her. He didn’t speak, his fingers flew down the front of his coat, leaving the buttons open behind them. He threw the coat back over his shoulders. His eyes looked into hers searchingly.
She stared at his jacket. It was made of white linen. There was a pocket high on his breast. On the pocket in small red letters there were some words. She came closer to read them. “Hotel Savoy Barber Shop.” She looked up at his face incredulously. He had said he would go back to barbering, but she hadn’t believed him. She had thought he was just talking.
His eyes were still on hers, his voice was challenging as he spoke. “Anything wrong with it?”
His eyes were warm and brown and she could see right into his heart through them. He was afraid of her answer. He didn’t have to be. “No, there’s nothing wrong with it”—she hesitated a moment and looked levelly at him—“as long as you’re happy.”
She could see the hidden fear leave his eyes. Slowly they began to shine as he smiled. “I’m happy,” he answered simply. “This racket was never for me.”
He was right, she thought. It was not for him. This business had to be inside you the way it was inside Johnny. You were good for it then, but it left you room for little else. It did something to you, something you couldn’t put into words. She could feel it in Johnny—in the way it had obsessed him even from that very first time he had walked into Sam Sharpe’s office. Suddenly she was very happy that it was not for Rocco. She wanted him to stay the way he was.
“Johnny won’t like it,” she said.
“It really won’t matter very much to Johnny,” he said with rare insight. “It’s only his pride will be hurt a little, but he really doesn’t need me any more. I’m like the crutch he keeps near his bed now. He only uses it the times he hasn’t got his leg on. And then it’s mostly to go to the toilet with.”
She smiled at the allegory. He was tired of doing Johnny’s dirty work. He was right, too. Since Johnny had learned to walk again and now especially that he had married, Rocco would be nothing but that extra crutch.
He watched her smiling. He began to smile. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Her smile broadened to a mischievous grin. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me to marry you,” she answered.
He laughed merrily. “And I suppose you have your answer ready.”
“Yes,” she answered, laughing with him.
His voice was suddenly serious. “What is it?”
She looked at him, the laughter fading from her eyes, leaving them tender and excited. “You just heard it,” she said softly.
He pulled her to him. “Then what are we waiting for?” he asked happily.
***
They were seated on the couch when Johnny came back into his office. He stopped in the doorway and stared at them in surprise. Then he strode toward Rocco with outstretched hand, a look of genuine pleasure on his face.
Rocco got to his feet slowly and took Johnny’s hand. They looked into each other’s faces, smiling embarrassedly.
It was Johnny who broke the silence. “What’s the idea of scaring hell out of us?” he asked. “Janey almost passed out on me this morning.”
Rocco looked at Jane quickly. She hadn’t said anything to him. They smiled at each other and he turned back to Johnny.
Johnny saw the look that passed between them. He laughed and walked around his desk and sat down. He leaned back in the chair comfortably. He felt better now. “Where the devil have you been?” he asked good-naturedly.
Rocco walked up to the desk and stood there looking down at him. “I been working,” he said quietly.
“Working?” Johnny exploded. He leaned forward with a sudden motion that threatened to send his chair flying out from under him. He looked up at Rocco. “Where?”
“In a barber shop,” Rocco answered in the same tone of voice.
“You’re joking.” Johnny laughed.
Rocco’s face was serious. “No, I’m not,” he said. “My mind was made up when I got back to New York. There’s nothing for me to do around here.”
“What do you mean, nothing to do?” Johnny asked. “You got a job here working for me.”
“An errand boy could do the work for a lot less than you’re payin’ me,” Rocco said scornfully.
Johnny was silent. He looked at Rocco for a minute. Rock was right, but he hadn’t thought of it in just that way. He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them to Rock silently. Rock took one and put it in his mouth. Johnny struck a match and held it for him, then lighted his own. He was suddenly ashamed of himself.
“I’m sorry, Rock, I didn’t think it was like that. I should’ve known better,” he admitted. “Name the job you want. Any job. It’s yours.”
Rock looked down at him. Johnny was right. He hadn’t known how it was, he really couldn’t know. There really wasn’t anything bad about Johnny. He just thought the picture business was the only thing in the world. He began to feel sorry for him. “I got the job I want,” he said softly.
“In a barber shop?” Johnny asked unbelievingly.
“In a barber shop,” Rocco repeated.
“Wait a minute,” Johnny said, getting to his feet and walking around the desk. “You don’t mean that.”
Rocco smiled at him. The guy just didn’t believe that anyone could like barbering better than the picture business. “I do mean it.”
Johnny stared at him. He really meant it. “Well then,” he said, “why don’t you at least open a place of your own?”
“Maybe I will some day,” Rocco answered slowly.
Johnny looked at him. He thought he saw a way to repay Rock for all he had done. “I can put up the dough,” he suggested. “You can do it now if you want.”
Rocco looked at Jane and smiled; then he turned back to Johnny. The guy really meant well. “It isn’t the dough, Johnny,” he explained. “I got enough to do it if I want. I didn’t spend a cent of my own since I been with you, an’ I got over fifteen thou in the sock. I just don’t want to right now.”
There was a look of distress on Johnny’s face. “Then isn’t there anything I can do?” he asked helplessly.
“No,” Rocco answered slowly.
Johnny looked from one to the other. He seemed to slump somehow. Tired lines sprang suddenly into his face. “I’m sorry I loused things up, Rock,” he said in a low voice.
