Beebo Brinker Chronicles 4 - Journey To A Woman (15 page)

They gave her a room on the fourth floor. She took the least expensive one they had, the kind where you share the bathroom with two or three other rooms. Perhaps it was an unnecessary economy, but she had Merrill Landon's sardonic warnings about money ringing in her ears and she wasn't going to be caught spending hers foolishly.

She unpacked a few things and hung them in the closet, and all the while her heart was high and going a little faster than it should have. She was in New York. Laura was in New York. Things would work out, they had to.

And what if they did? What if Laura could be found, and fast? And what if she fell into Beth's arms as though the nine years between them didn't exist, their lives apart didn't exist? Then what?

Then, Beth thought, almost timidly, divorce. I'll have to divorce Charlie. I'll never get the children back. My children. My babies. My own flesh. But I'll have Laura again. Was it worth it? It had to be.

Quickly she went to the phone book, the Manhattan directory, and looked for Laura Landon. Maybe the one in Chicago was wrong. After following her shaking finger down several columns she got the answer she secretly expected; the answer the phone book at the Chicago airport had already given her: no listing. She sighed and lighted a cigarette. It was not going to be a cinch, this strange mission of hers. She checked the book again for Nina Spicer's name.

Nina was there. With relief and some trepidation she dialed the number. It was ten-thirty in the morning, but the voice that answered was obviously newly roused from sleep. It was a low pleasant feminine voice, almost sultry. Beth liked it. It made her curious to meet the owner, curious to see what she looked like.

"Nina Spicer, please,” she said.

"This is Nina."

"This is Beth Ayers, Nina. Do you remember me?"

"How could I forget? The girl with all the problems."

"I'm sorry I” woke you up."

"Sure.” Her breezy lack of courtesy threw Beth for a moment.

"Did you get my note?” she asked.

"I did."

"Could we meet for lunch?” Damn, I sound like a question box, Beth thought. But Nina was playing things her way. Beth had to go along.

"Let's make it dinner. I'm tied up at noon,” Nina said.

"Okay. You'll have to name the place. New York is all new to me."

"Where are you?"

"The Beaton."

"Good enough. They have a decent bar on the top floor. I'll pick you up in the lobby about four-thirty. We can go on from there."

"Fine.” Beth was both repelled and attracted by the girl on the phone. The voice was lovely, but the attitude was hardly warm and welcoming. Curious, amused, a little supercilious, somewhat intimidating.

Beth hung up. She wasn't afraid of Nina, just on her guard. And she was so eager to meet her, to ask her about Laura, that the day dragged unbearably. She was too excited to rest. She ended up writing letters, one to Merrill Landon, one to Cleve.

"Did you have much trouble with Vega?” she asked Cleve reluctantly. “Tell me everything's okay. It would mean so much. I'll send you a box number in a day or two. Don't know how long I'll be in New York."

When there was nothing left to write and no one to write to, she walked. She saw the United Nations buildings and she poked around the shops. A tailor across the street from the Beaton sewed a button on for her and told her about his international clientele.

She was in her room by four, in case Nina should come early, but Nina was late. It was a quarter to five when she called Beth's room, and Beth, almost beside herself with impatience, went down to the lobby to meet her. She looked for a light blue linen suit, which was Nina's description of herself, and found her standing by a square pillar near the desk.

Beth walked straight to her and took her hand, pleased to see that her directness threw Nina offstride slightly. Nina expected to have that effect herself, mainly by fixing people with a go-to-hell stare. But Beth was not interested in Nina for Nina's sake and it made her less susceptible to Nina's notions of who was running the show.

They went directly up to the bar, speaking softly, feeling their ways with one another. They ordered Martinis. “How long will you be in New York?” Nina asked. “That depends.” “On what?"

"A lot of things. You, maybe."

Nina smiled at her Martini glass. She was not a pretty girl, though her eyes were green and well shaped, and she wore her brown hair long in a soft bob. Her nose was too sharp and prominent and her mouth too small and irregular to be pretty, but she had a nice figure. Unusually nice, Beth had noticed on the way up in the elevator.

