I Can Get It for You Wholesale (17 page)

“Why, what are
you
doing here so late?” I said. “You don’t have to stick around as late as all this, Miss Marmelstein, you know.”

“Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Bogen,” she said eagerly. “I haven’t got anything special to do to-night, anyway.”

My heart bled for her.

“Did you want something, Mr. Bogen?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Get me Intervale 9-929—no, never mind. Forget it.”

I turned on my heel and went back into my private office. For another moment I stood at my desk, hesitating. Then I said, “The hell with it,” and reached for my hat.

“I’m going up to Toney Frocks for a few minutes, Miss Marmelstein,” I said to her on the way out. “If anybody calls me, and it’s important, you can probably reach me there for the next quarter of an hour or so. Otherwise, don’t bother. You can close up any time you want to. Good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Bogen,” she said lingeringly.

I didn’t even turn back. She couldn’t kid me. I wasn’t
that
good.

When I reached Toney Frocks the girl at the information window was fixing her hat in her pocket mirror which she had propped up against her switchboard.

“I’d like to see Mr. Ast,” I said, “Teddy Ast.”

“Mr. Ast is gone,” she said without looking up. “Any message?”

“No,” I said, “no message. What time does he usually get in in the morning, do you know?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, “but he won’t be in to-morrow morning—”

“Why not?”

“He went away for the week end. He won’t be back till Monday.”

“Oh!” I said, and stood there, hesitating. I couldn’t make up my mind whether I was sorry or not. The evening was free now, and there was no excuse for not making the call. “Where did Mr. Ast go for the week end, do you know?”

“Totem Manor,” she said; then, “say—!”

“That’s all right,” I said, “I’m a friend of his.”

I went back to the elevator, pushed the button, and got in. I was watching the lights at the top of the car that winked on and off to indicate the floor we were passing. When the light for “18” went on I made up my mind. “Okay,” I said to myself and put my hand in my pocket for a nickel.

I went into a phone booth in Liggett’s and dialed Intervale 9-9294. A woman’s voice got on the wire.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” I said, “is this Intervale 9-9294?”

“Yes.”

“Is Ruthie home?”

“You mean Betty, no?”

I guess whoever she was, she had her orders.

“Yeah,” I said, “that’s right. Is she home?”

“No, she’s not home yet. But I expect her any minute. Maybe you wanna leave a message?”

“We-ell, I don’t know. I’ll tell you, who’s this talking?”

“This is her mother.”

“Oh, well, I’ll call again. Never mind.”

“You sure you don’t want to—? Oh, hello, hello?”

“Yes?”

“Here she is now, she just came in this minute. Hold the wire, please.”

Well, here I go, I thought. After a few moments of silence another voice got on the wire. I recognized it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” I said. Damn it, I should have cleared my throat. “Who’s this, Betty?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Harry Bogen. Remember me?”

“Why, of course,” she said with a laugh. “What ever made you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You know how those things are.”

I guess she had me hypnotized all right. I couldn’t even make the properly sarcastic comebacks that her remarks really earned for her. And the hell of it was that I didn’t think it was the ten thousand dollars Mother said they were passing out to the guy that carried her to the altar, either.

“Oh, I don’t forget people as easily as all that,” she said.

“That’s where you’ve got it over most girls, then,” I said.

“Oh, I think you’re too critical of girls in general,” she said.

“I don’t think I am,” I said. “Not of girls in general anyway.”

The next step was epigrams. God, how do I get into these things?

“Well—” she began, and paused.

That was better. At least we were back on safe ground again.

“Look,” I said, “I didn’t call so we could have a long discussion about girls in general. I like to be more specific than that.”

She laughed and I was glad I was at the other end of the phone to hear it.

“All right,” she said, “be more specific.”

“Well, what are you doing to-night?” I asked.

“Oh—I don’t know. Nothing special, I guess. Why?”

I’m the inquiring photographer, and I’m conducting a poll to discover how many girls—aah, nuts.

“Then suppose we do it together,” I said. “What do you say?”

