Weekend (37 page)

“So? What’s the matter?”

“You … aren’t you supposed to be, uh … hard?”

He looked down at himself as if to see what was there. Then he took the tip between his forefinger and thumb. She realized he was squeezing it but wasn’t sure exactly why. He continued to twirl it between his fingers, moving it back and forth, almost as if he were alone. She wondered if he was trying to masturbate in front of her. Nothing was happening and the look on his face turned from exasperation to sheer ugliness. She was frightened by the expression in his eyes. Something about this guy wasn’t normal, and she should have known it from the start. She reached for the hideaway key in her shirt pocket and moved toward the door. He took steps to cut her off.

“You going somewhere?” he said.

“I gotta get back to the farmhouse. Magda’s going to be calling.” She rushed to the door lock, inserted the key and turned the handle. He grabbed her other hand and put it on his cock. “Stop that,” she cried and pushed him against the wall. “There’s something wrong with you. I don’t know what, but you’re sick, sick, sick!”

She flung the door open and ran out.

“Wait,” he yelled, “you don’t under …” but she was already down at the end of the hall. He closed the door and stood there, naked, inert and alone. Then he picked up the coin and heaved it against the wall. It fell near his feet, heads up. He would have lost again.

“Is that really you?” Charlotte said. She was on her fourth rum and Coke and beginning to feel the effects. She turned around completely to face Manny Goldberg as he entered. He smirked. There were only a half dozen people in the bar and Charlotte was at the same seat she was in when he had left to escape the quarantine.

“Yeah, it’s me. In the flesh.”

“What happened to you?” she asked as he stepped further into the light. He looked down at his clothing and for the first time since he had been escorted back from the parking lot, realized what a mess he was. Ordinarily he would have rushed right into the men’s room and washed up but at this point he was just too disgusted to care. He brushed down his shirt and sat on the stool beside her.

“I had an accident.”

“I’ll say.” She laughed and turned to the bartender. “I think this man needs a drink.”

“Scotch and soda,” he said. “Make it a double.” He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a cigar. It was totally crushed. “Damn.” He crumbled the bits and pieces in the ashtray.

“What did happen to you?”

He waited for the bartender to serve his drink. Then he leaned closer to her.

“I tried to get outta here, only they had a cop in the parking lot, sitting in a car.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. The son of a bitch wouldn’t let me go.” He took a long sip of his drink and looked around. “How come this place is so dead? I figured all the swingers would be down here by now.” He looked at his watch. “Dinner’s over, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure. The bartender says it’s been extended.”

“Oh.”

“But that isn’t the only reason the place is so empty, right, Charlie?”

“Pardon me?” the bartender said, stepping over to them.

“I was telling Mr. … Mr. …”

“Goldberg. Call me Manny.”

“Goldberg, call me Manny,” she tittered, “that there’s a reason why this place is like a funeral parlor. Charlie says there’s a wild party going on upstairs. Says it started here a couple of hours ago and then moved up to the fourteenth floor. Right, Charlie?”

“Right as the rain. And the bellhops who’ve been delivering the booze say it’s the wildest party they’ve ever seen around here.”

“That sounds like something I could use right now.” Manny finished his drink in one gulp.

“I’m celebrating,” Charlotte announced, apropos of nothing. He looked at her closely for the first time. Her eyes were already somewhat glassy from the rum. He left his gaze skim over her body and considered the possibilities. If he had to stay at the Congress and lose everything he had, he might as well go down with a bang.

“What are you celebrating?”

“My girl friend’s gonna be all right.”

“That sounds like something worth celebrating.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “What was wrong with her?”

“She had the little buggers.” She hiccuped loudly.

“Little buggers?” He thought for a moment and then moved back. “You mean she got the cholera?”

“Yep. The real thing. But the doctor says they caught it in time and everything’s going to be all right.” She lifted her drink in a mock salute and took another swallow.

“Shit. I’m tellin’ ya,” he said, “it’s not safe for anyone to stay here. You never can tell …”

“There’s nothing much we can do about it,” she sing-songed, rocking back and forth on her stool. “You saw what happened when you tried to escape. We might as well just sit back and enjoy it.” She tried to sit back and almost fell over.

