1968 - An Ear to the Ground (8 page)

As she slid under the steering wheel and as he dropped heavily into the passenger’s seat, she looked inquiringly at him.

‘Was it good?’ she asked.

Harry could have said it was sheer hell, but he remembered his job. After all, he told himself, she would soon be gone.

This was something not to be repeated, so he lied: ‘The best ever.’

She nodded, slid into gear and sent the car roaring back along the beach road towards the lights of the City.

Three days later when Harry had recovered his virility and had had no word from Lisa, he decided he was out of danger.

This was just a passing thing, he assured himself, and he wouldn’t have to face that ordeal again.

When Lisa had said goodbye to him, she had looked intently at him with those big, glittering eyes and had smiled. ‘It was good, wasn’t it, Harry? It was the best ever for me too.’ Then she had driven away.

Well, that was that, Harry thought with heartfelt relief. What an experience . . . phew!

But how wrong he was.

On this third day, he was in his office working on reorder sheets when the telephone rang.

‘This is Miss Selby,’ a cool, crisp voice informed him. ‘Mr. Cohen’s personal secretary. I am calling from San Francisco. Mr. Cohen wants to see you at three o’clock on Friday, the 11th. I have mailed you your return air ticket. It will reach you tomorrow. Please be punctual,’ and the line went dead.

Right then and there, Harry laid an egg. The few times any store manager had been summoned to the holy of holies, he had got the gate. Could the old bastard have heard about Lisa? Harry wondered, really sweating it out. If he got the gate, what was he going to do? He hadn’t saved any money . . . damn it, he owed money! Hell’s teeth! He would be fixed!

By the time he reached Frisco and had been shot up seventeen floors in the express elevator to Sol Cohen’s palatial office, he was practically a hospital case.

He was met by Miss Selby who he had heard about. She was tall and willowy and gorgeous, with eyes like ice pick points and a smile that would have frozen a glacier. She took him to Sol Cohen’s office door, tapped and half-opened the door.

Harry heard a voice talking with vicious anger. The sound of the voice sent a chill up his spine.

Sol Cohen was on the telephone.

‘German?’ Sol Cohen was shouting. ‘Listen, Sam, don’t tell me lies like that! That consignment comes from China! I know! You can’t fool me! I’m not handling any crap from China!’ There was a click as Cohen slammed down the receiver.

Miss Selby raised her beautiful eyebrows at Harry, her face expressionless.

‘You may go in.’

Sol Cohen was a small, fat, balding man with a big hooked nose, small, dark, tough looking eyes and the magic only the real top executives have that come from them like a laser ray.

As Harry walked across the forty-foot carpet before he finally arrived at Cohen’s desk which was big enough to play billiards on, Cohen leaned back on his high executive chair and studied him. By the time Harry reached the desk, his knees were knocking together and he was sweating cold sweat.

Cohen’s fat face was a hard mask: an unnerving face. Harry thought wildly that this could be a dead face, then the face broke into a wide beaming smile and Cohen became transformed from a ruthless tycoon to a jovial, fat Jew who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

‘You Harry Lewis?’ he said, getting to his feet.

Harry gaped at him. The transformation threw him hopelessly out of his stride.

‘Y-yes, sir.’

‘Sit down, boy. First, let me shake your hand.’

Dazed, Harry felt the small hard hand grip his, then as Cohen waved to a chair opposite his desk, he almost collapsed into it.

‘So you’re Harry Lewis.’ Cohen regarded him, smiling, then he nodded. ‘Quite a boy! Well! Well! I always knew Lisa could pick ‘em. Now listen, Harry, I’ve got a busy day. People keep worrying me. When you ran a business the way I ran this business, you’re like a goddam slave, so we’ll have to make this a quickie. Maybe when I take a vacation, we’ll get together and have fun . . . huh?’

Harry just stared at him.

‘You want a cigar?’ Cohen asked.

‘No-no, thank you, sir.’

‘Okay, Harry, let’s get at it. Tell me, how do you like the idea of me being your father-in-law?’

Harry thought: One of us must be mad! I guess it must be me!

‘Surprised? Didn’t Lisa tell you?’ Cohen laughed. ‘My little girl loves you . . . you love her . . . so . . . okay. She wants to marry you and when Lisa wants anything, she gets it.’ Cohen wagged his head, his expression rueful. ‘I’ll tell you something, Harry, she’s got me wrapped around her finger. But I like the idea of Lisa getting married. I want grandchildren. You know something, Harry? I like little kids. It’s the Jew in me. Besides, I’m not going to last forever and I want to leave my dough to Lisa and after her to three or four or even five boys. See?’

