The Love Machine (9 page)

“Aren’t you having a good time?” he asked.

“I’d be better off home. You don’t need me just to sit here and watch you drink.”

Robin stared at her for a moment. Then the slow grin appeared. He turned to Ethel. “What time do you have to be up in the morning?”

“I don’t need any beauty sleep,” Ethel answered, “it wouldn’t help.”

Robin grinned. “Jerry—we’ve just switched girls.”

Amanda grabbed her bag and stood up. “Robin, I want to go home.”

“Sure, baby.”

“Well?” Her eyes were too misty to be angry.

“Sit down,” he said gently. “I like it here. I want to stay awhile.” Amanda sat down reluctantly, her eyes challenging, awaiting his next move.

Jerry Moss stirred uneasily. “Ethel, maybe you and I should cut out. There’s a swinging party a friend of mine is giving, just a few blocks from here—”

“I want you both to stay.” Robin spoke quietly but it was a command. Then he drained his glass of vodka and ordered another. He turned and looked at Amanda with a tender smile. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? And she should have sleep. I’m a thoughtless son of a bitch. Really want to pack it in, baby?”

She nodded, as if not trusting her voice.

He leaned over and kissed her on the head. Then he turned to Jerry. “Put Amanda in a cab, Jerry, then come back. After all, we can’t let New York’s top model lose her sleep while we do some serious drinking.”

Amanda got up and walked out of the room. Jerry followed her helplessly. Every man at the bar stared as she walked to the door. When she got outside she crumpled. “Jerry, what did I do wrong? I love him, I love him so much. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, honey. He’s just turned off for this evening. When he turns off no one can get through to him. He’ll forget it by tomorrow.” He whistled and tried to flag a cab.

“Make him realize I love him, Jerry. Don’t let that ugly cow move in. She’s trying to—isn’t she?”

“Honey, Ethel Evans is a one-night stand for everyone. Robin knows the score. Now get a good night’s sleep.”

A cab pulled up. He opened the door.

“Jerry, I’m going back there. I can’t let him—”

He pushed her into the cab. “Amanda, you’ve only known Robin a few months. I’ve known him for years. No one ever tells him what he can or can’t do. You want to know what you did wrong? And I’m only guessing, but you made noises like a wife. You told him not to drink. Don’t crowd him, Amanda. This man needs space. He was always that way. Even at college. Now go home, get your sleep, I’m sure it will be all over by tomorrow.”

“Jerry, call me when you leave him. No matter how late it is—how can I sleep when we’ve parted like this! Please, I’ve got to know, even if he tells you he’s had it with me—or if he winds up with that girl …”

“He won’t tell me anything. You should know that.”

Jerry was suddenly aware that the taxi driver was enjoying the scene while his meter was clicking. He gave him Amanda’s address.

She rolled down the window. “Call me, Jerry”—she reached out and grabbed his arm—
“please.”

He promised. Then he watched the cab disappear. He felt for Amanda. Robin hadn’t been intentionally sadistic tonight. He had just turned off. Jerry had learned to recognize this trait in him. Maybe it was part of his charm. You could always count on Robin to do the unexpected. Like inviting Ethel Evans to join them.

“How about some hamburgers?” Jerry asked, as he returned to the table.

“You can afford to skip a meal,” Robin said easily. “You missed gym twice last week.”

“I live near here,” Ethel said. “Why not come back to my place? I scramble crazy eggs.” She looked at Jerry and added, “And I’ve got a very nice blond roommate. She might have a towel around her head but if we give her five minutes’ warning, she can have the coffee going.”

Robin stood up. “I’m not hungry. Jerry and I will walk you home. Then Jerry can walk me home.” He picked up the bill and handed it to Jerry. “You sign it, junior. It’s a write-off for you: entertaining a client.”

Ethel lived at Fifty-seventh and First Avenue. She walked
quickly trying to keep up with Robin’s long strides. “You live near here?” she asked.