He steadied her chair and looked at her again. She had the confused, vague, expression inebriated people sometimes get, as though her thoughts were stuck somewhere in her head like a broken 78.

“You’re right,” he said. “Maybe we should.” He threw a five-dollar bill on the bar as a tip for Charlie. “C’mon, whaddya say we go up to that wild shindig and check it out.” He took her by the arm.

“Huh?”

“The party. Let’s go see what’s happening.”

“Oh, the party. I don’t know. Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“C’mon. What harm can it do?” He tugged slightly. “After all, you’re the one who said we might as well enjoy.”

She stood up uneasily to join him. “See you later, Charlie.”

The bartender winked at her and continued to clean his glasses. Manny suggested they use the back stairs. He didn’t want to chance bumping into Flo in the lobby.

“But that’s fourteen flights.”

“So what,” he laughed. “The exercise will do you good.” He patted her on the fanny.

“Hey, I didn’t even eat yet.”

“Don’t worry. They probably have food up there anyway.”

“Well, okay, but I’m not walking up any fourteen flights.” She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him toward the lobby.

He followed her reluctantly. When they reached the elevators the door opened on a couple locked in a passionate embrace. Fortunately Flo was nowhere in sight. The duo turned and when they saw Manny and Charlotte looking in at them, they burst out in laughter.

“You didn’t come from the fourteenth floor by any chance, didja?” Manny asked as they teetered out.

“You better believe it,” the man said, giving him the high sign. “You better believe.” Manny pressed number fourteen hard and pulled Charlotte further into the elevator.

“I don’t want to upset you, Ellen,” Magda said, stopping her as she crossed the lobby toward the office. She was on her way to meet with Artie Ross to discuss the evening’s entertainment. The quarantine had shut out their feature performer. What they would have to do now was build around Bobby Grant and utilize the dance instructors and other staff.

“What’s wrong now?” She could tell from the look on Magda’s face it was serious.

“I just came back from the farmhouse.”

“Don’t tell me. Sandi isn’t there.” She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I knew it,” she said, shaking her head. “I knew she would never stay put. Has anyone seen her around the hotel?”

“I haven’t and I know no one at the front desk has. Maybe she just went for a walk.”

“But she promised she wouldn’t leave the house. Please, put the service desk on it. Have her paged and send someone to the coffee shop and the Teen Room.”

“I’ll take care of it. I hate to bother you about this now,” Magda said, her eyes saddened, “but I knew you’d be calling her eventually, and when I tried and there was no answer. …”

“When there was no answer you knew how I would feel. A cholera epidemic I can handle, but a daughter who might be caught up in the middle of it, I …”

“I’ll find her,” Magda said and squeezed Ellen’s hand. Ellen walked on, but was distracted by a signal from the main desk.

“We’re having a lot of complaints about a party on the fourteenth floor.”

“Party? You’ve got to be kidding. Someone’s having a party on a night like this?”

“A lot of someones, apparently. What should I do?”

“Whose room?”

“A Mrs. Kaplan. Divorcee. She came up with her son.”

“Well, send one of the bellhops up to ask them to calm down.”

“I think it might have gone beyond that stage, Mrs. Golden.”

“Call security then, but be sure to tell them not to create any incidents. Tell them to be polite, but firm.”

“I’ll pass on your instructions.”

“Damn,” Ellen said as she entered her office. Sid Bronstein was on her phone, his back to the door. He didn’t hear her enter.

“You know, Sylvia, you talk as though you believe I brought this situation on single-handed. What the hell do you think I’m doing? And don’t give me that crap about your father. Yeah, well …” He turned about and blanched the moment he saw Ellen. “I can’t talk any more, Sylvia. There’s a lot of work to be done here. Call Lois and go to dinner with her.” He hung up and shook his head.

“Good old Sylvia,” Ellen said.

“If anyone wants to know what keeps doctors from making house calls, just tell them it’s doctor’s wives. What’s up?”

