Once Is Not Enough (21 page)

Mike never looked after her. He stared at Dee, frozen with rage. When he spoke his voice was low and controlled. “You just cut off my balls in front of my daughter.”

Dee laughed nervously. “Oh, stop it, Mike . . . let’s not fight. We never have before.”

“And never will again!”

She came to him and put her arms around him. Her voice was silky but her eyes were frightened. “Mike, you know I love you . . .”

He shoved her away and left the table. She ran after him as he headed for the bedroom. “I’ll be packed and out in an hour.”

“Mike!” She grabbed his arm as he pulled a suitcase from the closet. But he shook her off. “Mike—” she pleaded. “Forgive me . . . please . . . please forgive me . . . don’t go. Please don’t go!”

He stopped and looked at her curiously. “Tell me something, Dee . . . why
did
you marry me?”

“Because I love you.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Oh, Mike . . . our first quarrel and it’s my fault. Forgive me. Please, angel. It’s not right for us to fight. It’s because of your daughter.” He pulled away but she ran after him. “Mike, I never had a child . . . I’m probably stepping out of line because of my eagerness to treat January like a daughter. I’m probably going about it all wrong . . . saying all the wrong things . . . being overbearing . . . overprotective . . . as I am with David. I never had a brother or sister . . . he’s been like a son to me. And now with January . . . I guess I pushed too hard. It’s just that I want her to be happy. And for us to fight is ridiculous. We both say things we don’t mean. It’s David and Karla I’m angry at . . . not you.” Her panic mounted as he continued to throw things into his bag. “Mike . . . don’t . . . please! I love you. How can I prove it? I’ll call January and apologize. I’ll do anything!”

He stopped and looked at her. “Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I never asked you for a thing, did I? I even signed a premarital agreement that if I divorced you I wouldn’t get a dime. Right?”

“I’ll tear it up,” she said.

“No, keep it. I don’t want a cent. But from now on—cut all this talk about how you love January and how concerned you are about her future. Put your money where your mouth is!”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to know that if some day I drop dead watching you play backgammon, my daughter is going to be a rich young lady.”

“I promise. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll leave her a million dollars in trust.”

He stared at her and his eyes were hard. “That’s chicken shit.”

“What do you want?”

“Ten million.”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right . . . I promise. Ten million.”

He smiled slightly. “And from now on, cool it on David. That’s an order. If he has a thing for Karla, it will have to burn out on its own and not because you demand it. But in any event, I’m not having January shoved at him. Remember that!”

“I promise.”

“And I don’t want any cracks about her job. Goddammit, she’s trying. She’s got ambition, and when you lose that, baby, you’ve really cashed in your chips.”

“I promise, Mike.” She put her arms around him and kissed his neck. “Now come on . . . smile. Don’t be angry.”

“You gonna stay out of her life and not butt in?”

“I’ll never mention her name to David again.”

“And the ten million you promised to lay on her is also a deal.”

She nodded.

He stared at her for a moment, then he swept her up and tossed her on the bed. “Okay. Now that we’ve had our first fight . . . let’s fuck and make up.”

David arrived at the Racquet Club five minutes early. His father’s voice had sounded urgent. That meant trouble. Just
when everything was going so great. Usually he hated Mondays, but he had awakened this morning feeling he owned the world. His date with January at the St. Regis had gone off without a hitch. She had bought the idea that running into Karla was an accident. She was even pleased about it . . . like a fan. And she certainly had no inkling that at midnight he and Karla had driven to Westport. Even now, he felt light-headed just thinking about it. It was the first time he had ever spent an entire night with her. He’d never get over the unbelievable sight of Karla in the kitchen the following morning, making him bacon and eggs. It had been the greatest twenty-four hours of his life. She had borrowed the country place from a friend and their privacy was perfect. The house was set back in the midst of six acres of its own property. Even the weather had cooperated. Sunday had been one of those rare days when autumn lives up to all of its poetic descriptions. To him autumn had always meant the beginning of winter. Early dusk; a gray rainy day on Wall Street; a dusty wind and no taxis. But autumn on a country road in Westport was an explosion of colored leaves that crunched underfoot, clear air and the feeling of complete isolation from the world.

