“I could no more fall for her than I could fall for—for—”
“For me?” He laughed.
She smiled suddenly and laughed with him. “Oh,” she said with a wave of her hand, “You’re taken.”
“Mother, that’s a beautiful one-line definition of my dilemma. My analyst could use you.”
“Are you being analyzed?” she asked.
“Aren’t we all?”
“Answer me!”
“I did. Let’s go. I hate to keep people waiting.”
“Who’s waiting?”
“My friend, Mr. Fleming.”
She slipped off the barstool, pulling her jacket on. “I’d like to meet him.”
“If it lasts another couple of weeks, I guess it’d be safe.” He took her arm and steered her through the crowd. They stared at her but it didn’t disconcert her so much now that she had had a drink or two.
“Where’s your adoring roommate tonight?” Jack said as they went up the stairs.
“Having dinner downtown.”
“Why don’t you go over to The Cellar? Let Beebo tell you some fairy stories. She’s got a million of ’em.”
“I couldn’t take Beebo tonight.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll walk you to the subway.”
“No, don’t bother. I know you want to get home. Thanks a lot, Jack. I don’t know why you’re so good to me.”
“My interest is purely academic. Your innocence amazes me.”
“You make me feel like a hayseed,” she said.
He laughed. “Okay, Hayseed. I’ll call you in the morning on what’s-her-name.”
“Sarah.”
“Sarah. See you.” And he turned and walked off.
Laura walked toward the subway but she knew she wasn’t going home. She knew she would walk right past it and she did. She walked for four blocks, seething with a renewed fury at Merrill Landon. Her hot hand was cramped around the slip of paper with Beebo’s number on it, in the pocket of her jacket…
I’ll pay her back. I’ll just give her the money I owe her, have one drink, and go home. She looked at her watch—a little past nine. For a moment she stood at the head of the stairs looking down at the double doors that opened into The Cellar, feeling her heart pound nervously. She never seemed able to walk into this place confidently. There was always a moment of fear and reluctance. But the need to be with her own kind quickly overpowered it.
She walked in, heading for the bar, ignoring the curious stares that greeted her. She stood at the end of the bar and when the bartender came up he recognized her.
“Hi,” he said. “What’ll it be?”
“Whisky and water, please,” she said. She looked around the place, up and down the bar, around the tables, but she didn’t see Beebo. She drank half her drink, and then walked back to the ladies’ room, looking into the rear of The Cellar, but Beebo wasn’t there. In extreme irritation she walked back to the bar, wondering whether to crush her pride and ask the bartender where Beebo was, or let it go. She finished her drink and decided if she had come this far she might as well go the whole way.
“Where’s Beebo tonight?” she asked the bartender the next time he got near. “I owe her some money,” she explained compulsively. He smiled.
“Oh, she’s been and gone already,” he said. “She’s probably over at The Colophon. She likes it over there. No boys.” He grinned.
“Thanks,” said Laura, slipping off her seat at the bar and heading for the door. She was embarrassed enough without asking him where The Colophon was. She didn’t want to advertise her “innocence.”
Near the door a slim pretty girl, who had kept an eye on her at the bar, approached her. The girl wore her hair in a short soft curly cut. She was blonde and feminine. Laura let herself be approached simply by returning the girl’s gaze as she came near her. She stopped when the girl spoke.
“Excuse me,” the girl said. “We noticed you were all alone. My friends and me. Like to have a drink with us?” She nodded toward a table where three other girls were sitting watching them. One of them, sitting alone on one side of the table, stared coldly at Laura.
Laura was flattered. But the feelings in her were too personal, too rough, to dissipate with strangers. “Thanks,” she said. “I’d like to, but I’m looking for somebody. I’m in a hurry.”
“Who’re you looking for? Maybe we can help you out,” said the girl, stopping Laura as she started to move away.
Laura realized the girl was interested in her, and it made her turn back once more. “Oh,” she said with a little shrug, “you wouldn’t know her.”
“Somebody might. We’re over here a lot. What’s her name?”
Laura was dead certain they’d know Beebo, who came over here all the time. The last thing she wanted was to have everybody run up and tell Beebo that Laura had been looking for her. The bartender would no doubt tell her. That was bad enough.
“What’s her name?” the girl prompted, and then smiled. “Don’t want to tell?”
Laura blushed and backed away from her. “I just owe her some money. I thought she’d be down here tonight.”
“Who?” the girl goaded her, with a pretty smile.
“Beebo Brinker.” Laura didn’t mean to say it. Yet saying it was better than trying to hide it and getting laughed at. They could always ask the bartender who she was looking for after she left, and she would look even worse. They would take her stammering reluctance for infatuation. She said the name as casually as she could.
“Oh, Beebo!” The girl laughed. “She left half an hour ago. She’s over at The Colophon. She said this place was dead tonight. I guess if she’d known you were coming she would have waited—hm?” She smiled.
“I guess,” said Laura briefly. She stared at the girl. It occurred to her that she saw a slight resemblance to Beth in her face. Then she turned and walked out.
The slim girl walked back to her table. Her partner said peevishly, “Maybe that’ll teach you you’re not irresistible.”
“Oh,
