“Oh, Jack!” She was suddenly full of sympathy, but he cut her off again.
“What the hell,” he said cynically. “I expected it. I predicted it. And I know why.”
“Why?”
“Mother, you have a short memory.” He smiled wryly. “My little friend likes nice things. Nice things cost money. And besides,” he looked at his shoes, scraping one toe along a crack in the pavement, “I can’t handle him. I should shove his teeth down his throat. I should make him behave. And I can’t. I feel more like falling on my knees and worshipping him. He has no respect for me.” He spoke so softly that Laura had to strain to hear him.
She put her hands on his arms. “Jack, he’s not worth your time,” she said. “Anybody who would take advantage—”
“No, no, no, it’s normal. In this abnormal world we live in, you and I. If I were young and beautiful, he’d settle for that. But I’m not. I’m middle-aged and ugly. And a sap. So it takes something else…money. I wish had the knack of being a millionaire.”
“Damn it, Jack, you need somebody who can appreciate you.” He laughed bitterly, but she went on. “You make me hate Terry already without ever having seen him.”
“No, Laura,” he said seriously. “Don’t hate him. He’s very young. He’ll learn. It’s my fault. I can’t give him what he needs.”
“Dollar bills?”
Jack sighed. “That’s my last chance. I know it takes something else, but I haven’t got it. And now I haven’t got the dollar bills, either.”
“If I were a boy I’d fall madly in love with you,” Laura said.
This was such a startling remark that Jack had to drop his cynicism and take it in the spirit in which it was given. “Thanks, Mother,” he said softly. He looked at her, his ugly intelligent face prey to a number of strong emotions that he made no attempt to hide. It was a measure of his regard for Laura that he could let her see him stripped of wit and laughter like this. “How much do you have in the bank, Laura?”
Laura stared a little at him. But then she said quickly, “All I have is yours, Jack. It’s not much, but if it’ll help…
He smiled a little and then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re a doll,” he said. “We both know this is a losing investment. But it’ll give me a few more days with him. After that…” He shrugged. “Well, I always seem to live through these things. I don’t know why.”
They stood uncertainly on the corner for a minute and suddenly he asked, “Where are you going now?”
“Home.”
“To Marcie?”
“Yes. I hope Burr hasn’t tried to bother her.”
“He’s pretty sick about the whole thing. I think he’ll drink it off for a day or two. You should, too. The whole thing looks screwy to me.” He looked at her. “Come have a nightcap with me.”
“Where?”
“The Cellar. Where else?”
“I’m afraid I’ll run into Beebo.”
He shrugged. “I’ve gotten to know her better.” He gazed away from her thoughtfully.
“You have?”
“She calls me all the time. ‘Where does Laura work, what does Laura like, tell me all about her.’”
“She asked you that?” Laura was slightly incredulous, but once again, she liked it. She was sorry she liked it, but she did.
“Yeah. I’m beginning to think I like her.”
“You liked her before.”
“I know.” He laughed. “I’m not making sense. I guess I mean I feel sympathetic toward her. We’re both unlucky in love. At the moment.” He looked hard at her then and said, “Please come with me, Laura. I don’t want to go home.”
“Why not?”
Again he laughed, not so pleasantly this time. “I’m afraid of what I’ll find.”
“Like what?”
“Like somebody else in my bed with Terry.”
After a moment of shocked silence, Laura put her arm in his. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere and flatter the hell out of each other.”
He chuckled at her. “Mother, damn it, sometimes I suspect you of having a sense of humor.”
They went down to The Cellar, in spite of Laura’s misgivings. Jack seemed so unhappy that she wanted to indulge him. It was crowded as always on Friday nights, but Beebo wasn’t in sight.
“She’ll be in,” Jack observed. “She’s late on Fridays.”
They stood at the bar until a couple of stools were vacated and then sat down.
“What does she do?” Laura asked rather shyly.
“Who? Beebo?”
“She must get money somewhere. She has to pay the rent like everybody else.”
“She runs an elevator. In the Grubb Building. They think she’s a boy.”
“My God—an elevator.” It seemed wrong, even ludicrous. Beebo had too much between her ears to fritter her youth away running an elevator. “What does she do that for?”
“She doesn’t have to wear a skirt.”
Laura was stunned. It was pathetic, even shameful. For the first time she saw Beebo not as an overwhelming, handsome, self-assured individual, but as a very human being with a little more pride and fear and weakness than she ever permitted to show.
Laura didn’t know how long they had been there when Beebo walked in. She only knew she had had plenty to drink and it was time to go home. Beebo walked up to her, and Laura saw her face first in the mirror. She turned around with a start and stared at her. Beebo was wearing a dress.
A dress. And high heeled shoes. She was over six feet in the high heels. Strangely enough she wasn’t awkward in them, either. She wasn’t comfortable, but she could walk a straight line and keep her balance.
“Hello, Bo-peep,” she said quietly in Laura’s ear.
Laura felt a grateful response flow down to her toes from the ear. “Hello,” she said to the mirror image and then turned to face her. “Hello, Betty Jean.” She looked at her skirt.
Beebo gave her a wry smile. “You remembered?” she said. “Do you remember the good things, too?”
“Yes,” said Laura, smiling back. And surprised herself. For a moment she felt curiously receptive. She had no idea why.
Beebo gazed at