"What have I got to do with how long you stay in New York?” Nina asked, sizing her up silently. “You don't even know me.” She spoke suggestively, with the hint of a smile on her face, as if she had only to keep leading a little and Beth would soon take a pratfall.

"I'm looking for someone,” Beth said. “I thought you might be able to help me find her."

"Oh. Romance?"

"No,” Beth lied, speaking briefly and annoyed at Nina's tone of voice.

"You're not at all horsey, are you?” Nina said, changing the subject suddenly and grinning.

"Horsey?” Beth stared at her. “Should I be?"

"Frankly, yes. I got the impression from your letters."

"It's not the impression I meant to give.” Beth didn't like Nina's expression. It was too cocksure, too well acquainted with all the ins-and-outs of gay life in New York City that Beth yearned to know herself. She felt suddenly reluctant to bring Laura's name up. Maybe later in the evening, if Nina got more congenial.

"So you're leaving your husband, hm?” Nina said. It was part of her technique with people to startle them, embarrass them, leave them stammering.

"I didn't say that,” Beth protested.

"You don't need to. Your letters said enough. He isn't here in New York, is he?"

"No. But that doesn't mean I'm leaving him."

"From the things you wrote me, I'd say you could hardly wait to ditch him."

"I haven't written you for a while,” Beth said in a chilly voice. “Things change.” Beth was being played with, to see if she would snap or take it in stoic silence. She was aware of this, aware that no matter how she reacted Nina wouldn't care—just as long as there was some reaction. Nina didn't give a damn for anything else. It was seeing people squirm, seeing them enmeshed in their own poor little problems that amused her. Beth was a good case history. And she was new and different to Nina. She would help to pass the time. She might even show up, slightly distorted, in Nina's next novel.

Beth made up her mind to ignore it. Nothing mattered but finding Laura, and if Nina could help, Nina would have to be catered to.

They had another Martini and then Nina took her out to dinner. It was a little place down in the Village, but expensive; the tourist trade had discovered it. But the food was excellent. Beth ate gladly. The lack of rest and the Martinis made a bad combination, and she felt a little slap happy.

"I want to learn my way around down here,” Beth said. “I want to get to know the Village.” Just being in it gave her a tingle of hope, of excitement. The Village. The end of the rainbow. How she had wondered about this place! And Laura had lived here; Laura knew it, too. Perhaps better than Nina.

"Sure,” Nina said. “Sure you would. Just like the rest of the tourists."

"I have a special reason.” “What's her name?"

Beth finished the drink beside her, distinctly nettled. “She may not even be here,” she said tightly. “I lost track of her years ago. The last I heard she was in New York."

Nina put her head back and laughed and Beth knew, with tongue-tied resentment, that she was being laughed at again. “So you gave up your husband and kids to come on a wild goose chase after your long lost love,” Nina said. “How romantic! That's why you wanted to meet me, I suppose. So I could lead you to her."

She laughed again and Beth thought with disappointment that she could never like this peculiar girl. It was apparently not possible for Nina to be friendly. You made her acquaintance and then you either knuckled under to her or else you had to drop her. One way or the other she got a good show, and that was all she wanted out of life, besides a few affairs. She didn't need friends and she didn't especially want them. Lovers, yes. Friends, no. Lovers kept boredom out. Friends let it in. At least, that was the way Beth sized her up.

Somehow the mere idea of exposing Laura's name to the malicious laughter of this worldly girl who faced her over the dinner table disheartened Beth. She couldn't do it; not just then. She looked at the writer, feeling sure that Nina would tolerate her good humoredly as long as Beth was still “new,” still good for laughs. And Nina looked back at her, always with her mocking little smile, so different from Jean Purvis's endless good-hearted grin. Physically Nina and Beth pleased each other. Nina took in her visitor's long strong limbs, well shaped and smooth, and her intense violet eyes. She was ever so slightly, even fashionably, boyish. And Nina laughed softly to herself at the idea of filling Beth full of moonshine and bull and letting her find her way out of the mess.

After dinner Nina took Beth around to some Lesbian bars. It was the first time in her life that Beth had ever been in such places. They recalled scenes from Nina's novels to her and she asked ingenuous questions, unaware of the fact that her voice carried too far, far enough to make one or two other customers smile.

