King Cole (8 page)

“Yes.”

Read was really a very good dancer and was rather proud of this social accomplishment, but dancing was almost out of the question in that small, noisy, brilliantly lighted, smoke-filled living-room. Gregg’s Old-Timers waved at Read and smiled and told him they were all going to vote for him and asked him where he had been keeping himself. It was a mixed group, representing about all there was of Upper Bohemia in Midland City. There was Lou Edwards, associate editor of the
Examiner,
dancing with Vivian Paul, who had a little money and messed with wet clay, calling herself a sculptress, but not taking it very seriously. There was Bob Crail, who wrote dramatic and music criticism for the
Independent, 
dancing with Alice Tod, who was somebody’s secretary at Meadows, Hannum and Company and was trying to get started as a writer. There was Pat Garrison, former Ohio State football player, now assistant director of the State Highway Department, dancing with Georgia Carter, a professional beauty, who had been Miss Ohio ten years ago, and was now a rich widow with literary leanings. And finally, there was Ace McCord, a rather disreputable rich young man who played polo and piloted airplanes and thought he could sing, dancing with Charlotte Blair, a distant relative of the Meadows family, who had married the wrong man, divorced him, and was now slowly descending the social scale.

Read smiled and nodded and tried to guide his partner through this frolicking bunch without collisions. But finally he had to give it up.

“This isn’t a dance,” he said; “this is a riot. Let’s sit down.”

Just then Gregg’s Jap boy, Bobby, came in with a tray of drinks. Darting away from Read, the blond woman took two glasses from the tray, then came back. She and Read sat down on a big red lounge. She gave him one of the glasses and he began to sip a very strong gin drink.

“I don’t take any chances,” she said. “I got left out last time. Funny, but I’ll bet you don’t even know my name.”

“I can’t quite…”

“Oh, stop pretending, Governor. I’m Ina Dodson. Pleased to meet you and all that sort of thing. I’m surely glad you came. We’re short a man. Imagine the Governor walking in at the psychological moment, or something. Gregg’s terribly drunk.”

“Really?”

“I never saw him worse. He walks all right and he looks all right. But, my; he wants to argue with everybody about everything.”

“Where is he?”

“Well, it’s a long story…”

Pat Garrison came over to shake hands, bringing Georgia Carter with him. She was very good-looking, but tried to appear too young. So far as she was concerned, she was still Miss Ohio at thirty-three. She smiled a practiced, seductive smile at Read.

“Hello, Governor,” said Pat. “Gregg will be back in a minute. We got to arguing and he…”

Ina shooed them away.

“Go dance. I want to tell about Gregg.”

They danced off, laughing. Then Ina said:

“Well, we all got to arguing about women. You know. Pat said Georgia was the best-looking woman he’d ever seen. Naturally, she didn’t disagree with him. But a lot of people did. They were just tight enough. Lou said his idea of heaven was to be married to Dolores Del Rio. Only that isn’t what he said, exactly. And so it went, as it says in the storybook. Gregg got pretty offensive, but for a long time we didn’t know what he was talking about. So finally he says: ‘All right. You don’t believe me. I’ll go get her.’ It seems there is a very lovely lady some place in Midland City. Gregg’s gone after her.”

Read laughed.

“What a man!” He lifted his glass to drink from it, then suddenly he paused, struck by a premonition. Could it be? No, that was silly. It was getting to be an obsession with him! “Is it somebody we know?” he asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well,” said Read, trying to be funny, “I can hardly wait.”

An hour passed. Everybody but Read began to get pretty tight. Ina was getting more and more confidential and intimate, making big eyes at “the Governor”; and when they danced out into the little hallway she would put her cheek against his and get up very close and make little cooing noises in her throat. Read observed to himself: “Why not? It might do me good. I put too much restraint on myself.” But there was something a little vulgar about Ina that slightly repelled him. Eileen Bradley had spoiled him for these one-night affairs, though he wasn’t entirely conscious of the fact.

“Lord,” said Ina, “but it’s getting hot and stuffy in here. I can hardly stand it.”

“Shall I open a window?”

“Well, you might. But I’ll bet it would be nicer down in my apartment.”

She looked up; Read avoided her eyes.

“You live here?”

“Floor below.”

They danced silently for a moment. Read glanced at the others. No, it wouldn’t do. Too many to talk about it later. And what about Gregg?

