Get a Load of This (22 page)

     Slug didn't offer to pay for it, and Brownrigg, after a moment's hesitation, decided to let it ride. Just then Rose came out from behind the curtained doorway and stood looking at Slug with a little smile.
     Slug could hardly believe his eyes, she looked so beautiful. Her dress clung to her figure, revealing curves that he had suspected but was never quite sure were there. It was a bottle-green affair, tight in the bodice and round her neat hips and then flowed loosely to her feet. Her hair was dressed low to her shoulders, and her make-up was flawless, startling and provocative. He thought she looked like a high-class movie star.
     “You look swell,” he said, and meant it.
     She moved a little to the right and then to the left so that he could admire her more easily. “You like me?” she asked. “That's fine. You don't look such a tramp yourself, you know.”
     Brownrigg nodded his approval. “You look a grand couple,” he said. “Now get along an' enjoy yourselves, I want to shut down.”
     Rose moved past Slug and he caught the scent of a heady perfume. He followed her out, feeling a little dazed. It was as if he were experiencing a magnificent dream.
     As soon as they were outside, Rose glanced up and down the street and frowned. “Where's the car?” she asked.
     Slug, who had every intention of taking a trolley, felt a sudden twinge of apprehension. “I ain't gotta car,” he said.
     “Oh, don't say ain't, it's vulgar,” she said a little sharply. “I thought you were bound to have a car. Well, get a taxi. It's quite cold standing here.”
     Slug said, “Sure, sure,” rather feebly, and waved at a yellow cab that cruised by on the opposite side of the road.
     The driver recognized him and gaped, then he looked past Slug and saw Rose. His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips. “Where to, buddy?” he asked. “A run round the park?”
     Slug scowled at him. “'Ambassadors',” he said shortly, jerking open the door.
     The driver whistled. “O.K., big-shot,” he said, “'Ambassadors' it is.”
     Slug climbed in and sat down beside Rose. She had settled herself in a corner and had arranged her dress carefully on the seat so that Slug had to squash himself up in the far corner to avoid crushing it. Behind this brittle but impassable barrier, she surveyed him with a bright smile.
     “Gee! I can hardly believe that we're going to the 'Ambassadors',” she said. “Harry will be green with envy when I tell him.”
     Slug scowled. “You better lay off seein' that guy any more,” he said. “You're my girl now, an' I don't like other guys hornin' in on my ground.”
     She laughed. “Don't be silly,” she said. “I'm nobody's girl. I go where I like and do what I like and no one dictates to me.”
     Slug looked at her and decided that it wasn't time to try any heavy stuff. This dame was tough and would want a lot of handling; but looking at her in the flickering lights of the passing street lamps, he decided that any trouble would be well repaid with a dame of this class.
     He reached out a hand and tried to take hers, but she avoided him. “Please don't,” she said a little sharply. “I don't want my dress to get creased.”
     Slug sat back with a little scowl, but she immediately went on to ask him about the fight and talked to him gaily until his good humour was restored.
     The cab slowed down and then swung into the kerb. The door was opened by a tall, uniformed porter, who touched his peaked cap respectfully with a snowy white glove.
     Slug got out hurriedly and stood in the bright lights from the big neon sign that spelled 'Ambassadors'. He paid the cab-driver and gave the porter some small change. Then he followed Rose through the revolving doors that were kept on the move by two bell-hops dressed in white with scarlet pill-box hats.
     The big hall was crowded with people who stood about laughing and talking, waiting for their parties to arrive. Feeling that he would like the earth to open and swallow him up, Slug slunk along behind Rose, who moved across the hall towards the ladies' room. She turned for a moment and said, “I'll meet you here in a few minutes,” and disappeared through a group of expensively dressed women.
     Slug looked helplessly round, conscious that the women were eyeing him with interest. A guy suddenly appeared at his elbow, dressed in what looked like a fantastic fancy dress, and took his hat from him. “This way, sir,” he said, in a soothing voice, and led Slug over to the cloakroom, where a hat-check girl was checking in a big party of men.
     Slug watched with round eyes the casual way these guys tossed dollars into a plate on the counter as each received a check. Finally his turn came and the girl looked at him with a friendly smile as she gave him his number. Slug thought she'd make a nice tumble, and put his dollar in the plate without any regrets.