Harry was speechless. He just sat there, sweat beading his face, his heart thumping, his mouth half-open.

‘I’ve been checking on your record, Harry,’ Cohen went on. ‘No great shakes, huh? Six thousand . . . nothing, but according to Lisa you’ve got something pretty special.’ He gave a leering laugh, ‘And Lisa likes it. Between you and me . . . how was she?’

Harry reared back, feeling blood rash to his face.

‘I’d rather. . . I. . . I. . .’

Cohen waved his hand.

‘Okay, boy. . . I like that. . . shows class,’ he said. ‘Forget it. . . sure, that’s something a classy guy doesn’t talk about. Well now, Harry, I’ve got to rush this. I’ve a full day. Just listen: Lisa wants to get married at the end of the month. I’ve already got a replacement for you at the store. That’ll give you a chance to help Lisa find a house. She’s struck with Paradise City and wants to settle there. I’ll miss her here, but when Lisa wants anything, she damn well gets it. So she’ll look around and she’ll find a house. You must be around to help her. The house and everything that goes with it. . . the furniture . . . the cars . . . you know, is all on me. I’m opening a bank account down there with the Florida Deposit in your joint names . . . just to start you two off right. Two hundred and fifty thousand. When the account begins to ran low — and knowing Lisa — it’ll ran low — I’ll keep it topped up. You have nothing to worry about. When you get back, go along to the bank and draw some money. Buy some clothes. When you go around with Lisa you’ve got to look good.’ The telephone bell buzzed and Cohen scowled. When he scowled, Harry shivered. It was a different face: a face you see in a nightmare. Cohen snatched up another telephone receiver. ‘I’m busy! I’m not taking calls! What? Hong Kong? Who the hell cares about Hong Kong?’ and he slammed down the receiver. For a long moment he scowled at the telephone, then he worked himself into a good mood again. ‘What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Now look, Harry, I don’t believe a man can be happy without some kind of work. Lisa didn’t want you to work. She thought you should stick around in the house and on the yacht and have fun with her, but I don’t go for that. I think you should have some work to do. I’ve got fifty thousand acres of building land out in Florida. My father bought it for a song. I’ve sat on it for years, but three months ago, I began to sell. I’ve set up an office in Paradise City. The punk in charge is as useless as a newborn babe — all he does is to make a noise. So I telephoned him this morning and gave him the heave-ho.’

Harry suppressed a shiver. ‘When a guy is no use to me, I get rid of him,’ Cohen went on, ‘and this punk has a hole in his head. Well now, Harry, here’s a job that’ll give you interest. It’s not hard. There’s a clever little bitch down there who knows all the answers. She practically runs the office on her own, but I like a man in the front. I thought twenty thousand would be about right. . . we can adjust that later. That’ll be your own personal spending money. Of course, the heavy money will come from your joint account. The other money is for your cigarettes. Get all this?’

Still Harry said nothing, but by now his mind was beginning to function.

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. . . a house . . . a yacht. . . $20,000 a year. . . a job in an office.

Miss Selby put her gorgeous head around the door.

‘Excuse me, Mr. Cohen, but the American Ambassador is calling from London and Hong Kong is still on the line.’

Cohen raised his hands and grimaced at Harry.

‘You see, boy . . . no peace. Well, okay, you get back to Paradise City and clear up. Lisa will be down in a couple of days. Excuse me, huh? I know you two are going to be very, very happy.’

Harry felt a touch on his arm from Miss Selby and he got slowly to his feet. He left the office as Cohen began talking on one of his many telephones.

Miss Selby eyed Harry over. Her eyes were hostile, her smile freezing.

‘Congratulations, Mr. Lewis,’ she said and went to her desk.

Harry walked to the elevator. He moved like a man under a shock.

During the three weeks that Harry remained a bachelor, every now and then, he decided to cut and run, but he hadn’t the guts. The prize was too glittering. When he saw the house Lisa had chosen, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. It had eight bedrooms, eight bathrooms, four living rooms, a magnificent garden and swimming pool. . . the whole works.

