Card Sharks

Still, on our return to the party, I had to admit she didn't look old and burned out. She looked pretty damned good for a forty-year-old, pardon my language.

Looking at her wide, innocent eyes, her winsome expression, my heart filled with rage. I wanted to bring her down. I wanted to see her humiliated.

Dr. Rudo had taken her hand and was saying how lovely it was to see her again; it'd been so long, etc. etc., as Brandon and I came forward to be introduced. But something about how they acted — the way she straightened almost to stiffness, something in his face — made me believe they loathed each other.

'How is your movie deal proceeding?' he asked. At her lifted eyebrows he added, 'That is why you're here, is it not? That's what the papers say.'

'Oh, I'd love to discuss it with you, Dr. Rudo,' she said in a light tone, 'but you know, how these ventures are. The backers get jittery if we discuss too many details before the deal is closed.'

'But of course. Pardon my prying.' He smiled. But his attitude was aggressive, and he didn't take his eyes off her. It seemed to make her a bit nervous. Which suited me just fine.

Dr. Rudo's example emboldened me. When Brand and I were introduced I refused to take her extended hand, merely gave it a cool, quizzical glance. As if to say, what should I do with that?

A look of hurt and bafflement came into her eyes, but she simply gave me that smile she is so famous for, equal parts innocence and sensual languor, and nodded to me. She kept her hand extended, transferring it to my husband, who bent over it and kissed it, lingeringly.

I wanted to scream. As I pulled Brand away he gave her a charming little grin and a shrug, and I knew he'd seek her out later. Then and there I decided to glue myself to Brand for the evening.

'What is your problem?' he asked sotto voce, summoning up his courtroom smile, a parody of the one he'd given Marilyn. I suppose you could say he was more concerned about appearances at the moment than I.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Lower your voice. You know precisely what I'm talking about.' Brand pried my hand loose from his arm and, folding my hand and arm under his in a deceptively tight grip, dragged me along toward the end of the room with the dance floor. He nodded a greeting at Councilman Hartmann, who stood nearby watching us.

'Let me go.'

'I mean it. I have important plans for tonight. This may he my big chance to make some important contacts and I won't have you interfering.'

'Exactly what sort of contact did you intend to make, darling?' I asked, showing as many teeth as he, though his fingers were digging hard enough into my wrist to leave bruises. 'And with whom?'

'Don't bait me.'

'I saw how you looked at her.'

'Someone had to show some courtesy.'

'That woman is in no need of your courtesy.'

He virtually dragged me out onto the dance floor, with that hateful, suave smile on his face, making pleasantries all around. The song was Louis Armstrong's 'Wonderful World.' He grasped me in a clutch with a hand around the back of my neck and an arm around my waist, and whispered in my ear, 'This is my big night and I wont have you interfering.'

'Stay away from her.'

'Don't push me or I'll make you regret it.'

His hand closed alarmingly tightly on the back of my neck; I started to become frightened. Councilman Hartmann still watched us over the heads of the crowd. He must have known something was going on, and was wondering whether he should intercede. A sudden impulse rose in me to struggle in Brand's grip, to hit at his face, to cry out for the councilman's help — for anyone's. Which would have been disastrous at a time like this. I knew how to handle Brand; why was I getting so panicked?

Besides, Councilman Hartmann had looked away by that time, so I was on my own. I took a deep breath and relaxed in Brand's grip. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I breathed a gentle breath in his ear.

'I can't help being jealous. You're such a powerful, attractive man that other women won't be able to resist your charms. I couldn't bear it if you got involved with another woman.'

He loosened his grip a bit and drew back to give me a suspicious look, but I had my most sincere face on. After a moment he said, 'All right, then, but no more public displays.'

'You have my word.'

He let me go, so suddenly I stumbled. 'All right. Go get yourself a drink and find Patricia. I have business.'

'I'll come with you.'

'No you won't.' The I can't trust you not to make a scene was implicit in his expression.

Hurt, I turned my back on him and went over to the bar. I'd intended to drop a few hints into Councilman Hartmann's ear about my husbands inexcusable behavior, but he had wandered away.

By the time I found him he had become embroiled in a heated political discussion with the mayor, Governor Rockefeller, and several other men. When it became clear that nobody was going to take particular notice of me, I went in search of Patricia and my circle, to pass the evening with martini in hand, exchanging gossip about those of our circle not present, along with other unfortunates whose names arose in idle conversation.

Brand spent most of the evening with Marilyn. I comforted myself that the husbands of most of the women in my circle also paid court to her. But Brand was clearly a favorite, and they went off together at least twice, before I got too drunk to notice.

Patricia began throwing me pitying looks, which reminded me in an unfortunate way of Dr. Isaacs's expression earlier. I'd be a target for nasty rumors as soon as my friends gathered without me. I wasn't the only predator in my social circle.

The rest of that evening fades into obscurity in my memory, but one other incident stays with me. New York politics and high society were always weird and paranoid, and one got used to not knowing what was going on. But this seemed different.

The party had thinned out so it must have been quite late. In the past couple of hours I had managed to sober up a bit. On my way out of the ladies' room I happened to hear Brand's voice, quite low but recognizable. It came from within a cranny around the corner, where the pay phones were.

I started to enter the cranny but paused at the corner when I heard Dr. Rudo's voice. He spoke in a soft and reasonable tone that nevertheless managed to sound as though he expected unquestioning obedience.

'It would be preferable for you to avoid her altogether.'

Brand sounded a bit chilly. 'Let's leave my personal life out of this, shall we?'

'Your involvement with her could complicate matters. It's easy to underestimate her, but I've known her a long time. She's seductive and she can be cunning.'

Brand scoffed. 'Oh, come now. There's not a ruthless bone in that lovely body.'

'I don't think you understand me. She is one of ours.'

Brand's voice was shocked. 'She's a Card Shark?'

'Mmmm. She holds a key position in Hollywood and is an important player — even if she is inept.'

'Then … if she's one of us, why the secrecy?'

Dr. Rudo's voice was sharp. 'Think about it.'

A pause, then a gasp. 'Of course. She's compromised.'

'Seriously so. We've kept her completely out of the picture. But it's my guess she's gotten wind that something's up. She'll learn eventually — she probably knows we're up to something right now — but it's important she doesn't find out What we're about too soon. Otherwise she might try to stop us.'

Somehow, call it a Woman's intuition, I knew that they were talking about Marilyn. And that Brand had fallen for her. The rest made no sense to me, but it all sounded so odd that I decided to take notes in my address book, in case I needed details for emotional blackmail later.

I wrote down 'Card Sharks.' I thought they were playing one of those silly conspiracy games one hears about, played by men old enough to know better, who don silly hats and pass secret codes and hand shakes back and forth.