“You want me to come over?”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes. I was delayed.”
“Okay, but make it fast. I’ll call again at eight-thirty. And every ten minutes after that.”
Laura hung up without a further word and turned to look at Marcie. “I met him at work,” she said, her face flushing. “He’s been pestering me. I don’t want to see him.” She didn’t know what she was going to do.
“Oh,” said Marcie. Then why all the fuss? She looked curiously at Laura’s pink face. Laura turned away and began to walk up and down the room, feeling as if there were a bomb sealed in her breast, ticking, about to go off. She knew her nails were cutting her underarms, yet she hardly felt them. It was an expression of terrible tension in her. Suddenly she whipped the closet door open and pulled out her coat.
Marcie, watching her, said quickly, “Where’re you going?”
“I’ll be back early,” Laura said, heading for the door, propelled by the tight violence that was boiling inside her.
“Laura!” Marcie jumped up and followed her. “Damn it, Laur, please tell me, I’m worried about you.”
Laura turned abruptly at the door. “I’m just going out for a little while,” she said. “I won’t be late.” She tried to leave, but Marcie grabbed her arms.
“You’re not fit to go anywhere, Laura. I never saw you so upset,” Marcie said. “Except once. And you—you spent the night with Jack that time. It was my fault. Is this my fault? Am I driving you out again?”
“No, no, nothing’s your fault.” Laura covered her face with her hand for a minute and when Marcie’s arms went around her to comfort her, she wept. “Please don’t let me go,” she whispered. “I mean—God!—I mean, let me go. Let me go, Marcie.” She began to resist.
But the curiosity in Marcie had taken over. “You’re trembling all over. Come to bed, Laur. Come on, honey, you’re in no shape to go anywhere. Come tell me about it,” she coaxed, trying to guide Laura away from the door. But Laura knew what was in store for her if she obeyed. She uncovered her face to gaze for a moment at Marcie, so close to her, so tantalizing. And that terrible storm brewing inside her made her feel as if she might do any wild thing that her body demanded of her. She was afraid.
“Please,” Marcie said softly. “I’ll give you a rubdown, I’m a great masseuse. My father taught me how.” She smiled. “Please, Laur.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him very much?”
“Yes.” Marcie frowned at her.
“And he loves you?”
“Of course.”
“You’re lucky, Marcie.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, Laur. I’m not lucky. I’m just normal. Ordinary, I mean.”
Laura stared at her. The emotion in her simmered dangerously near the top. With a sudden swift movement, Laura kissed Marcie’s cheek lightly, leaving the wet of her tears on Marcie’s face, and then whispered, “So lucky…so lucky…” Then she turned and ran down the stairs to the elevator.
Marcie sat down on a living room chair and put her head in her hands and tried to think. Laura’s strange behavior made her tickle inside. She felt close to the storm that had barely brushed past her, and yet she remained untouched. There was only the wet on her cheek as a token, and she brushed it off, inexplicably embarrassed.
Laura made the taxi driver take her past the McAlton. She counted to the fourteenth floor, as nearly as she could figure it, and stared at the golden blocks of windows, and wondered which ones opened into 1402. And if Merrill Landon was in his room.
She walked in quickly when she reached The Cellar, with no hesitation, and made for the bar. It was a little past eight-thirty by her watch. She hoped anxiously that Beebo hadn’t called Marcie again. She saw her at the far end of the bar talking to two very pretty young girls. They looked like teenagers. Laura was dismayed at the flash of jealousy that went through her. She walked right up to Beebo, without being seen, until she stood next to her. She took a seat beside her, watching Beebo while she talked, until one of the teens nudged her and nodded curiously at Laura. Beebo turned and broke into a smile.
“Well, Bo-peep,” she said. “Didn’t hear you come in. How are you?”
“Am I interrupting something?” Laura looked away.
Beebo laughed. “Not a thing. This is Josie. And this is Bella. Laura.” She leaned back on her stool so they could all see each other.
The younger girls made effusive greetings, the better to exhibit luscious smiles, but Laura only said, “Hello,” to them briefly. Beebo laughed again, and leaned closer to her.
“Jealous, baby?” she said.
“I owe you one drink,” Laura snapped. “What do you want?”
“Whisky and water.”
Laura nodded at the bartender.
“Is that all you came for, Bo-peep?”
“Don’t talk like that, Beebo, you make me sick.” Laura still wouldn’t look at her.
“I didn’t last time.”
“Yes you did. I hope you’ve bought your friends there one of Dutton’s cartoons. It’s the quickest way to get rid of them I know.”
“Why didn’t it work with you?” Beebo laughed softly in Laura’s ear. “You came home with me that night, if you recall.”
Laura turned angrily away from her. “What happened was in spite of the God damn juvenile cartoon, not because of it. I nearly walked out when he gave it to me.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I should have.”
The bartender came up and Laura started to order. She wanted to buy Beebo the drink and have one quick one herself, and then get out. Go home. Forget she had come. But before she could give an order, Beebo said, “Come home with me, Laura.”
“No.”
“Come on.” Beebo spun her slowly around on the barstool with one arm. Laura looked reluctantly at her for the first time since she had been noticed. Beebo smiled down at her, her short black hair and wide brow making her face more boyish even than Laura remembered.
