What's in It for Me? (8 page)

I looked at my own wrist watch.

“Well,” I said, “I've got another appointment at—All right, go ahead, Teddy. I can make it in plenty of time.”

He stood over a small showroom table and scanned mail, dictated a couple of letters, signed a check, okayed a half dozen orders, and sent the entire office staff of three girls hopping in and out in a steady chain, like circus elephants holding each other's tails on their way from the big tent to the train.

“All right,” he said finally, waving everybody away. “That's enough right now.” He lit a cigarette and pulled up a chair beside mine. “Boy,” he said as he sank into it with a sigh, “you don't know how lucky you are you're out of the dress business, Harry.”

“Too much for you, eh?” I said.

He sat erect at once.

“Too much?” he said. “Hell no. It's just that—well, you know, sometimes for one person, it gets a little too—”

Not for the right person.

“What's the matter, Teddy?” I said, grinning. “You offering me a partnership?”

He shook his head grimly.

“Once was enough, boy,” he said. “Any guy that goes back into partnership with you, Harry, ought to go out and give himself up. He's nuts.”

What the hell made him so sure he was sane?

“Well, anyway,” I said. “What do you say we get started?”

“Suits me,” he said. “Tell me what you need and I'll have my boy bring out the—”

“Frig that,” I said. “I take your word for the condition of the stuff. Velvets are velvets. Just see that they get a good steaming and get wrapped fairly well and it'll be all right.”

I put my notebook on the small table between us and lifted out the orders I wanted filled. He checked with me on the quantity and the sizes.

“The colors may not be exactly like it says on these orders,” he began, “because after all—”

“That's all right,” I said. “From my clients I get the discretion to pick out what I think is right. They want something in green, so okay, as long as it's not blue or pink or yellow, it's all right. That discretion I pass on to you.”

“Then you got nothing to worry about,” he said. “The orders'll be filled promptly, and you'll—”

Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about, but there was one little item that he could have been devoting a little thought to.

“By the way,” I said casually, “what happened last night after I left, Teddy? You take Martha home?”

“Uh, no,” he said uncomfortably. “She hadda go to the theatre to take the performance after all, so I just took her over there and I left her and—” He stopped, but I didn't take it from there.

“Say,” he said more briskly, “how's your mother?”

“What?”

“How does she feel?” he asked. “Your mother. You said yesterday she was sick and you hadda go up to—”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Well, she's all right. She's resting much better. It wasn't as serious as we thought.”

“That's fine,” he said. “I'm glad to hear that.”

I'd see how glad he'd be to get the next bit of information.

“Well, listen,” I said, “let's wind this thing up here.” I pointed to the papers in his hand. “You've got the orders and the quantity, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay,” I said calmly. “You're getting your regular price for them, twelve-seventy-five. But you're gonna bill them out to my clients at fifteen-seventy-five. Right?”

He scowled at me quickly and sat up straight in his chair.

“Hey, now, wait a minute,” he said. “I didn't say—!”

I wasn't interested in what he'd said or hadn't said. I was interested in what he was going to do. The profit on this one deal wasn't important, even though it wasn't tin. What I needed was someone with whom I could work it regularly, without depending on finding job lots. It was tough on Teddy, but he'd been elected for the post.

“What's the matter, Teddy?” I said innocently. “That's per our agreement, isn't it?”

“What agreement?” he demanded angrily. “What the hell you talking about?”

“What's the matter, your memory go on the fritz or something?” I said. “Don't you remember our talking at the table last night when Martha went out for a minute?”

“I remember
you
talking,” he said sullenly. “But I didn't say anything.”

He rarely displayed that much consideration for his listeners. But I wasn't holding him to what he'd said. We'd made an agreement over and above our words.

“You don't have to give me any of that horseshit now, Teddy,” I said evenly. “They took you out of knee pants a long time ago. You know what I'm talking about.”

He dropped his eyes from mine and looked at the orders on the table.

“Listen, Harry,” he said, “this is—”

“Regular twelve-seventy-five stuff,” I said coolly. “But you bill them out at fifteen-seventy-five.”

There was a long pause.

“All right,” he said finally, in a low voice.

I got up and tucked the notebook under my arm.

“So long, Teddy,” I said cheerfully. “When I get some more orders that I think you can fill for me, I'll be dropping in to see you.”

I
T WASN'T QUITE TWELVE
o'clock when I came to the apartment, but already there was activity in the bedroom.

“Who's there?” she called, “Harry?”

“That's right, Martha,” I said. “It's me.”

She was sitting in front of the dressing table, combing her hair and humming. She looked at me in the mirror.

“What's that you got there, Harry?”

“I brought you the papers.”

“Thanks,” she said, “I'll read them later.”

I put them on the bed and she went back to her hair.

“Nice day out?” she asked.

“Not bad.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her. She had helped me make a little over twelve hundred bucks that day. Maybe I'd buy her a box of handkerchiefs. “How come you're up so early today?” I asked casually.

She shook her head and fluffed her hair out in the back.

“Rehearsal at two,” she said.

“By the way,” I said, bouncing myself up and down gently on the bed, “what did you think of that shrimp Ast?”

She didn't even miss a stroke with the comb.

“Who?” she asked.

I wiped my face with my handkerchief to hide the smile that I couldn't stop quickly enough.

“Ast,” I said. “You know, Teddy Ast. The guy I introduced you to last night at the table.”

“Oh, him!” she said. “He's all right, I guess.”

“I had to leave in such a hurry last night,” I said, “that I was a little worried later about leaving you with practically a total stranger.”

If they were strangers, I was Rin Tin Tin.

“Oh, he was all right,” she said in an offhand way.