“I live on the river,” he answered.

“Maybe we’re neighbors—”

“It’s a long river,” he said.

They walked silently the rest of the way. For once Ethel found it hard going. He had a way of answering that seemed to curtail any added conversation. They stopped in front of her building. “Are you sure you don’t want a nightcap?” she asked. “I have some hundred-proof vodka.”

“No. I’m packing it in for now.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you. I’m sure you’re going to be very happy at IBC, and if there’s anything I can do—”

His smile was slow. “I’m happy everywhere, baby. See you around.” Then he walked off with Jerry stumbling after him.

Ethel stared at them as they rounded the corner. She wanted Robin so bad she physically ached. Why couldn’t she look like Amanda? Why did she have to always kid and come on strong to get a man? What did it feel like to have a man actually call you and want you and look at you as if you were the most desirable woman in the world? She walked down to the river and knew the tears were running down her face. Oh God, it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair to put the heart and emotions of a beautiful woman into the body of a peasant. Why hadn’t her emotions been as commonplace as her body? Then she could have settled for Peter Cinocek, maybe even been happy with him.

“Oh, God”—she said it aloud—”I just want to be someone, to have a man who
is
someone care about me. Is that too much to ask?” Suddenly she felt an unbearable loneliness. All the dreams, the one-night stands—but she had
nothing!
Sure, a nice apartment, beautiful compared to Hamtramck, but just a three-room modern place, shared with another lonely girl who also went after one-night stands. Sure it was great to hold a star in your arms, but the next night he was gone.

She walked back to her building. She was positive that Robin Stone was in Amanda’s arms by now. She pushed this thought from her mind. No use making herself more miserable. There would be another night.

When Robin and Jerry left Ethel, they walked a few blocks in silence. They passed a bar and Robin said, “Let’s cut in here and grab one for the road.”

Jerry followed silently.

“Where do you put it?” he asked.

Instead of the usual silent grin, Robin stared at the glass seriously. “Christ, I went so long without drinking, I’ve got a lot of making up to do. I came from a health-oriented family. My father never touched it.”

Jerry laughed. “And I used to think you were a swinger at college.”

Robin stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Were you around Harvard at the same time?”

“Class before you,” Jerry said meekly. He was glad no one else was around. Everyone knew he and Robin had gone to school together and thought their friendship dated back to that time. That was one of the disturbing things about Robin. He always seemed attentive, but you never knew whether anything you said registered. Suddenly Jerry was angry at his own submissiveness. He turned to Robin with a rare show of spirit. “Where in hell did you think we met?”

Robin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I never thought about it, Jerr. I meet so many people. Seems I just looked up one day at the Lancer Bar and there you were.” Robin signaled for the check. They walked out in silence. Jerry walked Robin to the large apartment house on the river. It suddenly occurred to him he had never been to Robin’s apartment. Either he walked him home, or they met at a bar.

When Robin casually said, “Come on up for a nightcap,” Jerry felt embarrassed. It was as if those clear blue eyes had read his thoughts.

“It’s pretty late,” he mumbled.

Robin’s smile was almost a sneer. “Wife waiting to give you hell?”

“No. It’s just that I have a long drive ahead, and I have an early appointment in the morning.”

“Suit yourself,” Robin said.

“All right. One fast beer,” Jerry conceded. He followed Robin
into the elevator. He would put in a good word for Amanda, he told himself.

It was an attractive apartment. Surprisingly neat and well furnished.

“A girl I knew—before Amanda,” Robin said, as he waved his hand around the room.

“Why did you treat Amanda so badly tonight? She loves you. Don’t you feel anything for her?”

“No.”

Jerry stared. “Tell me, Robin—do you ever feel
anything
? Have any emotions?”

“Maybe I feel a lot of things, but I’m not able to show it.” Robin smiled. “I guess life would be a lot easier for me if I could. I’m like an Indian. If I get sick, I just turn and face the wall and stay there until I get better.”

