1974 - So What Happens to Me (3 page)

“But I’ve got to do something to earn my money. I need it. Could I look at your records so I can get out some kind of report for Olson”? Would you mind that?”

“Sure, Jack. That’s no problem. Go to my cabin. In the top left-hand drawer of my desk, you’ll find everything you want. I won’t come back with you. I have this machine to fix.”

“I appreciate that” I paused, then went on. “My report will probably lose me my job, but that’s my luck. I’m going to say there’s nothing I can do better than what you’re doing right now.”

He regarded me, smiled, then lightly punched me on my arm.

“You’ve said it. I’ve been constructing runways now for the past twenty years. See you tonight,” and leaving me, he returned to the stalled bulldozer.

I got in the jeep and drove back to the cabins. I was sweating. The afternoon sun was fierce and it was a relief to walk into O’Brien’s air-conditioned cabin. I paused in the doorway, startled.

A blonde girl was lolling in one of the lounging chairs. She was wearing red stretch pants and a white blouse that was open to her navel, just containing her heavy breasts. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a cascade of gold silk. She was around twenty-five years of age with a narrow, high cheek boned face with large green eyes. She was about the sexiest looking woman I had seen for more years than I cared to remember.

She regarded me coolly and then smiled. Her teeth were as white as orange pith and her lips glistening and sensual.

“Hi!” she said. “Looking for Tim?”

I moved into the room and closed the door.

“He’s out on the site.”

“Oh!” She made a little face, then stirred her lush body. “I was hoping to catch him. How that man works!”

“I guess that’s right.”

All right, I admit it, she turned me on. The girls in my small time town had nothing on her.

“Who are you?” she asked, smiling.

“Jack Crane. I’m the new runway supervisor. Who are you?”

“Pam Osborn. I’m deputy air hostess when Jean wants time off.”

We regarded each other

“Well, that’s fine.” I went over to the desk and sat down.

“Anything I can do for you Miss Osborn?”

“Maybe . . . it’s a lonely life sticking around this airport.”

She shifted a little in her chair. One of her heavy breasts nearly escaped but she pushed it back in time. “I looked in to chat up Tim.”

That I didn’t believe. I was sure at this hour—it was just after 16.00, she would know O’Brien would be on the site.

Again I felt wary. I was sure she had been waiting for me.

Why?

“You have no luck.” I opened the top left-hand drawer of the desk. There was a heavy black leather folder there. I took it out. “I too have work to do.”

She laughed.

“The brush-off Jack?”

“Well. . .”

We looked at each other.

“Well. . . what?”

I hesitated, but she had me going now.

“My cabin’s next door,” I said.

“So shall we go next door?”

Again I hesitated, but women like her do things to me. I put the folder back in the drawer

“Why not?”

She slid out of the chair as I came around the desk.

“There’s something about you . . .”

“I know, and there’s something about you too.”

I slid my arms around her as she slammed her body against mine. Her lips crushed mine and her tongue darted into my mouth.

All caution, all wariness went from my mind. I practically dragged her out of O’Brien’s cabin and into mine.

“You’re some man,” she said lazily.

The loving, if you can call it that, was over and she lay like a beautiful, sleek cat on the big bed beside me.

She had been the best lay I had had since the little Vietnamese way back in Saigon who had been a little more violent, a little more intense, but not much.

I reached for a cigarette, lit it and stretched. My mind became wary again.

“Sort of sudden, wasn’t it?” I said, not looking at her.

She laughed.

“I suppose. I heard you had arrived. I hoped you would want a little loving. I guessed you would come to Tim’s cabin or your own. I’m a girl who needs it and Man, are there creeps on this camp: creeps who are scared of their own shadows. They would no more screw than cut their throats: that’s how scared they are of losing their jobs.”

“So that talk about waiting to chat up Tim was so much crap?”

“What do you think? Can you imagine a girl like me taking on a sweaty, husky like Tim? I’ve nothing against him. He’s okay, but not my type.” She raised her arms above her head and released a contented sigh. “I was hoping to find new blood. . .I’ve found it.”