“All right,” she said.

“Fine,” I said. “Now, where would you like to go?”

“Oh—I don’t care. Any place at all that you say. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”

If she didn’t come from Fox Street and Mama hadn’t introduced her to me and there wasn’t something about her face and voice that warned you all over in spite of the fact that your common sense told you at a glance that she wasn’t pretty—if it wasn’t for all that, I’d know where to take her all right. But like this I was stopped.

“It doesn’t make any difference to me, either,” I said. “But anything you like I’m sure I’ll like too. So just say the word,” I said.

“Well, then, let’s see. Oh, I know. I’ll tell you what I’d really
like
to do.”

“What?”

“I’d like to go up to the Stadium Concert,” she said.

Well, that’s what I got for asking for suggestions.

“Okay with me,” I said, “if you really want to go.”

“Oh, I’d love it. They’re having a special Viennese program to-night and Albert Spalding is the soloist.”

“Who?”

“Albert Spalding.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll have to go then, that’s all. Let’s see, now, what time is it?”

I looked at my wristwatch.

“Seven o’clock,” she said.

“That’s right,” I said. “Now, then, when do these—when does this concert start?”

“Eight-thirty, I
think
.”

“That gives me an hour and a half to get the tickets and to come up to your—”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly. “Why should you travel all the way up to the Bronx and back?” That’s just what
I
was trying to figure out. “Why don’t you go up to the Stadium, get the tickets, and then I’ll meet you at—well, any place you say.”

“Well, I’ll tell you the truth,” I said, “I don’t know much about the neighborhood up there—”

“All right,” she said, “here, I’ve got it. The Stadium, you know, is on Amsterdam Avenue between a Hundred and Thirty-eight and a Hundred and Thirty-seventh Streets. Across the street, I mean across the Avenue, is the Hebrew Orphan Asylum. Suppose we meet there, right in front of the main entrance to the Orphan Asylum?”

“That’s the first time I ever met a girl in front of an orphan asylum,” I said with a laugh. Come on, Bogen, be natural. She’s not paying you. You don’t have to laugh at
all
of them. “But for you I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said sweetly, “I’m—”

I felt my face wrinkle up as I scowled into the mouthpiece. Before I knew I was talking, I said, “Don’t ever say that,” sharply.

“Don’t say what?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I mean—I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“But I don’t understand. What were we talking about?”

“I was saying that this is the first time I ever arranged to meet a girl in front of an orphan asylum, but for you I’d do it.”

Her voice, when she spoke, was suddenly sharp and cool.

“And
I
was about to say,” she said, “that I was going to consider that a compliment. Would you mind telling me what’s wrong in that?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “And you’re right—it is.”

“It is what?”

“A compliment,” I said.

“Then what did you mean when you said—?”

“It’s not important,” I said. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“All right,” she said, laughing the way I liked to hear her, “then it’s the Hebrew Orphan Asylum at, say, eight-fifteen.”

“Right,” I said, and hung up.

During the next hour and a quarter I had a chance to call myself as many different kinds of a horse’s ass as I could think of. And I could think of plenty. But after I’d gone through the whole list, it still didn’t help. The fact remained that I was going to a concert and, worse than that, that I was actually looking forward to it.

I could think of an answer, of course. I knew how to read and understand English, and I’d seen a movie or two in my day, so I knew what the answer was supposed to be. But I was damned if I’d admit that a thing like that could happen to me.

But being certain of immunity couldn’t change the fact that I was pacing around nervously in front of an orphan asylum on Amsterdam Avenue, all but biting my nails, waiting for what my common sense told me was as Jewish-looking a broad as I’d ever seen in my life.

Hell, I said finally, I guess the smartest of us will do more for ten thousand dollars than we’re willing to admit.

When I saw her turn the corner into Amsterdam Avenue, I went forward to meet her.

“Hello,” I said, taking her arm, “I was beginning to get scared that you wouldn’t show up.”

“Oh, I don’t think you were
scared
,” she said.

