“When I was at IBC I often came in at ten thirty, and I left when I wanted to. Sometimes I was in at nine and left at six. Look, Herbie, I’m good at my job. I get my work done and make my own hours. Next thing I know, you’ll want me to punch a time clock.”
“I’m not IBC. I have three people working for me. We handle twelve accounts. You make more than the other two and you work half the hours I do.”
“Then fire me.”
He stared at her with an ugly smile. “I’d love to. And you
know it! But we both need Chris Lane—and you’re not walking out of here at four o’clock.”
“Watch me.”
“Okay-then I’ll dock you.”
“Then I won’t walk out. But when I arrive at Ike Ryan’s big opening tonight, with my hair not done, Chris is going to ask some questions. And I’ll tell him about the classy job he got me.”
“Go get your hair done, you bitch.”
She smiled and walked out of the room. He watched her broad hips wiggle, and like everyone else he wondered what Chris Lane saw in her.
Ethel knew a lot of people were wondering what Chris Lane saw in her. She sat in the Copa bar, trying to smile as Eddie and Kenny cracked jokes. She hated Chris more than ever tonight. Every important person was at the opening-night party Ike Ryan had thrown. Okay, so there was bad blood between Chris and Amanda, then at least they could have gone to Sardi’s where the other first-nighters would be. But Chris didn’t feel comfortable in Sardi’s. He got a back table. He was a selfish tight bastard! She glanced at her dress. It was two years old. When she had hinted for a new dress for the opening, his eyes had narrowed: “What kind of crap is that? I buy all your meals, your rent isn’t high. With one fifty a week you should dress like a fashion plate. Besides, Lou Goldberg just made me take another annuity.”
Lou Goldberg was the key. He was coming in next week. She had to charm him and convince him that she was good for Chris. She opened her compact and added some lipstick. She simply
had
to get her teeth capped. She had hinted in every way about a mink coat for Christmas, but of course it fell on deaf ears with Chris. Well, she’d just wait till Lou Goldberg came to town-then she’d really send in the first team.
She sat tense as the dentist put the Novocain needle into her gum, even though she knew it really wouldn’t hurt. She relaxed and soon the stonelike feeling crept into her lip, her mouth and even up to her nose. It was happening! She was going to have
the teeth capped. And she had Lou Goldberg to thank for it. She lay back and shut her eyes as the dentist approached with the drill. She heard the buzz against her teeth. She felt nothing. She tried not to think that two healthy teeth were in the process of being ground into stumps. But it had to be done to close that goddam separation.
She thought about Lou Goldberg. Their evening together had been successful beyond her wildest expectations. She had planned it perfectly. She stayed late at the office intentionally and dashed into Dinty Moore’s in the oppossum coat and blue wool dress. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get home to change,” she apologized, “but Mr. Shine is a slave driver. And I wanted to look my best for you, Mr. Goldberg. Chris talks about you so much—I almost feel as if I know you.”
He was a nice-looking man. Tall, gray-haired, older than Chris. But he was slim and walked like a younger man. It hadn’t been easy. In the beginning Lou Goldberg was suspicious and guarded. She played it guileless and warm. Her entire conversation centered on Chris—his career, his talent, how she admired the way he took his success, how lucky he was to have the advice of Lou Goldberg, how he didn’t splurge to put up a false front like some performers. “Everyone loves Chris now,” she said. “They’d love him even if he wasn’t big, because he’s
nice
. And I guess he could always get work. But it’s later that a man needs security. If he’s ill, no one cares then but his family. And he’s lucky to have
you
for family, Mr. Goldberg.”
She had watched Lou Goldberg melt before her eyes. His guard dissolved and he looked at her with warm interest. Soon he was asking questions—personal questions. That meant he was interested. She played it direct and simple. Her parents were Polish, good God-fearing people who went to church every Sunday. Yes, they were still alive. They lived in Hamtramck. She almost choked as she explained she sent them fifty dollars every week. And Lou had swallowed it. God, if she sent them fifty a month, her father would retire!
Lou Goldberg beamed approvingly. “I like that, most girls don’t think of their families. They just use their money to put things on their backs.”