Jerry stood up. “Robin, you don’t need anyone. But for what it’s worth, I’m your friend. I don’t know why, but I am.”

“Bullshit—you’re with me because you want to be. You just said it yourself. I don’t need anyone.”

“Didn’t you ever feel any obligations toward anyone?” Jerry knew he was probing, but he was helpless to stop.

“Yep. In the war. A guy saved my life and he didn’t even know me. He was in another plane. Suddenly he pointed to my right. A Messerschmitt was coming at me. I dived and got away. Two minutes later he got hit. I owe him a hell of an obligation. I owe him my life. I tried to find out who he was, but seven of our planes were knocked out that day. I would have done anything for that guy—even marry his widow if she’d have me. But I never knew who he was.”

“Then you’d feel the same way about a surgeon?”

“Nope. That’s his job to save me. I’d be paying him. But this guy in the plane, he didn’t know me. He didn’t have to save my life.”

Jerry was silent. “What kind of an obligation do you expect from a friend?”

Robin’s smile was tight. “I don’t know. I never had one.”

Jerry started for the door. “Robin, I’m not going to give you my scout knife, or wait until you cross the street against signals and save your life. But I am your friend and I’ll toss you some
free advice. Don’t write Amanda off as just another broad. I don’t know her well, but there’s something about her—I can’t say what it is, but I sense it. She’s quite a girl.”

Robin put down his glass and came across the room. “Good God, I forgot about the bird.” He went into the kitchen and switched on the light. Jerry followed him. There was a large ornate birdcage on the floor. And at the bottom a miserable little baby sparrow sat, staring at them.

“I forgot to feed Sam,” Robin said, as he dug out some bread.

“That’s a sparrow, isn’t it?” Jerry asked.

Robin came over with a piece of bread, a cup of water and an eyedropper. He reached into the cage and gently took out the bird. It nestled in his hand with confidence. “The little jerk tried to fly too soon. It fell out of its nest and landed on my terrace and broke a wing or something. Amanda saw it happen. Naturally she rushed out and bought a cage, and I’m its new mother. She can’t take it home: she’s got a Siamese cat. The damn thing can walk up walls.”

He held the little bird gently and it opened its beak expectantly. Robin broke off some bread crumbs and fed the bird. Jerry’s amazement increased when Robin took the eyedropper and dropped some water down its little beak. Robin smiled sheepishly. “This is the only way it can drink.” He placed it back in the cage and closed the door. It sat there and stared at Robin gratefully, its bright little eyes fastened on the tall man.

“O.K., Sam, it’s nighttime now,” Robin said. He switched off the light and walked back to the bar. “I don’t think it’s in pain,” he said. “It eats like a son of a bitch—if something’s in pain it doesn’t eat, does it?”

“I’m not familiar with birds,” Jerry answered. “But I do know that a wild bird can’t live in captivity.”

“Listen, as soon as the little jerk mends, I send him on his way. He’s a smart little bird with a mind of his own. Did you notice how he closed his bill after he had some crumbs, and demanded water?”

Jerry was tired. It seemed incongruous that a man like Robin would be so gentle with a sparrow and so callous to a woman. “Why not call Amanda and tell her the bird is okay?” he suggested.

“She’s probably been sleeping for two hours,” Robin answered. “Her career comes first. Look—don’t worry about Amanda. She’s been around the turf, she knows the score.”

Robin was pouring himself another drink when Jerry left. It was late, but he decided to walk to the garage. It would clear his head. On impulse he stopped at a drugstore and called Amanda.

“Jerry—I’m so glad you called. Oh, Jerry, he wound up with that cow, didn’t he?”

“For your edification, we left that cow at her door maybe twenty minutes after you left.”

“But it’s so late—what have you been doing? Why didn’t you at least call and tell me? I would have been able to sleep.”