Rich Man, Poor Man (51 page)

Both Rudolph and Johnny looked somehow high, as though they had already done some drinking. She could see by the gilt paper sticking out the brown paper bags that the bottles they were carrying contained champagne. ‘Hi, boys,’ she said. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’

We didn’t know we were coming,’ Rudolph said. This is an impromptu celebration.’ He kissed her cheek. He had not been drinking.

‘Hi, Billy,’ he said to the little boy.

‘Hi,’ Billy said perfunctorily. The relationship between uncle and nephew was tenuous. Billy called his uncle Rudy. From time to time Gretchen tried to get the boy to be more polite and say Uncle Rudolph, but Willie backed up his son, saying, ‘Old forms, old forms. Don’t bring up the kid to be a hypocrite.’

‘Come on upstairs,’ Gretchen said, ‘and we’ll open these bottles.’

The livingroom was a mess. She worked there now, having surrendered the upstairs room completely to Billy, and there were bits and pieces of two articles she had promised for the first of the month. Books, notes, and scraps of paper were scattered all over the desk and tables. Not even the sofa was immune. She was not a methodical worker, and her occasional attempts at order soon foundered into even greater chaos than before. She had taken to chain-smoking when she worked and ash trays full of stubs were everywhere. Willie, who was far from neat himself, complained from time to time. This isn’t a home,’ he said, ‘it’s the goddamn city room of a small-time newspaper.’

She noticed Rudolph’s quick glance of disapproval around the room. Was he judging her now against the fastidious girl she had been at nineteen? She had an unreasonable flash of anger against her impeccable, well-pressed brother. I’m running a family, I’m earning a living, don’t forget any of that, brother.

‘Billy,’ she said, as she hung up her coat and scarf, with elaborate precision, to make up for the state of the room, ‘go upstairs and do your homework.’

‘Aah …’ Billy said, more for form’s sake than out of any desire to remain below with the grownups.

‘Go ahead, Billy.’

He went upstairs happily, pretending to be unhappy.

Gretchen got out three glasses. ‘What’s the occasion?’ She asked Rudolph, who was working on opening the bottle of champagne.

‘We did it,’ Rudolph said. Today we had the final signing. We can drink champagne morning, noon, and night for the rest of our lives.’ He got the cork out and let the foam splash over his hand as he poured.

“That’s wonderful,’ Gretchen said mechanically. It was difficult for her to understand Rudolph’s single-minded immersion in business.

They touched glasses.

To Dee Cee Enterprises and the Chairman of the Board,’ Johnny said. The Newest Tycoon of them all.’

Both men laughed, nerves still taut. They gave Gretchen the curious impression of being survivors of an accident, almost hysterically congratulating themselves on their escape. What goes on in those offices downtown, Gretchen wondered.

Rudolph couldn’t sit still. He prowled around the room, glass in hand, opening books, glancing at the confusion of her desk, ruffling the pages of a newspaper. He looked trained down and nervy, with very bright eyes and hollows showing in his cheeks.

By contrast, Johnny looked chubby, soft, smooth, unedged, and now that he had a glass in his hand, composed, almost sleepy. He was more familiar with money and its uses than Rudolph and was prepared for sudden strokes of fortune and misfortune.

Rudolph turned on the radio and the middle of the first movement of the Emperor Concerto blared out. Rudolph grinned. ‘They’re playing Our Song,’ he said to Johnny. ‘Music to million by.’

‘Cut it out,’ Gretchen said. ‘You fellows are making me feel like a pauper.’

‘If Willie has any sense,’ Johnny said, .‘hell beg, borrow, or steal to scrape up some dough and come in on the ground floor of Dee Cee Enterprises. I mean it. There’s no limit to how high this stuff can go.’

‘Willie,’ Gretchen said, *is too proud to beg, too well known to borrow, and too cowardly to steal.’

‘You’re talking about my friend,’ Johnny said, pretending to be shocked.

‘He was once a friend of mine, too,’ Gretchen said.

‘Have some more champagne,’ Johnny said, and poured.

Rudolph picked up a sheet of paper from her desk.’ “The Age of Midgets”,’ he read. ‘What sort of title is that?’

It started out to be an article about the new television programmes this season,’ Gretchen said, ‘and somehow I branched out. Last year’s plays, this year’s plays, a bunch of . novels, Eisenhower’s cabinet, architecture, public morality, education … I’m aghast at how Billy’s being educated and maybe that really started me off.’

Rudolph read the first paragraph. ‘You’re pretty rough,’ he said.

