“Right now that’s all you can smell.”
“That’s movie business.”
“Any business, kitten. How long do we have to stay?” Her laugh was gentle and low. “I thought anyone who spent time in Europe would be used to the sophistication.”
“They’re a little more subtle about it over there,” I told her.
She handed me a glass from the tray that was offered her by a pert little waitress. “What’s wrong, Dog?”
“Nothing.”
“Those girls are giving you that look again.”
“Screw them.”
“You aren’t very sociable tonight.” She touched my arm and smiled at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come along.”
“Nobody makes me do anything.” I laughed and gave her hair a little tug. “I’ll ease off. Too many things have been happening.”
Sharon nodded toward the door. “There’s Lee. He’s the one who talked the English actress into signing with S.C.”
“Cable have him on the payroll too?”
“For the duration of the picture. Good choice. I wonder why he doesn’t seem all that happy about it.”
“Broads on his mind maybe. He’s a horny character. Right now he could have a feast.”
“Couldn’t everybody?”
“I don’t enjoy eating at the trough, honey,” I said. “It’s better at your own dinner table.”
“Trying to tell me something?”
“Nope. You’re a spoken-for woman.” I dropped my empty glass on a passing tray and waved off a refill. “When do I get to meet your flance?”
Almost absently, she said, “He’ll show up when he’s ready.”
“Independent slob.”
“Yes,” she told me. “Quite.”
“Somebody ought to warn him.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Let the prick watch out for himself.”
“There you go again with that dirty language.”
When I looked at her there was a far-off smile on her face that reminded me of something else and the calendar started turning over backward, dropping the years away, one by one. The seed was growing now and a leaf was sprouting from the stalk. It had a vague number on it but too distant to read.
Somebody came and took Sharon to the other side of the room while I was thinking about it and a pair of blondes filled her place with small talk I answered abstractedly until Mona Merriman came up with her usual brassy style and told them to bug off because I was all hers, and with imperial pomp introduced me to a few friends before getting me off alone.
I said, “What?”
“You weren’t listening at all.”
“Sorry, doll.”
“I said, what has Lagen got on you?”
“Beats me.”
She turned me around so nobody could see her face and looked at me seriously. “They take me for a gossipy old woman, Dog, but I was a damn good reporter long before I hit the money line. He’s got something and he wants you crawling.”
“Forget it, Mona.”
“Son ... I said I was a reporter. My staff passes me interesting tidbits of information.”
She was a strange broad. Suddenly there was no flabbiness in her face at all. It was all hard, questioning planes with a fire dancing out of her eyes.
“He thinks I was a big hood in Europe,” I said.
“Were you?”
“The biggest, kid.”
“And now?”
“Out.”
“Damn. For real?”
I nodded slowly.
“He can prove it?”
“No chance.”
“Baby, I could make music with you. Real typewriter music.”
“Don’t. There’s other music that’s louder.”
“And much more staccato, I suppose?”
“If you want to put it that way.”
“The crashing of cymbals?”
“The big brass drum, Mona.”
“Who’s the drummer?”
“Sometimes a guy can be lucky all the time,” I said. “Let’s go join the party.”
“You won’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Cross and Sheila McMillan are here. He seems quite perturbed about the entire arrangement.”
“Only he can’t do anything about it, can he?”
“Not since your cousins okayed the deal.” Mona’s fingers squeezed my arm. “You really put the heat on, didn’t you?”
“A public service.”
“From what I hear, it was plain heat.”
“They needed it.”
“Doggie, I’d like to take you to bed with me.”
“I’m not exactly a Teddy bear, Mona.”
“You’re better than a two-battery vibrator.”
“You’re wild, baby. What do you do for fun?” I let out a laugh and put my arm around her shoulder.
“Mainly play with the children who would give their dingdong for a chance like you have, knowing how I’d give them paragraphs for their scrapbooks.”
“Write me out then.”
“You never even were penciled in, Doggie. Your type is alive in the wrong era.”
“Perceptive cunt, aren’t you?”
“That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said all week. And true. Very true. Maybe that’s why I like you. Now be a smart boy and get you and your little blonde out of here. The glacier has been looking this way and I can read all the signs.”
“Who?”
“Sheila McMillan. I’m an older pussy than you are a dog and I can read all the signs too.”