That’s how much
she
knew about it.

“Well, maybe—” I said, staring at her.

She looked frightened and began to examine her dress and purse and hands.

“Is there anything wrong?” she asked.

“No,” I said, still staring hard, “nothing’s wrong. I’m just trying to discover two things.”

“What?”

“Whether you look the same as you did the other night when we had blintzes,” I said, “and whether you’re as pretty as my mother keeps saying you are.”

She blushed suddenly and looked down at her hands with an embarrassed smile and for the first time in my life I knew what it meant to want to kiss a girl. I mean, just to
kiss
her.

“Oh, I think your mother is—I mean, she’s too—”

“Maybe she is,” I said, still staring. “But I don’t think so.”

“Well,” she said in a slightly higher-pitched tone of voice, “shall we go in?”

“We might as well,” I said, putting my arm through hers. It was amazing how warm she was, even through the thickness of a dress and a light summer coat. “I got the best seats in the house.”

“You mean the ones at the tables downstairs?” she said, stopping.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that. It’s—”

“Forget it,” I said, patting her arm. “They’re only a dollar and a half a piece.”

“It isn’t that,” she said. “But it’s so much nicer in the fifty cent seats, high up in the Stadium.”

“You mean way up there on those stone seats?”

She nodded.

“It’s not as comfortable as the ones downstairs,” she said, “but they’re not as uncomfortable as they look. And it’s really much more—well, sort of private. But it doesn’t matter. If you have these already, why—”

“Just a moment,” I said. I took the tickets out of my pocket and tore them in half and tossed them in the gutter.

“Oh!” she said, “you shouldn’t—”

“Why not?” I said, remembering to kick myself. I don’t like that kind of cheap flash. “No sense in sitting out in the open like an actor on a stage with the whole world staring at you. I should’ve had more sense than to buy those tickets, anyway. Come on, we’ll get a couple of those other tickets.”

There was quite a crowd going in when I stopped to buy two of the cheaper tickets. It never occurred to me that there were that many people in the world who were willing to spend money to sit on stone steps and listen to music. Well, and I guess it never occurred to me that I’d be one of them, either.

“Let’s go over toward this end,” she said, leading me toward the left. “We can climb up to the top row there, and it won’t be very crowded. Most of the people sit lower down and toward the right.”

“You seem to know a lot about this place, don’t you?” I said.

“Oh, I come here pretty often,” she said.

“Alone?” I asked.

She blushed and I was sorry I’d asked.

“Sometimes,” she said awkwardly. “Sometimes with some other girls or some—”

“Hold it a second,” I said. “I want to get a couple of these.”

I bought two straw mats from a boy that was selling them, and we continued to climb the wide cement steps.

“You don’t really need them,” she said. “It’s just as comfortable sitting on the stone.”

“I suppose,” I said. But I couldn’t imagine her sitting on anything so hard and not hurting herself seriously.

“This ought to be about right,” she said finally, and I spread the mats on the cement step and we sat down.

The huge Stadium stretched away below and to the right of us. It was getting dark quickly, but there was still enough light to see the tiers, arranged like the rays from a flashlight, and how crowded they were. Down below, at the focus of the rays, was the orchestra, with the men tuning their instruments. The sky was blue with a few stars beginning to show and a handful of clouds moving across it slowly. I hadn’t looked at the sky for a month. Somehow you get out of the habit downtown.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she said.

I nodded and looked around at the people near us. Most of them were couples of about our own age; they were sitting very close to one another and were whispering and holding hands and laughing for all the world as though they were alone up there. And none of them paid any attention to the others. I considered it a good sign. They had sense.

Just as the music started she turned to me suddenly and said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I forgot in all the excitement about the tickets. What was it you meant when you said to me on the phone before, ‘Don’t ever say that,’ or something like that?”

It was pretty dark, now, and the only lights were down in the center of the Stadium, with the orchestra.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t mean anything,” I said. “Let’s just forget it.”

That marked another first in my life. For once I was afraid to say something to a dame.