The Love Machine (10 page)

“Well, we walked, then we stopped at a bar, then we walked to his place, then we drank and talked. And then we fed the goddam bird. When I left him he was extolling its virtues—how brilliant it is: it knows when it wants water.”

She laughed in relief. “Oh, Jerry. Shall I call him?”

“No. Amanda, play it cool. Give it time.”

“I know. I’m doing my best. You do all the right things automatically when your heart isn’t involved. You play it cool without even trying. It’s different when you care. I’ve never cared before. I’m in love with him, Jerry.”

“Don’t let him know.”

Her laugh was forced. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? To love someone, and have to hide it. You’re a man, Jerry. Did your wife play it cool? Is that how she got you?”

He laughed. “Mary wasn’t a top model and I’m not Robin Stone. And if I don’t get home, I may not have a wife. Good night, honey.”

EIGHT

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
Robin awoke at seven. He felt good. No matter how much vodka he consumed, he had yet to experience his first hangover. He was properly grateful to whatever mysterious force in his metabolism created this phenomenon and decided to enjoy it while it lasted. He realized that one day he would wake up feeling like any other guy who drank too much. He went to the refrigerator and poured himself a large glass of orange juice. Then he got a crust of bread and lifted the cover off the birdcage. The sparrow was lying on its side, its eyes wide open, its body stiff with death. He picked it up and held it in the palm of his hand. Poor little fellow must have been busted up inside. “You never complained either, you little bastard,” he said. “I like your style.”

He threw on a pair of slacks and a sport shirt. Then he put the small body into a cellophane bag. He left the apartment and walked to the river. “A burial at sea, Sam. I can’t offer you anything better than that.” A battered gray barge was inching its way along. He tossed the little bag into the black water and watched it spin into the ripples created by the boat. “I’m sorry you didn’t make it, fellow,” he said. “But at least you have one true mourner, which is a lot more than most people can claim.” He waited until the bag disappeared, then he walked back to the apartment.

He stood under a cold shower and when he turned off the water the phone was ringing. He quickly tied a towel around his waist and dripping water across the room, he grabbed the receiver.

“Did I wake you, Robin?” It was Amanda. “I have an early booking. I wanted to get you before I left.”

He fished around for a cigarette.

“Robin—are you there?”

“Yep.” He was searching the night table for matches. He found them on the floor.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“What about last night?”

“My walking out, but I just hated that girl and I guess I was tired and—”

“That was last night. Forget it.”

“How about tonight?” she asked.

“Fine. Want to cook for me?”

“I’d love it,” she said.

“Then it’s a deal. Make it steak and that crazy salad.”

“Robin, how’s the bird?”

“It’s dead.”

“But it was alive last night!”

“It was?”

“Well—” She thought quickly. “I figure it had to be, or you would have told me.

“You’re right. It kicked off sometime between two and five this morning. It was already stiff when I saw it.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I tossed it in the river.”

“You didn’t!”

“What did you expect? Did you want it laid out at Campbell’s?”

“No, but it sounds so callous. Oh, Robin, don’t you ever feel anything?”

“Yep. Right now I feel wet.”

“You know what you are? You’re a cold son of a bitch.” She said it as a statement of fact rather than in anger.

He laughed. She heard him drag on his cigarette.

There was a pause. “Robin—what do you want out of life?”

“Well, right now I want some eggs.”

“You’re impossible!” She laughed to break the mood. “Then you’ll be here at seven. Steak and salad. Is there anything else you want?”

“You.”

She laughed and some of her confidence returned. “Oh, Robin,

I forgot to tell you. Next week, I’ve been invited to the April in Paris Ball. They sent me two free tickets, and they cost a hundred dollars each. Will you take me?”

“Not on your life.”

“But I
should
go …”

“Baby, I may not even be in town next week.”

“Where are you going?”

“Maybe Miami, I want to start shaping up a team for the convention coverage with Andy Parino. He’s with our O&O station down there.”

“What’s O&O?”

“Owned and operated. Each network is allowed to own and operate five stations. Want to come? Ever been to Miami?”

“Robin, I don’t have vacations. I work all winter and summer.”

“Which reminds me, I’ve got to work too. See you at dinner, baby. And for God’s sake, keep that damn cat in the bathroom. He sat on my lap all through dinner last time.”

She laughed. “He adores you. And, Robin—I love you.” But he had already hung up.

Amanda grabbed a cab and headed for the Lancer Bar. That last job had run thirty-five minutes overtime. It meant a lot of money, but it also meant she didn’t have time to go home and change. And she had wanted to wear the new pale blue raw silk. Robin was back from Miami and it was their last night together before he left for Los Angeles and the Democratic Convention.

Damn Nick Longworth! She had wanted to take ten days off and go to Los Angeles with Robin. It would have been so marvelous. Of course during the five days of convention she wouldn’t see much of him. But after that he and Andy Parino were taking a few days off to play golf at Palm Springs. Robin’s invitation had been casual, but he
had
invited her!

Nick had been adamant. She was getting to be one of the hottest models in town. In the fall he was going to raise her fee again. He had too many important bookings for her in July. When she had explained this to Robin, she had longed for him to say, “To hell with the bookings—I’m your future.” But he had
only said, “Sure, baby, I keep forgetting how much money there is in the rag business.” And he had meant it.

But Nick was right. She had worked hard to get into this bracket. She needed the money and if she missed out on a few important jobs, it was more than just losing the money—it was giving another girl a chance to hit! She was on her way to the top.