‘I’m paid to be a common scold,’ Gretchen said. That’s my racket.’

‘Do you really feel as black as you sound?’ Rudolph asked.

‘Yes,’ she said. She held out her glass towards Johnny.

The telephone rang. ‘Probably Willie saying he can’t come home for dinner,’ Gretchen said. She got up’ and went to the telephone on the desk. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice aggrieved in advance. She listened, puzzled. ‘One moment, please,’ she said, and handed the phone to Rudolph. ‘It’s for you,’ she said.

‘Me?’ Rudolph shrugged. ‘Nobody knows I’m here.’

‘The man said Mr Jordache.’

‘Yes?’ Rudolph said into the phone.

‘Jordache?’ The voice was husky, secretive.

‘Yes.’

‘This is Al. I put down five hundred for you tonight. A good price. Seven to five.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Rudolph said, but the phone went dead. Rudolph stared at the instrument in his hand. ‘That was the queerest thing. It was a man called Al. He said he put down five hundred for me tonight at seven to five. Gretchen, do you gamble secretly?’

‘I don’t know any Al,’ she said, ‘and I don’t have five hundred dollars and besides, he asked for Mr Jordache, not Miss Jordache.’ She wrote under her maiden name and was listed as Jordache in the Manhattan directory.

That’s the damnedest thing,’ Rudolph said. ‘Did I tell anyone I’d be at this number?’ he asked Johnny.

‘Not to my knowledge,’ Johnny said.

‘He must have gotten the numbers mixed up,’ Gretchen said.

That doesn’t sound reasonable,’ Rudolph said. ‘How many Jordaches can there be in New York? Did you ever come across any others?’

Gretchen shook her head.

‘Where’s the Manhattan book?’

Gretchen pointed and Rudolph picked it up and opened it to the Js. T. Jordache,’ he read, ‘West Ninety-third Street.’ He closed the book slowly and put it down. T. Jordache,’ he said to Gretchen. ‘Do you think it’s possible?’

‘I hope not,’ Gretchen said.

‘What’s all this about?’ Johnny asked.

‘We have a brother named Thomas,’ Rudolph said.

‘The baby of the family,’ Gretchen said. ‘Some baby.’

‘We haven’t seen him or heard of him in ten years,’ Rudolph said.

The Jordaches are an extraordinarily close-knit family,’ Gretchen said. After the work of the day, the champagne was beginning to take effect, and she rolled back on the couch. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten any lunch.

‘What does he do?’ Johnny said. ‘Your brother?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ Rudolph said.

‘If he’s living up to his early promise,’ Gretchen said, lie is dodging the police.’

‘I’m going to find out.’ Rudolph opened the book again and looked up the number of T. Jordache on West Ninety-third Street. Dialled. The phone was answered by a woman, young from the sound of her voice.

‘Good evening, madam,’ Rudolph said impersonal, institutional. ‘May I speak to Mr Thomas Jordache, please?’

‘No, you can’t,’ the woman said. She had a high, thin soprano voice. ‘Who’s this?’ Now she sounded suspicious.

‘A friend of his,’ Rudolph said. ‘Is Mr Jordache there?’

‘He’s sleeping,’ the woman said angrily. ‘He’s got to fight tonight. He hasn’t got time to talk to anybody.’

There was the sound of the receiver slamming down.

Rudolph had been holding the receiver away from his ear and the woman had talked loudly, so both Gretchen and Johnny had heard every word of the conversation.

‘Fighting tonight on the old camp grounds,’ Gretchen said. ‘Sounds like our Tommy.’

Rudolph picked up the copy of the New York Times that was lying on a chair beside the desk and turned to the sports section. ‘Here it is,’ he said. ‘Main bout. Tommy Jordache versus Virgil Walters, middleweights, ten rounds. At the Sunnyside Gardens.’

‘It sounds bucolic,’ Gretchen said.

I’m going,’ Rudolph said.

‘Why?’ Gretchen asked.

‘He’s my brother, after all.’

‘I’ve gotten along for ten years without him,’ Gretchen said. ‘I’m going to try for twenty.’

‘Johnny?’ Rudolph turned to Heath.

‘Sorry,’ Johnny said. Tm invited to a dinner. Tell me how it works out’

The telephone rang again, Rudolph picked it up eagerly, but it was only Willie. ‘Hi, Rudi,’ Willie said. There were barroom noises behind him. ‘No, I don’t have to speak to her,’ Willie said. ‘Just tell her I’m sorry, but I’ve got a business

dinner tonight and I can’t make it home until late. Tell her not to wait up.’

