Ricky thought of his daughter, and his heart twisted.
Then Sears James joined Ricky in his corner. 'Privacy at last,' he said, putting his drink on a table and leaning against the bookshelves.
'I wouldn't count on it.'
'An appalling young man tried to sell me insurance. He lives across the street.'
'I know him.'
Since they were in total agreement on the subject of Freddy Robinson, there was nothing more to say. Eventually Sears broke the silence. 'Lewis might need help getting home. He's been a bit bibulous.'
'Well, after all, it's not one of our meetings.'
'Hmm. I suppose he might pick up a girl who could drive him home.'
Ricky glanced at him to see if he meant this personally, but Sears was merely surveying the party blandly, obviously bored. 'Did you talk to the guest of honor?'
'I haven't even seen her.'
'She's highly visible. I think she's over-' He lifted his drink in the direction he had seen her, but the actress was no longer there. Edward was talking to John, presumably about her, but Ann-Veronica Moore was no longer in the room. 'Keep an eye on Edward. He'll find her.'
'Isn't that Walter Barnes's son standing by the bar?'
Though it was now long past ten, Peter Barnes and a young girl were indeed by the bar, and the waiter who had relieved Milly of her duties was mixing drinks for them. Doctor Jaffrey's housekeeper had clearly not had the heart to send away the teenagers downstairs, and the bolder ones had invaded the upstairs party. The piano music which had replaced Aretha Franklin abruptly ceased, and Ricky saw Jim Hardie juggling several record albums, trying to decide which was least out of date. 'Uh, oh,' he said to Sears, 'we have a new disc jockey.'
'That's it,' Sears said. 'I'm tired and I'm going home. Noisy music makes me want to bite someone.'
He moved massively away. Milly Sheehan stopped his progress and spoke agitatedly to him. Ricky guessed that she was in a tizzy over the sodden appearance of the teenagers. Sears shrugged-it was not his problem.
Ricky wanted to go home then, but Stella had begun to dance with Ned Rowles, and soon several of the wives had enticed their husbands to that part of the room nearest the record player. The teenagers danced energetically, sometimes almost elegantly; the adults looked foolishly imitative beside them. Ricky groaned; it was going to be a long night. All had begun to speak louder, the barman mixed a half dozen drinks at a time, moving an upended bottle over a row of ice-filled glasses. Sears reached the door and disappeared.
Christina Barnes, a tall blonde with an avid face, appeared by Ricky. 'Since my son has managed to take over this party, how about dancing with me, Ricky?'
Ricky smiled. 'I'm afraid I can't be a gentleman, Christina. I haven't danced in forty years.'
'You must do something pretty well to hang on to Stella all these years.'
She'd had about three drinks too many. 'Yes,' he said. 'You know what it was? I never lost my sense of humor.'
'Ricky, you're wonderful. I'd love to give you a backrub one of these days and see if I could find out what you're made of.'
'Old pencil stubs and out-of-date law books.'
Clumsily she kissed him, hitting the edge of his jaw. 'Did Sonny Venuti see you a couple of months ago? I want to talk to you about it.'
'Then come to my office,' he said, knowing she would not.
'Excuse me, Ricky, Christina,' said Edward Wanderley, who had come up on Ricky's other side.
'I'll leave you men to your private business.' Christina went off in search of a dancing partner.
'Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?' Edward's broad face was boyish, anxious.
'Miss Moore? Not for a little while. Have you lost her?'
'She's probably in the bathroom.'
'For twenty-five minutes?' Edward rubbed his forehead.
'Don't worry about her, Edward.'
'I'm not worried, I just want to find her.' He stood on tiptoe and began to look over the heads of the dancers, still grinding his fist into his forehead. 'You don't suppose she went off with one of those awful kids?'
'Couldn't say.' Edward slapped his shoulder and went rapidly out into the room.
Christina Barnes and Ned Rowles appeared in the vacuum Edward left at the edge of the carpet, and Ricky went around them to look for Stella. After a moment he saw her with Jim Hardie, obviously declining an invitation to learn the Bump. She looked over at him with some relief, and separated from the boy.
The music was so loud they had to speak directly into one another's ears. 'That's the most forward boy I've ever met.'
'What did he say?'
'He said I looked like Anne Bancroft.'
The music abruptly stopped, and Ricky's reply carried over the entire party. 'No one under thirty should be allowed to enter a movie theater.'
Everyone but Edward Wanderley, who was quizzing a hostile Peter Barnes, turned to look at Ricky and Stella. Then the ever-hopeful Freddy Robinson took the hand of Jim Hardie's girlfriend, another record fell onto the turntable, and people went back to the business of being at a party. Edward had been speaking softly, insistently, but Peter Barnes's aggrieved voice floated out a moment before the music began: 'Jesus, man, maybe she went upstairs.'
'Can we go?' he asked Stella. 'Sears left a while ago.'
'Oh, let's stay a while. We haven't done anything like this in ages. I'm having fun, Ricky.' When she saw his crestfallen face, she said, 'Dance with me, Ricky. Just this once.'
'I don't dance,' he said, making himself heard over the din of the music. 'Enjoy yourself. But let's go in about half an hour, all right?'
She winked at him, turned away, and was immediately captured by gangsterish Lou Price, to whom this time she succumbed.
Edward, seeing nothing, rushed by.
Ricky walked around the edges of the party for a time, refusing drinks from the barman. He spoke to Milly Sheehan, who was sitting exhausted on the couch. 'I didn't know it would turn out like this,' Milly said. 'It'll take hours to clean up.'
'Make John help you.'
'He
Ricky wandered on, at last arriving at the top of the stairs. Silence from upstairs and down. Was Edward's actress up there with one of the boys? He smiled, and went downstairs for the quiet.
The doctor's offices were deserted. Lights burned, cigarettes had been stamped out on the floor, half-filled cups stood on every surface. The rooms smelled of sweat, beer, smoke. The little portable record player in the front room spun on, the needle clicking in the empty grooves. Ricky lifted the tone arm, put it on its support and turned the machine off. Milly would have a lot of work down here the next morning. He looked at his watch. Twelve-thirty. Through the ceiling came the thumping of a bass, a tinny echo of music.
Ricky sat in one of the stiff waiting-room chairs, lit a cigarette, sighed and relaxed. He wondered if he might help Milly by beginning to straighten up these downstairs rooms, then realized that he'd need a broom. He was too tired to go scouting for a broom.
A few minutes later footsteps woke him out of a light doze. He straightened up in his chair, listening to someone opening a door at the bottom of the stairs. 'Hello?' he called out, not wanting to embarrass an illicit couple.
'Who's that? Ricky?' John Jaffrey came into the front waiting room. 'What are you doing here? Have you seen Edward?'
'I came down for the quiet. Edward was rushing around trying to find Miss Moore. Maybe he went upstairs.'
'I'm worried about him,' Jaffrey said. 'He looked so-so taut. Ann-Veronica's dancing with Ned Rowles.