She looked at her watch. She was ten minutes late and the cab was inching along. She sat back and lit a cigarette. No use worrying. Andy Parino was probably with Robin anyway. He had been with them every night since he arrived from Miami. She liked Andy. He was very attractive, actually he was probably better-looking than Robin. But she accepted his looks with the same apathy she felt toward the handsome male models she occasionally posed with. Beautiful, but so what? Yet just thinking about Robin made her feel light-headed. She wanted to get out of the creeping cab and run. But it was hot and humid outside and her hair would be ruined.

Their last night together. No, she mustn’t even think that way. He’d only be gone ten days. But ever since he’d become president of News he was always going off somewhere. He had been to Europe twice. She wondered if Andy would stick with them all evening. The last three nights they had met at the Lancer Bar, then gone to the Italian place and she didn’t have Robin alone until midnight. And the last three nights he had done an awful lot of drinking. Yet no matter how much he drank, it never seemed to affect his lovemaking. But she liked it better when he was sober—then she knew it was the man whispering the endearments, not the vodka.

The dim light of the bar made her blink. “Over here, baby!” She heard Robin’s voice and headed toward the booth in the back of the room. Both men stood up. Andy smiled in his open friendly way. But Robin’s grin and the fleeting second when their eyes met and held obliterated Andy, the bar, the noise—even her heartbeat seemed suspended in that one wonderful moment of intimacy no one else could share. Then she was sitting beside
him, and he was back to talking politics with Andy. And the room and noise came into focus. She watched him as he talked. She wanted to touch him but she sat back, her face composed in the “Nick Longworth Look”: slight smile—no movement of features—no lines.

The waiter placed a martini in front of her.

“I ordered it,” Robin said, “I’m sure you can use it. It must be hell to stand under lights on a day like this.”

She didn’t like the taste of alcohol. In the old days (before Robin) she would order a Coke and blandly say, “I don’t drink.” But somehow her instincts had warned her that Robin would never stay with a girl who didn’t drink. Most of the time she toyed with a drink. Sometimes she poured half of it into his glass. But today the martini felt cold and smooth. Maybe she was finally developing a taste for them.

Robin and Andy went back to the subject of the coming nomination. As the conversation continued, he unconsciously reached out and held her hand, which was his way of including her in a discussion that was over her head.

“Eleanor Roosevelt is coming as a last-ditch effort to help Stevenson, but he hasn’t a chance,” Robin commented. “It’s a shame, he’s a great man.”

“Don’t you like Kennedy?” Amanda asked. Actually she didn’t care one way or another, but she felt she had to show some interest.

“I’ve met him. He has great magnetism. I intend to vote for him. I’m just saying it’s too bad Stevenson is going to lose. It’s very rare to have two good men on the scene at the same time. It happened with Willkie, but he was running against Roosevelt. Who knows what might have happened if Willkie had been born ten years later?”

Then they fell to discussing the Vice-presidential nominee. She heard the names, Symington, Humphrey, Meyner… . She sipped her drink and watched Robin’s profile.

They went to the Italian place at nine. And when dinner was over and Andy suggested going to P.J.’s for a nightcap, to Amanda’s delight Robin shook his head: “I’ll have ten days of you, junior. This is my last night with my girl.”

He was unusually tender that night. He ran his hand through her light hair and looked at her gently. “My lovely Amanda, you’re so clean and sleek and beautiful.” He held her close and stroked her neck. And he made love to her until they both broke away exhausted and fulfilled. Then he leaped up and pulled her out of bed. “Let’s take a shower together.”

They stood under the warm water. She didn’t worry that her hair was soaked, that she had a job at ten in the morning. She hugged his wet body because now, this moment, was all that mattered. And when he reached out and turned on the cold water, she shrieked, but he laughed and held her close. After a moment her body grew used to it and it was wonderful. He kissed her with the water pouring on their faces. Then they got out of the shower and he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around them. She stood and stared into his eyes. “I love you, Robin.”

He leaned across and kissed her. Then he kissed her neck, and her small flat breasts. He looked up. “I love your body, Amanda. It’s clean and strong and wonderful.”

He carried her back to the bedroom and made love to her again. Then they both fell asleep locked in an embrace.

Amanda awoke because Robin was lying on her arm. It was dark and her arm was numb. She eased it from under him. He moved slightly but did not wake. She saw the bright eyes of the Siamese cat glowing in the dark. Dear Lord, he had managed to push open the door. He inched forward and sprang on the bed. She held him quietly and nuzzled him. He purred in contentment. “I’ve got to put you back in the living room, Slugs,” she whispered. “Robin doesn’t like to wake up and find you around his neck.”

She slipped out of bed carrying the cat. Robin stirred and his hand hit her empty pillow. “Don’t leave me!” he shouted. “Please—don’t leave me!”

She dropped the startled cat and rushed to his side. “I’m here, Robin.” She held him in her arms. He was shaking, staring into the darkness.

“Robin”—her fingers touched the cold dampness of his brow—“I’m here. I love you.”

He shook his head like a man coming out of water. Then he
looked at her and blinked as if he had just awakened. He grinned and pulled her to him. “What happened?”

She stared at him.

“I mean what in the hell are we doing sitting up like this in the middle of the night?”

“I was just putting the cat out and I was thirsty and then you yelled.”

“I yelled?”

“You said, ‘Don’t leave me!’ “

For a brief moment there was something close to fear in his eyes. Suddenly he smiled. “Well, don’t go sneaking off again.”

She clung to him. It was the first time she had ever seen him vulnerable. “I’ll never leave you, Robin, never. I love you.”