And this had been a good Monday. The good weather had followed them into the city. Even New York’s rancid air seemed cleaner. The market had closed up three points for a change, and at three o’clock she had called to tell him he could escort her to Boris Grostoff’s. That meant he had really made her inner circle. Boris had been her favorite director and his small intimate dinners numbered among the few parties Karla attended.

He saw his father enter and rose to greet him. The old man waited until their drinks arrived. Then he came right to the point.

“What does January Wayne look like?”

David was startled by the question. “January? Why . . . she’s beautiful.”

“Really?” His father seemed surprised. He sipped his Scotch thoughtfully. “Then why is Dee so frantic about her?”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“She was in my office this morning to change her will. Her main concern seems to get this stepdaughter married. I figured the girl might be awkward-looking . . . or unattractive.”

David shook his head. “Actually she’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”

His father reached into his pocket and took out a slim leather-bound notebook. “I jotted down some of the changes she wants in the will. It’s in the process of being drawn up.”

“Do they concern me?”

“Very much. You are no longer an executor of the estate.”

David felt the blood rush to his face. “She cut me out!”

“I’ve been bruised also. Our office is now sharing the executor powers along with Yale Becker of Becker, Neiman and Boyd. But the door is still open for you, my boy—there’s a provision that
if
before Dee’s death, David Milford is married to someone who has met with her approval, he will then become an executor and head the foundation.”

“Why, that bitch,” David said softly.

“Oh, there’s more,” his father answered. “Her stepdaughter, January Wayne, will inherit one million dollars
when
she marries, and
ten
million is to be put in trust for her, to be paid out on the occasion of her father’s death—or Dee’s, should she predecease him.”

“I can’t believe it,” David said.

“I can’t either,” his father said. “Of course, it’s not an irrevocable trust. Dee can always change it. Odd that Mike Wayne didn’t think about that. Well, I guess it’s obvious that the man’s sophistication does not extend to the drawing up of a will. I find his faith rather childlike, especially knowing Dee. But for the moment it will probably stand because it looks to me as if she’s really in love with this man. This amazing generosity toward the daughter is pretty good insurance on his staying with her. One thing for sure—Mike Wayne seems to be running this marriage. And here’s the odd part—he wants nothing for himself, just this unbelievable inheritance for his daughter. It made me think the girl was totally unmarriageable and that the money was the only way to buy her a husband.”

David frowned. “She’s shoved January at me right from the start. She wants the girl married and out of the way. I think for the first time in her life, Dee is really in love. Also, she likes to run things, likes to feel her power. And with Mike Wayne she has no power—just through his daughter.”

“And she figured by getting her married to you, that would please him?”

“No. I think she wants January married because she thinks of her as a rival for Mike’s affections.”

“David, what on God’s earth are you talking about?”

“I can’t put my finger on it,” David said slowly. “But that first night—several times I caught them looking at each other. January and her father. And there was an intimacy in their eyes . . . not like a father and daughter. I was January’s date, but I actually felt he was my competition. Dee must have felt it too.”

“But why would she cut you out as executor of her will?”

David smiled. “It’s obvious she wants me to be the one to remove her competition. The bait is there . . . in black and white.”

“Good Lord. Do you have a chance? I mean, has the girl taken a shine to you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve taken her out. But—”

“Well, would you like to bring her to the house for dinner?”

“No, let me do it my way.” He sighed. “Well, I guess men have given up more for ten million dollars.”

“What are you giving up?” his father asked.

“Karla.”

His father stared. “Good God! I was smitten with her when I was your age. Never missed one of her films. Twenty-five years ago I used to moon over her. But now . . . good Lord . . . she has to be your mother’s age.”

“Karla is only fifty-two.”

“Your mother won’t be fifty until February.”