     “Some joint,” he said hoarsely, “sortta puts the White House in the shade, don't it?”
     The girl gave him a quick, puzzled glance, smiled again automatically and went on giving out numbers.
     Slug drifted back towards the ladies' room and concealed himself as best he could behind a large clump of palms that swayed a little from a huge brass tub.
     He hadn't been standing there more than a few minutes, when a tall, distinguished-looking man, holding an elaborately designed leather folder, approached him. “You are taking the dinner, monsieur?” he asked, bowing to Slug, who gave ground.
     “What the hell's it to do with you what I'm doin'?” Slug asked fiercely.
     The man remained quite unperturbed. “You will pardon me, monsieur,” he said quietly, “I am merely here to make your visit a pleasant one. Is monsieur alone? Has monsieur booked a table?”
     It dawned on Slug that this guy was trying to help him, and he clutched his arm as if he expected him to lose patience with him and go away.
     “Listen, pal,” he said urgently, “you're just the guy I was lookin' for. I gotta dame here, see? She's class, do you get it? I want this little business to go off good. I got the dough, an' I want you to fix the rest for me. O.K.?”
     The man bowed. “Certainly, monsieur,” he said; “you would like to leave all the arrangements to me?”
     “You got it, pal, you got it,” Slug said feverishly. “Just give the dame a good time.”
     The man made a little note inside the folder. “When you are ready, monsieur, your table is number eighteen. Just through that door on your right. Everything will be to your entire satisfaction.”
     He went away smoothly as if he were being drawn along on wheels.
     Feeling that he had at least one friend in the camp, Slug took up his position rather impatiently behind the palm again.
     Rose came out of the ladies' room eventually, looking cool and beautiful. She seemed to fit in with the luxurious background.
     Slug said, “Gee, I thought you'd got lost.”
     She shook her head. “Have you arranged anything?” she asked, as if she quite expected that he had done no such thing.
     More confident, Slug put a hot, heavy hand on her arm. “Sure,” he said, “I fixed all this up yesterday. We got number eighteen table. The eats are all ordered, so come on in an' get the nosebag on.”
     She moved her arm, trying to escape his touch, but Slug was grimly determined that she should begin to realize that this wasn't going to be all her outing.
     The splendour of the dining-room shook him considerably, but the head waiter was there to receive him, and under a battery of staring eyes Slug eventually sat down at a little table near the band.
     Unfortunately, the dinner was quite beyond Slug's powers to appreciate. In fact, he hated nearly all of it. The champagne irritated the back of his nose and the various French dishes made him feel slightly sick. The problem of the mass of silver cutlery before him reduced him to limp, sweating embarrassment.
     On the other hand, Rose thoroughly enjoyed herself. She did not appear to notice his silence, but talked gaily about the people, the band and the luxury of the place. She laughed heartily at the various cabaret turns and made Slug shuffle round the tiny dance-floor.
     It seemed to go on for ever. New, clean plates kept appearing before him, dishes holding food he could not name were offered to him. His glass seemed to fill itself, and he became more and more sour as he realized how completely out of touch he was with this world.
     In fact, when a tall, strikingly handsome man suddenly stopped at their table and asked Rose for a dance, he just sat there and watched them go away together. He was almost relieved to have a few minutes to himself.
     The head waiter glided up to him and asked him if everything was satisfactory. Slug knew he had done his best for him, and he grinned ruefully.
     “I guess this ain't quite my mark,” he said frankly, scratching his head. “Maybe some guys get a kick out of this, but to me it's just one big pain.” He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly one o'clock. “I guess we'll blow,” he said. “Gimme the check before she comes back.”
     The head waiter bowed and put a folded slip of paper on a plate and then handed it to Slug. He took it and glanced at it indifferently. He knew the evening was going to be an expensive one, and he was too far gone to worry about how much it was going to cost. When he saw the neat, pencilled figures he sat up. “What the hell's this,” he asked—“a hundred and twenty-five bucks?”
     The head waiter bowed. “That is correct,” he said gently. “It is our usual charge.”
     Slug went cold from head to foot. Any moment Rose might come back. He pushed back his chair hurriedly and was about to stand up.
     “A moment, monsieur,” the head waiter said. “I'm afraid the amount embarrasses monsieur?”
