What's in It for Me? (22 page)

“Shut up!”

I pushed her away and reached down to pick him up. His face was cut and bleeding and his collar and tie were torn away. He stood up under his own power but he didn't have any fight left in him.

“Listen, Bogen,” he gasped, “you—!”

“Shut up, Teddy. When you win a fight, then you'll get a chance to talk.” I held him firmly and steered him to the door.

“Listen, Bogen, you'll get yours some day.”

“The nearest I should get to it, Teddy, is you wishing for it.”

“You'll, you'll get it, don't worry.”

“What are you gonna do, Teddy, start praying for it?”

“Praying won't do it.”

“Nothing's gonna do it.”

“Some day someone's gonna come along. Someone that's even a bigger son of a bitch than you are, Bogen and then—”

I laughed again.

“What's the matter, Teddy, you changed my rating? All the time I know you, you been saying there aren't any bigger son of a bitches than me?”

“You'll get it, Bogen. You'll get it.”

I took him by the coat collar and opened the door and held him on the threshold. He reached up to straighten his hat and touch the side of his jaw. He was breathing violently. Almost a whistle.

“Listen, Bogen,” he gasped again, “you think you're—”

“Shut up and get out, Teddy. And remember what I told you about staying away from Martha.”

I shoved him out into the hall and he went staggering toward the elevator.

“And listen,” I called after him. “Tell your friend Kermit Terkel I'm gonna call on him bright and early tomorrow morning. If he knows what's good for him, he won't be in.”

I slammed the door and locked it. Then I went into the bathroom, took off the gloves and dropped them in the hamper. I washed my hands and combed my hair and walked out into the living room. She had taken off her hat and coat and was sitting on the couch, perfectly composed, smoking a cigarette calmly.

“I thought you and I made a deal,” I said finally.

She shrugged.

“We did, but I can't help it if he shows up at the theatre after the show and—”

I cut in on her coldly.

“When two people make a deal they can help anything that—”

“Don't start reading me a lesson in morals, Harry.”

“Then don't start leaving me notes about lawyers and your husband and the rest of that crap when you know damn well that—”

She bit her lip and looked at the end of the cigarette.

“I guess I got a little flustered, that's all. He showed up with this agent and I didn't know what to do so I wrote the—”

“Well, in the future you're going to know what to do,” I said grimly. “He's not showing up any more after tonight. Unless he signs a suicide pact with somebody and he can't find a gun.”

“You're getting tough all of a sudden, aren't you?”

“That seems to be the only way to handle certain people.”

“Well, just don't get tough with
me,
Harry.”

“Don't make it necessary, then.”

“What are you doing, threatening me?”

“I'm not threatening anybody, Martha. I'm just reminding you that we made a deal and—”

“What are you doing, grooming me for grandmother parts? By the time you get ready to come through on what you promised, I'll be an old woman with—”

“The trouble with you, Martha, is you talk too God damn much and you try to cover too much territory.”

“We're not talking about—”

“We're talking about a deal you and I made,” I snapped.

“We didn't have any clause in it about extending it for the rest of my natural life,” she shot back.

“If you'd only shut up and listen and try to be honest for once and stick to a deal when you make it, you'll—”

“You're a little early with your Sunday school sermon, Harry. It's only Wednesday.”

“It'll be curtains for you, not Wednesday, if you don't shut up,” I barked. “I'm trying to tell you something.”

“All right,” she said. “Tell.”

“We made a deal. And I'm going through with it. We're leaving for Europe in three or four weeks, at most four. We're doing Europe, then across to India, then Shanghai, then across the Pacific to Hollywood. This guy Terkel is just a big horse-shit artist, I found out. The hell with him. I've pulled strings directly on the Coast and things'll be just right for you to arrive there in three or four months. We leave New York in a month, we spent two or three months on the trip, and we land in Hollywood at just the right time for you.”

“Why, Harry! Why didn't you tell me that you were—?”

“How could I tell you when you skip out on me and go bouncing around town with two heels?” She didn't answer. “My money is beginning to loosen up again. Just as I told you it would. In three or four weeks there'll be enough of it to take care of both of us for a long, long time. That five hundred dollar check you're holding isn't rubber. It's good. That's a starter for some clothes that you'll probably want to buy. Go out tomorrow and spend it. And when you go through that, just tell me and there'll be more waiting for you. And remember that we sail in about three weeks, at most four. How's that for keeping my end of the deal?”

“I think it's wonderful, Harry.” She laughed quickly and sat down in my lap.

Suddenly I felt very tired.

The thing that had been gnawing at me for so long was settled now. It wasn't Teddy Ast over me. It was Teddy Ast's promises and Teddy Ast's money over my promises and my money. Now that was all over and he was out. But I felt empty and unsatisfied. Something was missing.

“Okay, Harry.” She cuddled close and rubbed her chest against me and put her arms around my neck. “It won't happen again.”

She was still holding the envelope with the check and it tickled the back of my neck as she squeezed me tight.

“That's what I like to hear, kid.”

She pressed her lips on mine and I kissed her. It was hot. But it tasted terrible.

I
CAME INTO HIS
private office with the dress.

“Here, Mr. Yazdabian. Here's number 2210.”

He looked up from the sample case on the table, glanced at the dress, then shook his head.

“I have number 2210 already, Mr. Bogen. I can't take more than my sample cases will—”

“You have it in blue. This taffeta number shows better in beige and I'd suggest you—”

He pursed his lips irritably.

“I have the swatches for the different colors. They can see the style from the blue just as well as they can see it from—”

I shrugged and hung the dress on the door.

“All right, if you say so, Mr. Yazdabian. But I think it makes a better impression in the beige.”

“Well, all right, Mr. Bogen,” he said finally. “Put it in the other case, please. And take out the blue. I have too much already. I can't take two of the same number.”