“Didn’t you come with Gregg?”

She caught on at once. Looking up, she smiled innocently.

“No; I didn’t. I was supposed to come with Ray Muller from the
Examiner
but at the last minute he couldn’t get away. I just came, anyway. Gregg said it didn’t matter.”

Read hesitated. Then they heard laughter in the outside hall. A key rattled against the lock; a man cursed. A woman’s voice said:

“Let me try, silly.”

Read glanced at Ina. Her face was red with annoyance.

The door opened. Gregg came in with a shout, dragging a girl by the arm. The girl was round-eyed and bewildered and extremely pretty. Read started. It was the check-girl.

“Oh, gee!” she cried when she saw Read. “He made me come. I didn’t want to. He kicked up a terrible fuss. I was afraid people would think…”

Ina glanced at Read.

“Oh, a friend of yours.”

“No, I’m not,” said the girl. “But I’ve seen Governor Cole at the hotel where I work. Well, anyway; I don’t need to worry now. If you’re here, this party must be all right.”

“A very brilliant deduction,” cried Gregg, slamming the door. “Read, what are you doing here? I thought you said… well, never mind. Come in, Kitten. Meet the bunch.”

Somebody turned off the radio. The people in the living-room stood in a group, staring at the check-girl.

“Take off your hat and fix your hair, Kitten. Don’t make a liar out of me,” said Gregg.

“It’s not my fault,” said the girl, addressing the group in the living-room. “I still don’t know what it’s all about.” Then she went over to a mirror and taking off her hat, began to comb her lustrous, curly, dark-brown hair. Once she turned and smiled at Read, who stood with a red face, staring. Finally she took off her coat. She had on a plain dark-blue dress with a big white frill at the collar; her dress clung tightly to her plump body. Lou Edwards whistled and said:

“Where have you been all my life?”

“I heard that one before,” said the girl, coming over and standing beside Read. “What’s this all about, Governor?”

“Ask Gregg.”

“Mr. Upham? What am I supposed to do, Mr. Upham? I ought to do something for ten bucks.”

“I’ll say you should,” said Lou Edwards.

“I don’t like that crack,” said the girl. “Governor, I’m surprised at you being with these people.”

“They’re all a little tight,” said Read. “Don’t mind them. You’re safe enough. Nothing to worry about.”

Georgia laughed a little unpleasantly.

“Lou seems to go for brunettes. She’s young enough to be your daughter, Lou.”

“Not quite.”

“Say,” said the girl, “I don’t like to be stared at. How come you don’t introduce me to people, Mr. Upham?”

Gregg, very drunk, bowed low and almost fell over.

“People meet Kitten Reese. Kitten, meet everybody. Now that’s settled. Well, you people, what do you say? Got anything to beat her? She’d be Miss Ohio overnight.”

The girl laughed.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t. I went into one of them contests at Olentangy Park. I didn’t get to first base.”

“The other girls must have had friends.”

“No,” said the girl, seriously; “I’m too short. My legs aren’t long enough. I don’t look good in a bathing suit.”

“That’s what you think,” said Lou Edwards.

“Say, who is that guy?”

“Don’t mind him,” said Read.

“Do I win my bet?” cried Gregg.

“What bet? Nobody bet.”

There was a prolonged uproar. Read turned and sat down on the big red lounge. He lit a cigarette. The girl hesitated, then came to sit with him.

“Can I have one?”

Read offered her his pack. She took a cigarette and he held the match for her. Noticing that his hand was shaking, she held it steady, then laughed. ”You’re nervous.”

“A little.”

She glanced about her hurriedly; everybody was arguing; nobody was paying any attention to her except Ina Dodson, who was glaring.

“Really,” she said, “are these the kind of people you run around with, Governor?”

“Not entirely.”

“Oh, I get it. Sort of cutting loose.”

Read laughed.

“Yes, I guess so. Is your name really Kitten?”

“No, but that’s what everybody calls me. My name’s Mary. It’s too simple; I don’t like it. I used to call myself Ramona, but, I don’t know, I kind of got tired of that.”

“I say you
did,”
cried Gregg above the tumult. “Oh, hell. I might have known you’d all welsh. All right. Turn on the music. Let’s dance. Bobby, Bobby! More drinks.” He came over to the lounge. ”Don’t waste your time with that ascetic, middle-aged man, Kitten. Dance with me.”