Gretchen smiled, lying on the couch, ‘Don’t tell me what he said.’

‘He’s not coming home to dinner.’

‘And I’m not to wait up.’

‘Something along those lines.’

‘Johnny,’ Gretchen said, ‘don’t you think it’s time to open the second bottle?’

By the time they had finished the second bottle, Gretchen had called for a baby-sitter and they had found out where Sunnyside Gardens was, She went in and took a shower, did her hair, and put on a dark wool dress, wondered if it was comme il faut for prizefights. She had grown thinner and the dress was a little loose on her, but she caught the quick glances of approval of the two men at her appearance and was gratified by it. I must not let myself fall into slobhood, she thought. Ever.

When, the baby-sitter came, Gretchen gave her instructions and left the appartment with Rudolph and Johnny. They went to a nearby house. Johnny had, a drink with them at the bar and was saying, Thanks for the drink,’ preparing to leave, as Rudolph said, ‘I only have five dollars.’ He laughed. ‘Johnny, be my banker for tonight, will you?’

Johnny took out his wallet and put down five ten dollar bills. ‘Enough?’ he said.

‘Thanks.’ Rudolph put the bills carelessly in his pocket. He laughed again.

‘What’s so funny?’ Gretchen asked

‘I never thought I’d live to see the day,’ Rudolph said “when I didn’t know exactly how much money I had in my pocket.’

‘You have taken on the wholesome and mind-freeing habits of die rich,’ Johnny said gravely. ‘Congratulations. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office, Rudy. And I hope you brother wins.’

‘I hope he gets his head knocked off,’ Gretchen said.

A preliminary bout was under way as an usher led them to their seats three rows from ringside. Gretchen noted that there were few women present and mat none of them was wearing a black-wool dress. She had never been to a prizefight before and she tuned out the television set whenever one was being shown. The idea of men beating each other senselessly for pay

seemed brutish to her and the faces of the men around her were just the sort of faces that one would expect at such an entertainment. She was sure she had never seen so many ugly people collected in one place.

The men in the ring did not appear to be doing much harm to each other and she watched with passive disgust as they clinched, wrestled, and ducked away from blows. The crowd, in its fog of tobacco smoke, was apathetic and only once in a while, when there was the thud of a heavy punch, a sort of sharp, grunting, animal noise filled the arena.

Rudolph, she knew, went to prizefights from time to time and she had heard him discussing particular boxers like Ray Robinson enthusiastically with Willie. She looked surreptitiously over at her brother. He seemed interested by the spectacle in the ring. Now that she was actually seeing a fight, with the smell of sweat in her nostrils and the red blotches on pale skin where blows had landed, Rudolph’s whole character, the subtle, deprecating air of educated superiority, the well-mannered lack of aggressiveness, seemed suddenly suspect to her. He was linked with the brutes in the ring, with the brutes in the rows around her.

In me next fight, one man was cut over the eye and the wound spurted blood all over him and his opponent. The roar of the crowd when they saw the blood sickened her and she wondered if she could sit there and wait for a brother to climb through the ropes to face similar butchery.

By the time the main bout came on, she was pale and sick and it was through a haze of tears and smoke that she saw a large man in a red bathrobe climb agilely through the ropes and recognised Thomas.

When Thomas’s handlers took off his robe and threw it over his shoulders to put the gloves on over the bandaged hands, the first tiling Rudolph noticed, with a touch of jealousy, was that Thomas had almost no hair on his body. Rudolph was getting quite hairy, with thick, tight black curls on his chest and sprouting on his shoulders. His legs, too, were covered with dark hair, and it did not fit the image he had of himself. When he went swimming in the summer, his hairiness embarrassed him and he felt that people were snickering at him. For that reason he rarely sunbathed and put on a shirt as soon as he got out of the water.

Thomas, except for the ferocious, muscular, over-trained body, looked surprisingly the same. His face was unmarked and

the expression was still boyish and ingratiating. Thomas kept smiling during his formalities before the beginning of the bout, but Rudolph could see him flicking the corner of his mouth nervously with his tongue. A muscle in his leg twitched under his shiny silk purple trunks while the referee was giving the final instructions to the two men in the centre of the ring. Except for the moment when he had been introduced (In this corner, Tommy Jordache, weight one fifty-nine and a half), and had raised his gloved hand and looked quickly up at the crowd, Thomas had kept his eyes down. If he had seen Rudolph and Gretchen, he made no sign.