“That’s because they want to impress people,” she said. “I was afraid to come here in this dress, but then I realized you wouldn’t care. Not from the things Chris has told me about you. You size people up as soon as you meet them. He said you could always spot a phony a mile away.”
“I usually can,” he said happily. “And you’re a real girl.”
“Thank you,” she said modestly. “My whole life has changed, just knowing Chris. I wasn’t always this way. I did some rather stupid things. But I was young, and wanted to feel beautiful.” She laughed. “I know I can never be, but it doesn’t matter now. If Chris loves me, that’s all I want.”
Lou reached out and patted her hand. “You’re quite nice-looking, my dear.”
Ethel pointed to her front teeth. “Not with this …”
“But that could be fixed,” Lou said. “Dentists do marvelous jobs today.”
She nodded. “But it costs at least three hundred dollars.”
Lou looked at Chris meaningfully. Chris evaded the glance. Ethel pretended the subject was over and returned to her hamburger.
“Chris, I want you to have Ethel’s teeth done,” Lou said.
“Oh, she looks fine to me this way.”
“It’s for
her
sake. If she doesn’t feel she looks well—”
And so it had been arranged. Lou had written the check himself.
“I’ll take this out of your money, Chris,” he said, as he handed Ethel the check. Then he laughed. “You know, I taught this boy to be thrifty, but sometimes he overdoes it. Chris, you really should get some new suits.”
“I got three new ones—I use them on TV. And I’m working on a deal. A tailor downtown told me he’ll furnish me all the suits free if I give him a credit. Dan Miller said no plugs, but when I renegotiate my contract next year I’m gonna insist.”
“You can take it off income tax,” Lou insisted.
“Sure, but if I can get them free, why not?”
Chris wanted everything free. Ethel lay back, her face numb, the dentist’s drill humming away. She had swung it! When she had won Lou Goldberg’s confidence, Chris’s whole attitude had
changed. He actually believed she
was
reborn. As he had put it, “I feel like God. I recreated you from a bum into a lady!” And she smiled and held his hand… . God, she had wanted to slap his smug idiotic face—but she was getting the teeth, and they’d be ready in time for the dinner at the Wa’dorf. Of course she was a long way from getting
him
. Some of the columns hinted they were engaged, but marriage was still the last thing on his mind. She had toyed with the idea of getting pregnant, but he was one step ahead of her. He wouldn’t let her use a diaphragm. The few times he actually made the effort to do anything, he used a condom. Mostly he just lay back and let her make love to him! He actually believed she came from just touching him… . Well, at least she had the teeth and Lou Goldberg’s approval. That was a good start. And she would buy a new dress for the dinner.
The dinner at the Waldorf was exactly like all the other dinners at the Waldorf. Dan Miller arrived, escorting an exact replica of his other conservative “date.” Only this one had frosted hair. There were two empty seats at their table … Robin Stone never appeared. Ethel was sorry she had sprung for the dress. The only eventful moment had been her introduction to Mrs. Gregory Austin. This had occurred as they waited for their coats at the checkroom. Ethel had been properly humble, Mrs. Austin properly gracious as she complimented Chris on his show.
Chris reveled in it as he undressed that night. “Didja hear Gregory Austin himself come over and tell me I’m the greatest? And he didn’t have to. He went out of his way to tell me. You know he coulda just nodded. He’s known for that, you know-staying apart from his stars. Jesus, I’ll never forget his New Year’s Day party. I think he nodded to me once and wondered who the hell I was.” Chris flopped on the bed stark-naked. “Come on, baby, make my lob come to life. After all, it’s an honor for you to be able to please the King.”
She ignored him and undressed slowly. Chris gazed into space complacently. “Know something? That name isn’t good enough. The King. There are a lot of kings—there’s a King of England, of Greece, of Sweden, of—well, there’s plenty of Kings. But
there’s only one Chris Lane. I got to get a tag.”
“You could always try God for size.”
“Nah, that’s sacrilegious.” He thought about it. “Hey, how about ‘fantastic’! Yeah—that’s it: Mr. Fantastic. Start getting that tag put after my name in the columns, baby. I
am
fantastic. Didja notice even Mrs. Austin told me how much she enjoyed me? That’s because I’m the greatest—”
“She’d think you were the cheapest, if she knew how I worked for Herbie Shine and the hours I put in.”