     Slug blew out his cheeks. “You got somethin' there, pal,” he said. “I got a hundred bucks towards it. Hell! I didn't know this joint went in for daylight robbery.”
     “Monsieur is mistaken. We have never had any trouble before with our bills. Perhaps monsieur shouldn't have come.”
     Slug nodded miserably. “I guess you're right,” he said. “The dame wanted to come, so I just fell for it. What are you goin' to do—send for the cops?”
     The head waiter glanced round quickly, then he slid a twenty-five dollar note on to the plate. “Perhaps monsieur would accept a loan?” he suggested. “I have been in similar situations myself when young.”
     Slug gaped at him. “Gee!” he said at last. “Why, hell, that's white of you. You'll get it back, pal, you'll get it back all right.”
     The head waiter lifted his shoulders. “If monsieur will now settle his bill, I will call a taxi.”
     Slug hurriedly dropped the hundred dollars on the plate and stood up. He had exactly two dollars left in his pocket. “Sure,” he said, “I guess I won't be around here any more.”
     The head waiter bowed. “Monsieur would be a lot happier somewhere else, no doubt,” he said, and went away, holding the plate before him.
     The band had stopped playing and Rose was coming back to the table. The tall, handsome guy was laughing and talking with her. They looked very happy. However, as they approached he caught Slug's eye and decided that perhaps it would be wiser to retire, and with a few words to Rose he disappeared into the crowd that was surging back to their tables.
     Rose sat down. “I hope you didn't mind,” she said gaily; “he could dance. Isn't this a lovely evening? Is there any more champagne left?”
     Slug kept his temper under control with an effort. “We're goin' home now, honey,” he said. “Come on, let's scram.”
     “Home?” she said. “I don't want to go home. It's not late. Let's have another dance.”
     Slug stepped round to her and drew her upright. “I said we're beatin' it,” he said tensely; “c'm on.”
     As people were already glancing at them, Rose followed him out of the dining-room. Slug snatched up his hat from the check girl and hurried Rose into the street. A taxi was waiting for them.
     As soon as they had settled down in the taxi, Rose rounded on him. “What's the idea?” she asked. “You've quite spoilt the evening. I was havin' such a good time. Why did you come away like that?”
     Slug slid over to her corner. “I just wanted to get you alone for a while, baby,” he said, feeling that, at all costs, he was not going to see his money spent for nothing.
     “Oh, do get away,” she said irritably, “you're crushing my dress,” and she tried to push him back.
     He slid his arm behind her and pulled her to him. “Never mind about your dress,” he said, trying to smile, “you've had a good time, ain't you? How about givin' me a good time for a change?”
     His thick lips pressed down on her mouth, holding her tightly to him. Her lips were hard and cold, but she did not struggle, and he finally drew away from her, feeling frustrated and suddenly hating her.
     She drew her hand across her lips. “You're rather coarse,” she said. “Don't think that I allow men to kiss me after a few hours' acquaintanceship, because I don't. I am sure you would feel no respect for me if I gave in to you now. I would have no respect for myself. Please sit away from me.”
     Slug drew further away. His mind was completely fuddled. His instincts told him to take this woman and break her as he had done others, but there was a barrier around her that he just could not break through. Her contempt held him at bay as effectively as if a bayonet were placed at his throat.
     They sat in silence all the way to the barber's shop, and when they got out into the street she said: “Thank you for the evening. I'm sorry it wasn't as nice for you as it was for me. Perhaps we had better not meet again.”
     Slug was too angry and too bewildered to say anything. He suddenly felt horribly deflated. The realization that he had lost all his money in one worthless evening, committed himself to a debt of fifty dollars to his manager and to the headwaiter, made the prospects of the next few weeks drab and colourless. His rules of life, though primitive, were simple enough. If you paid for anything, you got it. Well, he had given this dame a night out that ought to go down in history and she wasn't playing ball. All he had from her was a kiss that could not even be termed sisterly.
     She said quite brightly: “Well, good-bye, I live just across the way. You needn't bother further,” and with a casual wave of her hand she crossed the road and disappeared into a large apartment house.
     Slug spat on the pavement. A little spark of rage was beginning to kindle in his brain, but so far he was still too dazed to do anything about it. He wanted a drink badly, so he walked with great slouching strides to an all-night bar on Forty-ninth Street.