There was a Rolls, a Caddy and the Aston Martin in the garage. There was a Jap butler, a housekeeper and five other staff and three Chinese gardeners. There was a yacht which had luxury accommodation for twenty people . . . a small liner. Suddenly Harry was handed on a plate everything a man could dream of, but he also had Lisa.

While he was clearing out his desk in the small poky office at the self-service store, the day following his interview with Sol Cohen, the door opened and Lisa came in. She shut the door and turned the key. She came across to where Harry was standing and looked up at him, her dark eyes shining. ‘Hello, Harry,’ Lisa said and smiled. ‘Surprised?’

By now, Harry had made his decision. Whatever else he might have been, he was honest and he was now determined, since Lisa had bought him, he would somehow give her value for her money. He knew what she wanted, and if it half-killed him, he would give it to her. All the way back from Frisco, he had thought about the deal. At first, he had decided to pack his bag and get the hell out. Then he thought what it could mean to be the husband of the heir to the Cohen millions. The scale was too heavily balanced in Lisa’s favour, but often when he lay in bed in the dark and thought of what he was heading for, he still wanted to ran, but he didn’t. So now with this small, unattractive, enormously wealthy woman standing in front of him, Harry did what was expected of him.

‘Surprised?’ He laughed. ‘I’m crazy with joy!’ He pulled her to him, slid his hands up under her dress and captured her small, skinny buttocks in either hand. ‘I’m going to make you happy, Lisa,’ he said, and held her hard against him.

‘Sol Cohen came down for the wedding. There were close on eight hundred guests. . . it was one of the biggest turnouts in Paradise City. Sol was in tremendous form. He brought with him his personal present for the bride . . . the Esmaldi necklace.’

***

Here Al Barney paused and regarded me with a cocked eyebrow.

‘I told you I’d finally get around to the necklace, didn’t I? Well, let me tell you about it. The Esmaldi necklace belonged to one of those South American dictators who are always in trouble. He had to get out fast. . . so fast, all he took with him was his wife’s necklace that had been in the family for a couple of generations. He ran into Sol Cohen and Sol bought the necklace off him. No one knows what he paid for it. Sol stashed it away, planning to give it to Lisa as a wedding present. The necklace consisted of one hundred matched diamonds the size of garden peas. The setting was platinum and the lot — so the newspapers said — was worth around three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

‘Lisa wore it at the wedding. Then she put it in her Raysons’ safe and went off on the honeymoon in the yacht to the Bahamas.

‘She and Harry cruised for a month. During that time Harry gave her value for money. Lisa practically killed him. She was insatiable. There were times when he wanted to jump overboard and swim ashore, but he didn’t.

‘When the mood hit her, and sometimes it would hit her two or three times a day, she would look directly at him and say, “Harry. . .” Then she would leave her lounging chair and walk down to their cabin. Harry would follow like a sheep to the slaughter.

‘He had what she wanted and he gave it to her. If only she had been attractive! Harry often thought, but she was bony, her breasts were like poached eggs and her ribs showed, but at least she had technique! Boy! Had she technique!

‘After two weeks, Harry was longing to get off the yacht. If the goddamn yacht had struck a reef, he would have cheered with joy. But finally, like everything in this world, things had to come to an end, and they moved into their new, palatial home.

‘It was better then because Harry began to work at the downtown office. He had only Lisa in his hair from six o’clock in the evening onwards, but that was bad enough. He discovered there were two things that Lisa was mad about: he getting astride her and she getting astride a horse. She practically lived on a horse when he was in the office. She had three thoroughbreds and she was always out in the woods or galloping along the bridle paths, either on her own or with other women who were also horse crazy.

‘In the evenings, there were always parties: either thrown by Lisa or thrown by someone else. Harry was a great party man and he was popular. On the face of it, the marriage seemed to be going well. It was bed time that Harry feared. But so long as he did his duty, he found Lisa surprisingly easy to live with. It was doing his duty that stuck in his throat.

‘He hoped Lisa would get enough of sex to cool off as the time went on, but she didn’t. She just couldn’t get enough of him. There were times when it drove Harry crazy. There were times too when he unexpectedly ran into some of his past girlfriends who gave him the eye and he knew he had only to return the signal to have someone who really had a body and not a piece of scrawn, but Harry was honest. He knew the value of what he was getting and he was determined not to cheat — besides, he was so handled by Lisa, the urge just wasn’t there.