5:45 to Suburbia (12 page)

S
HE WAS
waiting for him in the bar.

“Hi, papa-doodle,” she said. “Pull up a toadstool.”

“What’s the trouble?” he said, sitting down. To the bartender he said, “Double Scotch, neat.”

“No trouble. I’m celebrating, papa-doodle. Can’t a gal celebrate?”

“I’ve only got time for one, Marge. This is a hell of a frantic day!”

“All upset over Janie, huh, papa-doodle?”

“Not just that. That
Vile
dummy too. I just read it.”

“Juicy?”

“Very! … But what’s
your
trouble?”

“I don’t got no troubles, papa-doodle. I’m celebrating. Told you I was celebrating.”

“I’m not in the celebrating mood, I’m afraid.”

Charlie took a good swallow of the Scotch the bartender set before him.

“Who’d they smear, papa-doodle?”

“The lead article’s on a fellow I went to college with. Otto Avery.”

“You never told me you went to college with old: ‘This is the news and my views on the news’” she said, imitating Avery’s clipped baritone.

“The article says he’s queer.”

“Is her?”

“Hard to believe. There certainly isn’t anything feminine about him.”

“Don’t be naive, papa-doodle. Some of the best stallions I ever pulled out my hide-a-bed for were fruits. Didn’t look it, but were … Get me another rye, huh?”

“How many have you had?”

“I’m not a counter, papa-poodle. Why count? Will it make you rich?”

“A rye,” Charlie said. He swallowed the rest of his shot. “I might as well have another too. A single, neat, this time.”

“He’s cute, isn’t he, papa-doodle? The bartender?”

“Adorable.”

“When
Vile
does an exposé of Margie, I got the perfect title. Call it ‘The Bartended.’ Huh?”

“It’s all documented,” Charlie said, “and I suppose even Keene wouldn’t risk a possible lawsuit, but — ” He took a swig of the new drink.

“But what?”

“I wonder where Keene dug up the facts? Wonder who wrote it?”

“Ask him, papa-doodle.”

“Keene? The hell with it! The whole thing’s in lousy taste! I don’t know why Bruce can’t see that.”

“He’s bewitched, maybe. Maybe Bruce and he are queer. Huh?” She chortled.

Charlie frowned and rubbed his forehead. “I wish I could think back and remember things clearly. What Avery was actually like.”

“It’s hard to think back clearly. I can’t even remember what
we
were like. Were we ever us, papa-doodle?”

“In one part the writer said Avery bribed some boy in our frat house to have relations with him. It rings a bell and it doesn’t. Gosh, it’s funny how your memory slips away.”

“All our yesterdays, huh, papa-doodle?”

“I just remember Avery was a bastard. I’d gone to prep school with him for a year or so too. I don’t remember much about him then, except I never liked him. In college we dated the same girl. Avery got her pregnant, so the rumor went, but he wouldn’t marry her. Some other guy did.” Charlie snapped his fingers. “That was Mitzie Thompson — the girl I mentioned at lunch today, remember?”

“All I remember about lunch, papa-doodle,” she said, “is that you were afraid to can me.”

Charlie swallowed his drink and looked at her. “I wasn’t afraid to, Marge. I was reluctant to.”

“But I saved you from the fire, didn’t I, papa-doodle.”

“You don’t have the other job, eh? I didn’t think so.”

“It was a beautiful gesture though, wasn’t it?”

“It
was,
Marge, up until I walked in here.”

“I’m not going to spoil it. You see me crying in my beer or anything?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“Not
me,
papa-doodle. I’m a Spartan.”

“What do you think you’ll do?”

“Take an extended vacation, papa-doodle. Florida, California, who knows?”

“Then your finances are in good shape?”

“Everything’s shipshape, Captain.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Marge. It was a rotten break.”

“Thanks to Mr. Keene, tracer of lost persons.”

“With enough rope, Keene’s going to hang himself. And he’ll hang Cadence too. This
Vile
thing is going to drag us right down. Bruce’ll see soon enough.”

“Why don’t you go up and tell him like you used to, papa-doodle?”

“Why the hell should I? Keene’s his troubleshooter.”

“I can remember how good you used to be in the hay after you went up and told Bruce off. ‘Member?”

“Un-uh,” Charlie said.

“Was I good in the hay, Charlie?”

“Sure, Marge. You were swell in the hay.”

“You ever remember it, Charlie?”

“Sure I remember it.”