“Got a meeting with Artie Ross to go over the nightclub entertainment. We were supposed to have Buddy Hackett tonight, but under the circumstances …”

“Can’t be of any help there. Listen, Ellen,” he added, “I just want to tell you what a fantastic job you’ve been doing. You’re absolutely incredible. Some women …” He looked at the phone. “Anyway, with the way Jonathan handled the preliminary situation …”

“Oh,” she said, “speaking of Jonathan, no one’s seen him since our little meeting here.” She went to the phone and dialed the intercom number to his suite. “If he’s there,” she said, waiting, “he’s not answering his phone.”

Before Sid could respond, there was a knock on the door and Artie Ross peered in.

“Busy?”

“No, I’m just leaving,” Sid said.

“Had two band members complaining, doc, but they both took bromos and said they’re feeling better.”

“Good. Let me know if there’s any change.” He started out. “I guess I’ll try to grab a quick bite.”

“Artie, you haven’t seen Jonathan anyplace, have you?” Ellen asked as he sat down.

“Jonathan? Come to think of it, no.”

She thought for a moment.

“Okay,” she said, “first things first. What are we going to do about getting these people entertained tonight?”

Nick stopped dead in the hall the moment he stepped out of the elevator. What in hell was going on in Melinda’s suite? He approached apprehensively, not quite sure what to expect. The music was extraordinarily loud, the people apparently unconcerned. Two couples were dancing in the hallway just outside the door and although the music was fast, they clung to each other’s arms as if it were a foxtrot. When one of the girls saw Nick over her partner’s shoulder, she licked her lips and smiled. He saw the half-naked crowd mingling in Melinda’s rooms, shook his head and walked away.

It was obvious what was going on, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He didn’t like group scenes. He wanted to focus all his attention on one woman, and in return, wanted all her attention on him. What angered him now was that he had lost his diversion. He was hoping to get his mind off things too. It angered him and he pounded on the elevator button. The doors opened immediately. When they closed, he banged the wall with his closed fist.

He was so deep in thought he didn’t notice that the elevator had dropped past the lobby. The doors opened on the basement floor. He started out and stopped. “What the fuck …” He was about to press the lobby button when his curiosity got the best of him. What was down here anyway? For want of anything better to do, he decided to check it out. Almost immediately, the doors closed behind him and the elevator went up, responding to another demand. Nick studied the corridor, listened to the sounds and then took a few steps forward.

Suddenly something or someone moved along the basement wall, maybe a hundred yards ahead of him. All he could make out in the dim light was a shadowy figure clinging against the side and slinking forward. Whoever it was looked as though he was crouching. Why?

He wondered why it even mattered. The odor, dank and stale, didn’t appeal to him at all. It would be nicer to go back up and sit in the bar and listen to soft music. The figure disappeared around the corner all the way down at the end of the corridor. He was about to leave when suddenly something occurred to him. Maybe there was an exit that led out of this place. If so, it would be nice to know about it. That way he could leave tomorrow if he had to. It certainly didn’t make sense to stick around, especially once Jonathan’s body was discovered.

He started forward in the direction of the shadow, slowly at first, and then quickly. But as he approached the end of the long corridor, he slowed down and made a great effort to move as silently as possible. It was always best to surprise the unknown. He stopped at the corner and peered around. As it turned out, it was a very smart thing to do.

Melinda’s party had done more than simply spill out and into the corridor. It served as an inspiration for other festivities as well. Some couples who had met there, many for the first time, took their wild and frivolous flirtations down to more private quarters. Others spent their passions in whatever free spaces they could find. All caution had been abandoned.

When Manny came upon the raucous gathering, he experienced a rather childlike excitement. He wanted it all and he wanted it now. An older, rather buxom woman had stripped down to her panties. She stood on a chair just inside the suite where Manny could see her and did a beaten-down imitation of a fading burlesque queen at a second-rate roadside tavern. A half dozen men were at her feet, gazing up at her Jell-O-like breasts as they wobbled in the mold. Their shoulders and heads bobbed and weaved in drunken synchronization with her every move.

When Charlotte peeked in, her first impulse was to run away. It was as though she feared another sort of contamination. In the past few years she had seen some wild things at Catskill resorts but certainly never anything that could compare to this. Had everyone, including herself, gone mad? Manny laughed and held her arm even tighter.