“Kind of an interesting guy, in his own way, isn't he, Martha?”

“He didn't do any card tricks at the table, if that's what you mean,” she said, squinting at herself in the mirror.

“I hope he didn't bore you,” I said, with the soft pedal on the sarcasm. “He's such a brilliant guy, you know, he can have you chewing the tablecloth in—”

“Oh, he talked about the weather and he paid the check,” she said. “That's about as much as you can expect from any man, I guess.”

Sailors and weather prophets. What an upbringing
she'd
had!

“When did he leave here last night?”

The hand holding the tweezers didn't miss a hair.

“He didn't even get here,” she said.

My teeth came together with a click.

“Not at all?”

This time I couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. She disregarded it completely.

“Not at all she,” she said.

I sat up on the bed and stopped bouncing.

“What kind of a—?” I began.

She stroked her eyebrow and examined it like it was a recently uncovered Rembrandt.

“He ran into some buyers in the restaurant,” she said, “and you know what I think of buyers.”

I knew what she thought of buyers. I wanted to know what she thought of Teddy Ast.

“So?”

“So I got up and said good night and thanks for the meal and I took a taxi to the theatre. That's all.” That's all, balls. “You know me, Harry. I always act like a perfect lady, even to your friends.”

“Didn't even take you to the theatre, eh?”

“You didn't introduce him as a gentleman,” she said. “So I wasn't disappointed.”

I took my knee in my hand and watched the back of her head. What was going on here, anyway? He said he took her to the theatre; she said he didn't. In my pocket I had duplicates of the charges he was going to jack up for me, which meant that he'd been here; but she said he hadn't been. What was she becoming in her late twenties, modest?

“A fine gentleman that guy turned out to be!” I said in an annoyed voice. “I introduce him to a girl and I have to leave in a hurry, so he practically walks out on her. Doesn't even take her home! Go introduce your friends around to him!”

“Maybe that's the way he always acts,” she said.

“Well, it's about time he learned to act different,” I said. “Just wait till I see the little baloney. I'll tell him a thing or two. Or three.”

She swung around quickly.

“Oh, why bother about it, Harry. It's not important. He doesn't count. Why waste your time?”

“It's no waste, of time to me,” I said sharply. “There's nothing I enjoy so much as going around teaching people manners.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You're making a big fuss about nothing. He's a completely unimportant person, and I don't like to see you spending your—”

I pointed to the front of her negligee, which had begun to open in the excitement of her speech.

“Your whatchamacallit,” I said. “Better pull yourself together. You're spilling out there.”

She bit her lip and drew the negligee around her. A cockeyed suspicion had suddenly begun to crawl over me. What had happened so far was all right because it was what I had wanted to happen. But if somewhere in the process the parties of the second and third parts—if she and he decided to—

“How's your mother, Harry?” she asked.

“Well, don't worry about her,” I said. “She's all right.” I got up quickly and walked to the door. This little situation required immediate handling. “I'll see you at—”

“Where you going, Harry?” she asked. “You going up to the Bronx again tonight?”

“I don't know,” I said slowly. The hell I didn't. You put these little snotnoses out on the leash for a while and the first thing you know, they meet a lamppost they like and they start getting ideas of their own. “It depends on how she feels,” I said. “I'll have to call up later and find out.”

“Oh,” she said, and went back to tweezing her eyebrows.

“Well, I've gotta run now,” I said. “How about dinner before the show? All right?”

“All right.”

“Same place. I'll be there about seven.”

“Right.”

“Harry?” she called from the bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“Why don't you call up now and find out how she is?”

Either she thought I was blind, or she was getting damned careless. She knew me for eight months and she still didn't know that if she wanted me to be in the Bronx very badly that night, the only thing she could be sure of was that the Bronx was the last place in the world I'd be in.

“It's too early,” I said. “I'll call later. See you at seven.”

“All right.”

We'd see how all right it was going to be.

“So long.”

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter after twelve. I might still be able to make it. I jumped into a cab and rode down to the Nelson Tower. I caught Miss Vinegard just as she was adjusting the switchboard so she could go down to lunch.

“Hello, Mr. Bogen,” she said. “What—?”

“Listen, Miss Vinegard, you want to do me a favor?”

“Surely,” she said promptly. She really put the “ly” on. “What—?”

“Call this number for me, will you?” I scribbled the number on her pad. “A woman'll answer. Tell her you're calling for me and say I can't come up there tonight like I promised. Tell her I'll positively make it tomorrow night, but I can't make it tonight.”

She looked at me suspiciously.

“What—?” she began.

“Just please make the call, will you, Miss Vinegard?”

She shrugged and sat down at the switchboard. She dialed the number and a moment later said, “Hello? Hello? This is the office of Mr. Harry Bogen. That's right. Mr. Harry Bogen. I'm calling for Mr. Bogen. He told me to tell you that he can't come up there tonight like he promised. But he says he'll positively make it tomorrow night. What?” She looked at me with a frown and covered the mouthpiece with her hand “She wants to know—”

“Tell her I was called out of town unexpectedly on a business trip,” I said.

She uncovered the mouthpiece.

“He was called out of town unexpectedly on a business trip,” she said. She covered the mouthpiece again as she listened for a moment. The accent must have relieved her. “Who is it,” she asked curiously, “your mother?”

“Yeah,” I said, “it's my mother.”

The way I lied to her, you'd think she was my partner.

“That's right,” Miss Vinegard said into the mouthpiece. “He said tomorrow night. That's right. You're welcome.”

She pulled out the plug and adjusted her hat. I swallowed quickly and looked at my finger nails with great care.

“She get the message straight?” I asked casually.