“I mean, do you ever think of it and wish for it back?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie said. He swallowed his Scotch. “What the hell, I’m going to have another!” He signaled to the bartender. “Well,
do
you?”

“Do I what?”

“Ever think of it and wish for it back?”

“What’s the point in discussing it, Marge?”

“I just want to know, is all, papa-doodle.”

“I don’t reminisce much any more.” She said, “You didn’t go to bat for me, did you, Charlie?”

“It was all decided. I got the memo this morning.”

“Lots of times things were decided that you undecided for Bruce, papa-doodle.”

“He wouldn’t have listened to me, Marge. Keene is the new fair-haired boy around Cadence.”

“You didn’t even try, did you?”

“No,” Charlie said. “I didn’t.”

“Did you agree with the decision? Was that it, papa-doodle?”

“No, Marge, I didn’t
agree
with the decision. I think it was a lousy decision, like all of Keene’s are.”

“You used to speak up in the old days. No matter what.”

“I’m getting old,” Charlie said. “Today’s my birthday.”

“Is it the sixth of March, no kidding?”

“It’s the sixth of March,” Charlie said. “I’m fifty.”

“Buy you a drink, papa-doodle?”

“I ought to go back.”

“C’mon and have another, hmm?”

“How many have you had? I can never tell whether you’ve had too many.”

“You never could, Charlie. There are a lot of things you never could tell about me … Hey, bartender!”

It was after that drink, and another, and going on four o’clock when Charlie glanced at his watch and thought: Jesus Christ, I’ve got to get back! and she said suddenly:

“Charlie, I’m a barren woman.”

“I have to go,” he said. “Really!”

“Do you know what it’s like to be wheeled into a room a woman, and a coupla hours later to be wheeled out a nothing?”

“You’re drunk,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about any more.”

“Oh, yes, I do, papa-doodle. I’m talking about my hysterectomy. My operation, papa-doodle. They pilfered my ovaries back last Christmas, d’you know that?”

“You said it was a check-up.”

“Well, it wasn’t. They wheeled me in a woman and they wheeled me out a nothin’, papa-doodle. I’m fini!”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Well, she’s only an old bag that stopped having the curse back in the year one, so what the hell. But you’re wrong, papa-doodle. Did you know that? I was a medical miracle; still flowing at fifty-nine!”

“Fifty-nine?”

“Don’t look it, do I, papa-doodle?”

“No,” he said. “Look, Marge, I — ”

“Now, you just sit still, papa-doodle. I hadda sit through a whole lunch and listen about Janie losing her virginity, and you can just as well sit over a drink and hear about Margie losin’ her ovaries. It’s a little more important than what Janie lost — got to lose that ‘ventually anyway. But, Charlie — ” Her voice caught for the first time. Charlie stared at her. “You’re a woman till they bury you if you got your God-damned ovaries,” she went on. “But once they’re gone, you’re dead. You’re on the ash-heap. Fini! … Charlie, listen, I’m coming apart, Charlie. All the sawdust is coming out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Marge? About all of this?”

“What could you have done, papa-doodle? Get me another pair?”

“I don’t know that I could have done much more than talk with you, but that would have helped. I would have wanted to be able to help you that way.”

“I couldn’t. I’m not that way, papa-doodle. I’m from the pull-yourself-up-by-your-own-boot-straps-school ‘Member?”

“I’m sorry, Marge.”

“I’m fini, Charlie. How did it happen so fast to me?”

“You’re not finished, Marge.
You
finished? I’d like to see the day. Right now you’re drunk. You can see only the dark side. But you’ll bounce, Marge. I know you will.”

“I’m always drunk.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t tell me what’s true. I lean on a liquid crutch. Can’t walk with it; can’t walk without it.”

“Get a grip on yourself, Marge … Look, why don’t I run back to the office and pick up my things, and then take you home?”

“Don’t walk out on me, Charlie.”

“I’m not going to. You wait for me. I have to call my wife and Bruce, and get my coat.”

“You know what the night nurse at the hospital said?”

“Tell me when I come back.”

“She said I had the body of a woman of thirty. She was bathing me and she said I had the body of a woman of thirty. I haven’t even got stretch marks, papa-doodle.”

“Will you wait right here?”

“I’m broke, papa-doodle.”

“Well, you don’t need any money. I’m signing the check.”