“I don’t think of age when I’m with Karla. And it’s not as if I intend to marry her. Look, Dad . . . I know it has to end. I know one day I’ll wake up and suddenly I’ll be bored with eating steaks in her kitchen and rushing to movies that I hate. And on that day I’ll break all records with a fifty-yard dash to January Wayne.”

“And do you think she’ll be there waiting?”

David sighed. “I try to keep my hand in. I really do. But right now I can’t give up Karla. Not yet . . .”

“Do many people know about this Karla affair?”

“No. She never socializes, except on rare occasions, like tonight. I’m escorting her to a director’s house for dinner.”

“That’s exactly how you’ll be known if this affair continues. An escort . . . to an ex-movie queen.” His father leaned across the table. “Suppose keeping your hand in isn’t enough for January. While you’re busy with Karla, suppose January meets another man, a man who meets with Dee’s approval. Perhaps even a broker at another brokerage house. And would this woman—Karla—place her money in your hands and allow you to manage her funds?”

David shook his head. “She’s known to be the tightest woman in the world.”

His father nodded. “Then let’s say she wouldn’t exactly be an asset to you at the brokerage house.”

David nodded. “You’ve made your point. And I have the distinct feeling that if I don’t start really romancing little January, Cousin Dee’s next move will be to change brokerage houses, too.”

His father raised his glass. “Well, hop to it, son. Hop to it.”

Nine

T
HE DANCE FLOOR
at Le Club was crowded. David held January close and inched her around the floor. He had taken her to Le Mistral for dinner. Several times he had held her hand and had been agreeably surprised at her response. Dee and Mike would be leaving for Palm Beach in less than a week, and he was determined to have January report the wonderful turn their relationship had taken. And once Dee was gone, it would be harder for her to keep track of just how
many
glowing evenings they had together. But at least she’d know he was in there pitching.

Of course a great deal depended on January’s reactions. He had to make her really fall in love with him. She was no Kim Voren. To Kim he represented not only a great stud, but security and a place in society. January didn’t need any of that. No, he had to come on strong with her . . . in bed. Once you hooked them in the feathers, the rest was easy. He could leave Kim alone for ten days and she’d still jump when he called.

All he needed was time. He had told Karla that Dee was forcing him to take January around occasionally. Karla understood. He had a bad moment when he hinted that he might have to go to Palm Beach over the Thanksgiving holidays. And Karla had said, “Yes, Dee invited me too.”

For a moment he had panicked. He could never manage that. In Karla’s presence he acted like one possessed. Dee and January would spot it immediately. “Would you come?” he had tried to make his voice sound as enthusiastic as usual.

“No. Thanksgiving is not my holiday. Even though I became a citizen, I never quite got used to it. It is such an American holiday—like the Fourth of July.”

But lately he had noticed a slight restlessness in her attitude. When she spoke of Europe, which she did quite frequently now, he felt a sick feeling of foreboding. Yet deep down he knew his only salvation would be if she suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. Because he now realized that this affair was never going to burn itself out . . . on his part. Sometimes he even had fantasies of her death. If she was irrevocably gone—only then could he settle down to the business of living his own life.

And even now as he held this beautiful girl in his arms on the crowded dance floor, he was thinking of Karla. It was wrong . . . sick. He’d always had complete control before. No woman had ever dominated him. Even in his wildest affairs he might have been carried away for a few weeks . . . that was part of the fun and excitement of a new romance, but eventually he always got the upper hand and the woman began to want him more than he wanted her, and he, in turn, cooled off. But it hadn’t happened with Karla. And he knew it never would.

But he had to become all-important to January. He had to make this girl want him, and need him, and
wait
for him. He wanted a little more time. He looked at her and smiled. She was really beautiful, even more beautiful than Kim. If he made his move tonight . . . would that be rushing her?
Rushing her!
It was November. He had known her almost two months. Kim had gone to bed with him the first night. And Karla the next afternoon. He had planned it for tonight. He had even bought the albums she liked.