"Not much noise tonight,” Nina said, after shushing her. “Monday night,” she explained. “Always dead."

Beth was thinking, What if Laura's here somewhere? At least she's been here before. Did she meet people here? Fall in love?

They took in three places. The first was another tourist trap. There was a long dark bar in front and a dining room with sketchy floor shows in the back. No show on Monday nights. But the waitresses were interesting. Beth found herself staring at them in fascination, as they lounged against the walls waiting for the sparse crowd to fill out. She even wondered if they drank orange juice in the morning like everybody else. It shocked her to realize how far out of her depth she was, how far removed from her collegiate sophistication. She wondered how obvious it was to Nina, but a glance at her revealed only the supercilious little smile.

Nina watched her closely and her scrutiny made Beth nervous. She wants me to put my foot in my mouth, Beth thought, and it made her stammer a little. But it didn't stop her from asking questions.

Beth was surprised to see so many men sitting at the bar. “Who are they?” she asked. “Johns?” She remembered the word from one of Nina's novels and she asked her question in a firm clear voice that made Nina duck and laugh.

"Quiet, for God's sake, they'll think we're cops,” she said. “Or a couple of gaping hayseeds."

"Well, are they?” Beth said. “Do they hang around gay girls all the time?” But she lowered her voice.

"Um-hm,” Nina said, her eyes wrinkled at the corners.

In the next place there were only women, except for the man behind the bar, and he apparently enjoyed the confidence of the girls he served. There was only a handful of young women there when Beth and Nina arrived, and Beth looked them over quickly, always with Laura's lovely face in her mind. But Laura wasn't there.

Nina seemed to know everybody. She was getting more gregarious as she had more drinks. Not loud at all, just bold; bold in the way she looked at people, in the things she said.

"So you want to go back to your husband,” she needled Beth.

"I didn't say that, either."

"You don't say much, do you?” Nina laughed. “What'd you get married for in the first place if you're gay?” she said. “Think it would cure you?"

"I didn't know I was gay,” Beth said.

"You seemed to in your letters."

"They were easier to write that way."

Nina laughed at her and called one of the waitresses over. “This is Billie,” she said to Beth, and the girl sat down and talked with them. She was extremely pretty; very small and dainty-looking, but with cropped hair and a decidedly aggressive swing in her walk. She spoke softly, however, almost timidly, and left the bulk of the conversation to Beth and Nina.

"Beth is looking for her long lost love,” Nina said, pleased to see the consternation her announcement created in Beth. “What's her name again?” She glanced at Beth.

"Maybe she comes in here,” Billie said helpfully. “I know them all."

"I doubt it,” Beth said.

"Come on, her name,” Nina demanded.

"She's not here,” Beth said, feeling cornered and stubborn. She hated the phrase “long lost love,” so lightly, even sarcastically, spoken.

"So maybe she comes in other times,” said Billie, innocently unaware that Beth and Nina were sparring with each other.

"Bring us another drink, will you, Billie?” Nina said, still staring Beth down. As soon as the girl had left their table she leaned over and said confidentially to Beth, as if making it up to her a little, “Do you like her?"

"I don't know her,” Beth said warily.

"She likes you,” Nina said. “She's been cruising you like mad since we came in."

"Cruising me?"

"Looking you over, sizing you up."

Beth didn't believe her. Nina only wanted a rise out of her.

"She wants to be a boy,” Nina said. “She boards with a family on Bleecker Street. She thinks they think she's a boy. She always wears pants."

"She had on a skirt tonight."

"That's because she has to wear one in here. City ordinance. No women in bars in pants. But she won't wear the skirt to work. She carries it in a paper bag and changes in the John."

"She's crazy if she thinks she can pass for a boy,” Beth said seriously. “She can't be over five-feet-three. And she's so pretty. Her features are very feminine."

And again Nina laughed at her. And again Beth realized she was being made a fool of. Was any of it true? Was Billie so blind as to think she could transform herself into a boy with a pair of pants? Or was Nina showing her at least part of the truth, a sad, even pitiful, intensely interesting little corner of life, cut from the Village pattern?