“No. I want to sit here. I’m tired. I have been on my feet all evening. Say, what do I have to do to earn that ten?”

“Nothing, honey. Just be yourself.”

Gregg glanced from Read to Kitten, then he shrugged and began to dance with Ina, who was very very nice to him and danced cheek to cheek whenever she thought Read was looking.

“Say,” said Kitten, leaning toward Read, “that Mr. Upham; is he nuts?”

“No. Drunk. He thinks you’re the best-looking girl in the city. That’s why he brought you up here.”

“He
is
nuts.”

Read glanced at his watch, then started
. A quarter to three! Getting up, he found that he was quite drunk and that the room swayed a little. Georgia Carter was sleeping on the divan with an arm flung across her face; Pat Garrison was sitting nearby, nodding in a chair, trying to pretend that he was still enjoying the party. The rest, with the exception of Kitten, were still dancing, laughing and talking. Kitten had been sitting on the lounge with Read. She had danced once with Gregg and once with Read, but had refused to dance with the other men. Read could see that she did not approve of these people at all; and this seemed very funny to him.

He put down his glass, was pushed aside by Gregg, who was dancing with Ina; then he laughed and went back to the lounge.

“I’ve got to go,” he said.

She jumped up.

“Me, too. Will it be all right with Mr. Upham?”

“Did you get your money?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then you haven’t anything to worry about.”

“Well, gee; it’s nearly three. How will I get home? I just won’t ride one of them owl cars with the drunks.”

Read hesitated. He knew what he should do; go home; forget about Kitten Reese, who was just a commonplace little girl after all. He had a hard three days ahead of him; he needed rest.

“Let Gregg get a taxi for you.”

Kitten stamped her foot.

“I thought you’d take me. I want to go with you.”

Read was pleased.

“Well,” he said, hesitating a little, “come on.” They went out into the hallway. Read held her coat for her. “It’s funny,” she said, laughing; “the Governor helping me on with my coat.”

Gregg pulled away from Ina, who was drunk and amorous and entirely oblivious of Read now, and came out into the hallway.

“Going, Read?”

“It’s nearly three. Do you keep this up all the time?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Gregg, staring at them foggily. “To tell you the truth, all days and all nights are getting to be pretty much the same to me. Read, don’t take that girl with you. You’re tight. I can tell it.”

“He’s going to take me home,” said Kitten, sharply.

“Don’t worry, Kitten,” said Gregg. “Stick around. I’ll get you home. The Governor don’t want you tagging along. I’ll bet you live to hell and gone.”

“I don’t live six blocks from the Governor’s Mansion; north of Long Street.”

“Oh, over in the black belt. Is there a nigger in your woodpile, honey?”

“You shut up. I didn’t want to come up here, but you made me. You thought it was a swell joke; I wasn’t good enough for that bunch of drunks in there. Just look at ’em.” She turned and smiled at Read. “But I’m glad I came.”

“Oh,” said Gregg, “I get it. Read, for God’s sake, have some sense. Don’t let that little slicker tie on to you.”

Read flushed slightly.

“I know my own business. Anyway, you brought her up here. You didn’t show any too much sense. I think it’s up to me to see that she gets home.”

“Put her in a taxi. When I waved a ten-dollar bill in her face she began to listen to reason. That will give you a rough idea.”

“Go ahead,” said the girl, heatedly. “Insult me. But I’m a lot better than you are; you and your frowzy old women.”

Read put his hand on her arm.

“Not so loud. You don’t want them to hear you in there. They didn’t do anything to you. Do you want to hurt their feelings?”

She turned and looked up at Read docilely.

“No, I don’t. But he oughtn’t to talk that way to me. If I can use ten dollars, that’s none of his business, and it’s not my fault. We can’t all be rich.”

“What a line!” said Gregg, snorting with disgust. Then he studied Read’s face. “And he’s just drunk enough to fall for it.”

Read took the girl by the arm.

“Goodnight, Gregg. Nice party.”

“Don’t be an ass, Read. There’s an election in a few days. Suppose that wild Irishman that drives your car would climb a pole. Wouldn’t you like to see the headlines in the
Independent?”

Read laughed. He was feeling perverse now.

“I might get the women’s vote.”

“Well, I’d think you would,” said Kitten. “A good-looking guy like you.”