“No, I mean I’m
broke.
My finances, as you say, are
not
in good shape, ‘fact, after I pay Bonwit Teller what I owe them, I’ll have $200 to my name.”

“What?”

“And all my stocks are phffft — liquidated, papa-doodle.”

“I thought you saved.”

“I had to pay those ovary-robbers, papa-doodle.”

“Did it take
everything?”
“I didn’t have that much.”

“I can’t believe it. Where did it go? You made a hell of a lot, Marge!”

“Phffft!”

“Listen, Marge, let me — ”

“I’m really on the ash-heap, papa-doodle. I don’t know why I just don’t give up the ghost. Any normal woman would go out and slash her wrists.”

“I
have
to stop in at the office, Marge,” Charlie said. “Now, do you want to wait here? I’ll take you home.”

“No. Jest put me in a cab. I’m fini!”

“I’ll put you in a cab, then,” Charlie said. “And you go home and sack out. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will,” Charlie said. “Waiter!”

• • •

Charlie guided her slowly through the lobby of the hotel.

“I’m a barren woman, boys,” she called to two bellboys who were standing near the door.

“There’s Miss Weather,” one murmured loud enough for Charlie to hear.

Out front, Charlie pressed a half-dollar into the doorman’s hand.

“We need a cab in a hurry,” he said.

Marge leaned against him. “Did you hear how I entertained them all at Continental Electric?” she said. “‘Sss very very funny … I sang.”

“I didn’t hear,” Charlie said.

“I sang
Friggin In The Riggin,
papa-doodle. Wanta hear?”

“No,” Charlie said. “Not now.”

She sang it anyway.

Charlie said, “Shhh, Marge, please.”

“I don’t have any,” she said.

“We’ll get a cab in a minute,” he said.

She lurched against him heavily. Her head fell on his shoulder and she kept singing the song. People passing snickered at them. The doorman stood in the street blowing his whistle frantically.

She was too drunk to make it on her own.

When the cab came, Charlie got in too.

It was ten minutes to five.

A
T A
quarter to five, Wally Keene got off the elevator on the twenty-first floor and walked up to Sandra Scott’s desk, his lean face breaking into a grin when he saw her.

“Mr. Cadence will see you in a moment,” she said. “When did the prodigal return?” She didn’t answer him.

He stuck his hands in his flannel trousers and rocked on his heels, standing before her desk.

“We thought we were going to have to break in a new girl.”

“We?” she said.

“Bruce and I.”

She put a piece of paper into her typewriter, ignoring him.

“Come on, Miss Scott,” he said. “I’m not a
real
sibling, you know.”

“Sibling?” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Keene.”

“Well, in plain words, I’m not rivaling with you for Bruce’s favor. I’m not a threat, Miss Scott. He thinks a lot of you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t let these inter-family relations traumatize you, Miss Scott.”

She said, “I’m very busy.”

“I’d like to be your friend. Is that plain enough? You and Bruce and I are all working on the same team, aren’t we?”

“Mr. Keene,” she said, “I don’t know what you want, but I’m very busy.”

“Did Charlie Gibson send up anything on the dummy?”

“There’s the phone, Mr. Keene,” she said. “Mr. Gibson’s extension is Four-o-nine.”

“Thanks, Miss Scott. I’ll remember that. That’s more or less what I wanted to know. Whether or not I could break down the defense mechanism … I see I can’t.”

Sandra Scott began to type.

“That’s a very sick attitude, Miss Scott,” Keene said, “and the sick get sicker … Like Marge Mann.” She kept on typing.

“Sometimes it pays to cooperate, even if you don’t feel like it. I thought we might cooperate, but I guess you’re too mixed up, Miss Scott.”

The buzz of the intercom interrupted him.

She answered it; then she said, “Mr. Cadence will see you now, Mr. Keene.”

“Thanks, Miss Scott,” he said. “Thanks for everything. And lots of luck.”

• • •

“Sorry to call you up at the close of the day like this, Wally, but — ”

“Not at all, Bruce. What’s the trouble?”

“I want to hold the dummy.”

“Look, Bruce, the mock-up should go out to advertisers on the twelfth. That’s less than a week away. We’re playing it too damn close as it is.”

“I know, I know. Sit down.” He motioned to a chair and sat down in his own. He bit the end off a cigar and poked the tobacco with a stick. Wally leaned forward, flicking his lighter to a flame.

“Thanks … The way I feel, Wally, to be perfectly frank, is that Charlie should have a chance to say how he feels about the book.”