“Okay, Mr. Yazdabian.”

I took the blue out of the case and substituted the beige. He worked over the other sample case, checking the dresses in it against his list.

“You'll be very careful about orders coming in, won't you, Mr. Bogen? I'll send them in by air mail from wherever I am, and you see that they're filled properly and promptly.”

“They'll all be shipped the day they come in, Mr. Yazdabian.”

“Fine,” he said, still bent over his sample case. “And you'll be very careful about meeting bills, won't you?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Eckveldt will tell you from her diary every morning what has to be paid and she'll make out the checks. See that they go out promptly, as I don't want our credit rating to be injured.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Yazdabian. That'll be taken care of promptly.”

“Another thing.”

“Yes?”

“I've been thinking over what you said the other day about entertaining expenses, Mr. Bogen.”

“Oh, well,” I said quickly, “maybe I put things a little harshly, Mr. Yazdabian. We were both a little excited and I guess we said things that we didn't exactly—”

“Perhaps. But what I started to say, Mr. Bogen, was that you may be right to a certain extent. I may have clamped down a little too hard.”

“That's all I meant, Mr. Yazdabian. I didn't mean we should go out and spend all our—”

“I know you didn't. But now that I'll be away, Mr. Bogen, and you'll be in charge here all by yourself, I leave it entirely to your judgment as to how much to spend while I'm away. But I wish, Mr. Bogen, well, I wish you wouldn't—”

“It's all right, Mr. Yazdabian. I won't take advantage, if that's what you mean.”

“Not at all, Mr. Bogen. I merely meant—”

“Let's forget it, Mr. Yazdabian. You won't have anything to regret. You have my assurance on that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bogen. And now I guess I have to rush, don't I?” He pulled out his watch and looked at it. “We have to get these to the train and we have to stop at the bank first—” He slipped the watch into his pocket. “Tell Eric to come in, will you, Mr. Bogen?”

“Come into Mr. Y's office, will you, Eric?”

“Coming.”

A moment after I closed the door, it opened and Miss Eckveldt stuck her head in.

“Mr. Bogen.”

“Yes?”

“There's a Mr. Herman in the showroom to see you.”

I stared at her.

“A who?”

“A Mr. Herman.”

“Tell him I'm too busy to see him.”

Miss Eckveldt disappeared and Yazdabian looked at me.

“What is he, a buyer, Mr. Bogen?”

I laughed.

“Don't be silly, Mr. Yazdabian. I'm never too busy for buyers. Somebody asking a favor or something, I guess.”

The door opened and Eric came in.

“Help me close these sample cases,” Yazdabian said to him. “And then take them down to Penn Station and wait for me at the information booth. I'll meet you there in—”

The door opened, Miss Eckveldt stuck her head in again.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Bogen, but that Mr. Herman says it's extremely important and he must see you at once.”

“Oh, all right,” I said finally. “Tell him I'll be right out.” She disappeared and I turned to Yazdabian. “I'll see what this bird wants, Mr. Yazdabian, but don't let this slow you up. When you're ready to go to the bank, just pick me up in the showroom. I can get rid of this guy at any time.”

“All right, Mr. Bogen.”

I left him with Eric, working over the sample cases, and I walked into the showroom. Murray was standing against one of the purple tables, twirling his hat awkwardly. He was wearing a new topcoat and he actually looked presentable. All he needed was a mustache and he'd look like a district attorney.

“Hello, there, Murray,” I said, coming forward and holding out my hand. “What's with you?”

“Oh, hello, Harry.” We shook hands and he continued quickly. “Listen, I wanted to—”

“What's on you mind, Murray? I'm in a sort of hurry this morning. My partner is going out on the road, and I have to—”

The uncertainty went out of his face and he scowled slightly.

“I don't want to waste any of your time.”

“Well, then, come to the point, Murray. What is it?”

“My mother tried reaching you last night and—”

“I know. I got the message too late. I was going to—”

“And we tried calling you again this morning,” he continued, “but some girl answered the phone—”

That's what she was, all right. Some girl.

“My maid, probably,” I said dryly.

“She said you'd left for the office rather early this morning, and I didn't want to take a chance on missing you again, so I dropped off here on my way to my office.”

“That accounts for your movements pretty successfully, Murray, but I still don't know what you want.”

“We tried to reach you because your mother had a slight accident yesterday,” he said quietly, “and we—”

“What?”

He smiled reassuringly and pushed me off gently.

“Don't get so excited, Harry, it's—”

“Don't start telling me when to get excited! What happened? Where is she? What did she—?”

“She's perfectly all right and she's home and it's nothing serious,” he said quickly. “But—”

“But what? For Christ's sake, can't you talk? What—?”

“I'm trying to tell you,” he said patiently, “if you'll only give me a chance to—”

“All right. All right. But what happened?”

“The nearest I could get the story from her and from my mother, she was coming upstairs in the afternoon with a bag of something or other, I don't know what, from the grocery or some place like that. Anyway, she slipped on the steps and she banged her knee against the wall or the step, she's not sure what, and—”

“So what happened? It's serious? Where's—?”

He shook his head.

“I don't think so, Harry. She says she went up and went into the house and she didn't think anything of it. But later, around six or seven o'clock, it started to hurt her. So when my mother came down to see her she told her about it and my mother said maybe she ought to see the doctor, because she's got those varicose veins in her legs, you know. So they called up the doctor and he—”

“Whad he say?”

“He said she had a clot, or something like that, I couldn't quite understand what it—”

“You see the doctor?”

He nodded.

“Yes. He was there just when I happened to get home last night and when I couldn't find my mother home, I went down to your house to look for her, and there she—”

“The doctor. The doctor. Whad the doctor say?”