Rocco looked at him pityingly. “It wasn’t all your fault, Johnny,” he said. “I only want there should be no hard feelin’s between us over this.” He held out his hand.
“I haven’t any,” Johnny replied in the same low voice. “I only feel I owe you a great deal that I can’t repay.” He took Rocco’s hand. “Thanks for what you’ve done, Rock.”
Rock was embarrassed. “You don’t owe me nuthin’, Johnny.” He tried to joke. “Just get your haircuts by me, that’s all I ask.”
Johnny tried to smile. “Yeah, Rock, I’ll do that.”
They looked at each other uncomfortably, neither knowing what to say next. This time it was Rocco who broke the silence. “Is it okay if I take Janey home? We got some things to talk about.”
Johnny smiled wanly. “You don’t have to ask that,” he replied. “You know it’s okay.”
He leaned against the desk and watched them walk to the door. At the door they turned to him. “Good night, Johnny,” they said almost together.
“Good night,” he answered, and watched the door close behind them. He stood there in the office thinking. He felt strangely alone. Suddenly he wished Dulcie were there.
He walked around the desk to his phone. He half picked it up, then looked at his watch. It was nine thirty. That made it six thirty at the studio. She would still be working. He knew they were working late that night to make time. She wouldn’t be home until eleven. He put the phone down slowly. He would call her from the apartment later. He felt drained and empty. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he stared down at his desk. He would feel better when he spoke to Dulcie.
***
The cab pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. The doorman stepped forward and opened the door.
“Don’t be late tomorrow, Dulcie.” Von Elster smiled. “Ve got some important scenes to rehearse before ve can get down to business.”
Dulcie looked at him and smiled. This funny little man had a charm all his own in spite of the way he looked. Maybe it was because he was an artist and really knew his business. She was suddenly curious about him. “It’s early, Conrad,” she said. “Why don’t you come upstairs and have a drink? That way we can go over it tonight and we’ll be that much ahead tomorrow.”
Von Elster looked at her in surprise. He wondered what she meant by her invitation. He knew what such invitations usually meant, but in this case he was doubtful. After all, she was a newlywed, and her husband was young, attractive, and rich, but he was willing to explore the possibilities. If he was wrong—mentally he shrugged his shoulders—at least they would gain some time for tomorrow, as she pointed out. “A good idea,” he said.
He raised his eyebrow when he followed her into the suite. A table was set with places for two. Next to the table was a small wagon with a casserole tray on it. There was a flame under the casserole.
“There’s liquor in the cabinet over there,” she said, pointing to the wall. “Help yourself to a drink. I must get out of these clothes and take a shower. I’m simply dying, it’s been so hot under those lights all day.”
He bowed politely after her as she left the room; then he turned to the liquor cabinet. He opened the door. A row of bottles looked out at him. He took one down and opened it. He sniffed at the neck of the bottle. This was real schnapps, like in the old country. The liquor they got here with this silly prohibition business was awful. He would have to find out who their bootlegger was. He poured a drink into a small glass and tasted it.
Ach, goot
! He swallowed it and poured himself another. The sound of water running came to him through the closed doors. It was oddly exciting. Quickly he downed his second drink and refilled his glass.
She came back into the room less than fifteen minutes later. “I wasn’t too long, was I?” she asked, smiling.
He struggled to his feet from the comfortable chair he had been sitting in. His face was flushed with the five drinks resting comfortably in his stomach. He bowed to her. “No, Dulcie, not long at all.”
He straightened up and suddenly he was staring.
Gott in Himmel!
She had nothing on under that negligee she was wearing! Her body seemed to be glowing underneath the diaphanous peach-colored silk. She was beautiful, positively beautiful.
She seemed unaware that he was staring at her. “Stay where you are,” she said. “I’ll bring something to eat over to you.” She filled two plates with some food from the casserole and took two napkins from the table and carried them over to him.
She gave him one plate and pulled up a hassock in front of his chair and sat down on it, looking innocently up at him. “Now we can talk,” she said prettily. She looked almost like a little girl with her long, blond hair tied behind her head with a thin blue ribbon.
He looked at her. Maybe she wasn’t aware that the neck of her negligee had parted slightly when she sat down and he could see into it. He leaned forward and looked down at her. “You know, you’re a very beautiful woman, Dulcie,” he said, “ant a dangerous one, too.”
Her laughter tinkled in the room. “Am I, Conrad?”
“Yes.” He nodded solemnly. “Maybe the most dangerous woman I haff ever met.” He put his plate down carefully on the floor and placed his hands on her shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed her chastely on the forehead. “You make fires to start burning inside men.”
He looked down at her to see the effect of his words. He was surprised to see that the touch of his hands had caused the negligee to slip from her shoulders, revealing her body naked to the waist. He was even more surprised by her answer.
“Is that all the fire I start in you, Conrad?” she asked demurely, a look of daring on her face.
***
Johnny looked at the clock. It was time for the call to go through, she would be home now. The phone rang. He picked it up. “Hello.”
“This is the long-distance operator,” a voice answered. “I have your California call for you. Go ahead, please.”
“Hello, Johnny!” It was Dulcie’s voice now. She sounded pleased and excitedly breathless.
“Dulcie,” he said, “how are you, darling?”
“Oh, Johnny, honey,” she said, “I’m so glad you called. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, darling. Everything going all right?”
“Just fine,” she answered. “But I wish you were here.”
He laughed happily. “That’s the picture business, darling. You never know what’s going to happen next. How’s the picture coming along?”