“Then he
hasn’t?”

“He’s been out all afternoon.”

“Out!”

“I know, I know … I don’t know where he is … But Marge Mann never returned from lunch.”

“Oooh. That’s it.”

“It could very well be. Bonnie said they had lunch together though, and then Charlie came back to the office. Shortly after he came back, he disappeared. Didn’t take his coat — just walked out. Didn’t say where he was going, and isn’t back yet.” Cadence glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s five to five.”

“Bruce, the dummy should be at the printers’ right now.
You
know that.”

“I phoned them. They can wait until six.”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it, that Charlie doesn’t care one way or the other? He’s never been particularly interested in it.”

“He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the idea of it.”

“All right, we went into all of that. And we agreed it was the only thing we could do under the circumstances to pull us out of the red.”

“But is it, Wally?”

“Did Charlie come up with a better idea?”

Cadence puffed on his cigar thoughtfully.

Wally said, “Just because he doesn’t like the idea, doesn’t mean he should ignore it. We decided on it, didn’t we? So it’s policy, isn’t it? Charlie knew it had to be at the printers’ today. He should have said something. He was required to.”

“Yes, he should have said something … I keep thinking he’ll come through … I keep thinking that maybe the reason for the delay — maybe even the reason for his being gone all afternoon, has something to do with this problem … Maybe Charlie’s at work on it.”

“What’s to be done on it, Bruce? All he has to do is okay it. Or criticize it. What else?”

“I know Charlie, I think.” Cadence got up from his desk and walked to the window. “I keep wondering if he isn’t perhaps on the track of something else … It’s not like Charlie to be silent, the way he has been … about Marge — and now about this. I think it might be the calm before the storm.”

“You mean you think he’ll come up with another idea?”

Cadence said, “Maybe, Wally … maybe.”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

“I don’t feel comfortable about the dummy, Wally.”

“Bruce, that’s obvious. But we’ve got to move
fast!
That dummy should go to the printers’ immediately.”

“We can afford a day’s wait, I feel.”

“I don’t think we can.”

“I’m sorry, Wally, but I think I’m going to insist on a hold until we hear from Charlie.”

“You’ve got to cut the umbilical cord some day, Bruce. It’s ridiculous to imagine that Charlie’s going to come through at the last minute with a miraculous answer to our problems. Look, Bruce.” Keene got up and walked over to the window by Cadence. “Charlie’s probably out on a wing-ding with Marge Mann. I told you not to depend on Charlie today. He’s in a tight situation. He’s probably loaded down with guilt. I told you all of that.”

“I’ve known Charlie a long time.”

“If he really had any strong objections to the dummy, he would have voiced them by now.”

“Maybe,” Cadence said, “maybe not. Charlie’s a funny guy.”

“Has he read it?”

“Bonnie said he read it after lunch.”

“Then it’s obvious he doesn’t care, Bruce. He knows it has to be at the printers’. He would have said something.”

“I don’t think he would have okayed it, Wally.”

“Then where are we?”

“Waiting for Charlie’s reaction,” Cadence answered. “And I just have a hunch it’ll surprise us.”

“That’s sheer fantasy, Bruce. I don’t mind telling you.”

“We’ll see,” Cadence said. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to hold it.”

He put his cigar in his ashtray on the desk and bent down to pick up his briefcase. He began stuffing it with papers from the desk.

Keene said, “I think you’ll be sorry.”

“Wait and see,” Cadence answered. “I think I know Charlie.”

Keene started for the door, then stopped. “I see Miss Scott came back.”

“Yes, shortly after you left.”

“I was just noticing her while I was waiting for you. She’s certainly a case of nerves, isn’t she?”

“Sandy?” Cadence looked surprised. “I didn’t think she looked any different. She was just in here.”

“Look closely,” Keene said. “I noticed it right away. A bundle of nerves, poor kid … Probably needs a rest.”

“Really?” Cadence said.

Keene was about to add more when the phone rang on Bruce’s desk.

He waited as Bruce took the call, and heard him say, “Are you sure, Bonnie? … I see … You’re
sure
… all right then, thank you.”

Bruce Cadence put the phone back in its cradle.

He said solemnly, “Well, that’s that, I guess.”

“What’s up?”

“Charlie just called Bonnie to say he wouldn’t be back this afternoon,” Cadence answered. “He told her to call me and tell me he okays the
Vile
dummy.”