“She’d be more shocked if you were a kept woman,” he growled. “There’s nothing unrespectable about working.”
“Ha! Everyone knows you’re banging me. They think you’re too cheap to keep anyone.”
“No one says I’m cheap.”
“I’m the living proof. I’ve been your girl for almost five months. They laugh at my clothes but they’re not laughing at
me
—they ’re laughing at you!” Then as she saw the color come to his face, she felt perhaps she had gone too far. She softened her voice. “Look, I don’t care whether you give me anything or not. It’s just that Herbie Shine. He’s been needling me, hinting that you’re cheap, that if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have me working in an office like his. And it’s such a crummy office, Chris. I don’t think he should handle you. Eventually you should have Cully and Hayes.”
“At a G a week?”
“You can afford it.”
“That’s pissing money away. They get you invited to all the fancy parties but not a line in a column. At least Herbie gets me a few column plugs.”
“But Herbie can’t get you lined up with any magazine stories.”
“The IBC publicity office takes care of that. I only want column mentions from Herbie.”
“You’re paying Herbie three hundred a week for column mentions.”
“Actually one fifty. The other one fifty goes for your salary.”
“That’s what
you
think—I work on ten other accounts for him. And you’re paying for that!”
“The son of a bitch,” he said softly.
“Chris. Hire me and unload Herbie!”
His smile was nasty. “You mean I should pay you three hundred a week? It doesn’t add up. This way I got both you and Herbie working for me.”
“Herbie doesn’t lift a finger for you. He just makes you go to his crappy restaurants and gets your name in a column that way. And the restaurant is paying him. Look, Chris, pay me two hundred—that’s a hundred less than you pay Herbie. And I’d do the same job. I know all the columnists—I can place all the items for you. And I’d be free to be with you whenever you wanted and keep your hours. Like last week I had to leave you at two at the Copa because Herbie had an early assignment for me on one of
his
accounts. This way I could stay up all hours, and Herbie won’t be taking your money and laughing behind your back.”
His eyes narrowed. “That lousy little punk.” He was silent. Suddenly he smiled. “Okay, doll, you got yourself a deal. I paid Herbie until the end of the week. Get your paycheck on Friday, then tell Herbie to go fuck himself. Tell him Chris said so.”
She leaped on him and covered his face with kisses. “Oh, Chris, I love you, you are my master, my life!”
“Okay, now dive. Make Mr. Fantastic happy.”
After Chris was satisfied he settled with his racing form, and she browsed through the morning papers. She leafed through the
Daily News
and stopped at page three. There was a big picture of Amanda being carried on a stretcher to the hospital. Ike was holding her hand. Even on the stretcher Amanda looked beautiful. She read the story carefully. Amanda had collapsed at a party. The diagnosis was internal hemorrhaging from an ulcer. Her condition was listed as “satisfactory.” Ethel carefully hid the paper. Chris hadn’t mentioned Amanda in a long time; she was sure he was over her. She wondered how Robin had felt when she married Ike. Then she thought of the two empty chairs at the table tonight. She had to admire his nerve. How did he have the guts not to show—?
SEVENTEEN
R
OBIN HAD INTENDED TO SHOW
. He had told Tina, the new pride of Century Pictures, to be ready at eight. He had even ordered a car. He was glad he had gone to that movie opening last week. Usually he ducked those things, but he had started back on his book and had worked every night for several weeks. He was in the mood for some relaxation. And God had created Tina St. Claire for just that purpose. She was a beautiful brainless idiot who had come to New York to promote a picture. She only had a small part but the stars had been unavailable, so Tina St. Claire, Georgia hopeful turned starlet, had agreed to go on the junket. And
go
she had—San Francisco, Houston, Dallas, St. Louis, Philadelphia, and finally New York. This film company had staffed her with a press agent, a studio-loaned wardrobe, and a suite at the St. Regis which she barely had time to see. In three days she had done seven television appearances, ten radio shows, four newspaper interviews and had appeared at a department store to autograph the sound-track album. (That had hurt her ego more than her feet: she had stood for two hours and no one had come.) Then the whole thing had culminated in the premiere and an opening-night party at which the press agent handed her a return ticket (tourist) to Los Angeles along with instructions to check out of the hotel the following day.