I half turned and looked at her. She was a beautiful, lush, hard piece of corruption, but she fascinated me.

“Does Olson get it from you?”

“Bernie?” She shook her head and her face darkened a little. “Don’t you know what happened to him? He got a bullet where it does the most damage. Poor Bernie is no longer operative.”

This shocked me. I knew Olson had been hit in the groin while completing his last mission, but I hadn’t thought just what that could mean. Was that Olson’s trouble, apart from being scared he would lose his job? Judas! I thought, if that had happened to me!

“I didn’t know.”

“He’s a marvellous man,” Pam said. “He talked to me about you. He thinks you’re marvellous too. He’s a big admirer of yours.”

“Is that right?”

“He needs you Jack. He’s lonely. He doesn’t get along with these other creeps. He kept asking me if I thought you would take this job. He was scared you would turn him down.”

Okay, it was well done, but there was a ring about it that warned me she had been rehearsed.

“I wouldn’t turn Bernie down no matter what the job was.”

She raised one leg and regarded it.

“Well, you’re here . . . that proves it, doesn’t it?” She lowered her leg and smiled at me.

“But how long do I stay? There’s no job here for me baby. Tim is taking care of the runway.”

“Bernie wants you to watch him.”

“I know. He told me. Tim doesn’t need watching.” I crushed out my cigarette. “What else did he tell you?”

She gave me that blank look women give when they are not talking.

“Just he wanted you with him: that’s all.”

“You sound as if you have his confidence.”

“You could say that. There are times when there is no flying. Essex isn’t always in the air. Bernie and I get together. He doesn’t like Jean. He’s lonely.”

“You don’t mean he’s offering to pay me out of his own pocket because he wants my company?”

“That’s about it Jack. I hope you’ll go along with him.”

“I think I’d better talk to him.”

“You do that.”

“He seems scared of losing his job.”

“Everyone is. Essex is hard to get along with and so is Mrs. Essex.”

“Is there a Mrs. Essex?”

Pam wrinkled her nose.

“You’re lucky Bernie is employing you. Yes there is a Mrs. Essex . . . dear Victoria. I hope you never run into her. She’s a blueprint for the biggest bitch in the world. Everyone is terrified of her.”

“Like that?”

“Yes. You put a foot wrong just once and Mrs. Essex gets you the gate. She has her husband in the palm of her hand. Okay, Essex is a bastard, full of conceit, but then he has something to be conceited about. But Victoria! She’s a jumped up nothing: just a beautiful face and body: a spoilt pampered bitch who plays hell with anyone who depends on Essex for a living.”

“She sounds nice.”

“That’s the word.” Pam laughed. “Keep clear of her. What are you doing tonight? Like to take me out to dinner? I have a Mini Austin. We could go to a seafood restaurant in the City. Fancy it?”

“Fine.” I said. “Now move this beautiful body out of here.

I have work to do.”

“Not on your first day Jack. That’s always fatal,” and she twined her arms around me.

TWO

L
’Espadon Restaurant, a straight steal from the Paris Ritz’s decor, was built out on a pier. Four plaster, painted swordfish plus some fishnets decorated the walls. The tables, lit by electric candles were set wide enough for people to talk secrets and not be overheard.

Pam was wearing one of those long things, down to her heels, caught at the waist with a silver belt with a snake’s head.

She looked pretty gorgeous. The Maître d’hôtel came sliding over to her, giving her his teeth with that wide, friendly smile that Maître d’s reserve only for their favourites. She said something to him I didn’t catch and with a wave of his hand he conducted us to a table at the far end of the restaurant with lush, plush seats for two and a view of the whole restaurant.

“A pleasure Miss Osborn,” he said as he drew out her chair. “A champagne cocktail?” He didn’t even look at me.

She sat down and smiled at him.

“That would be lovely, Henri.”

“May I arrange what you eat?” He was leaning over her and I could smell his after-shave.

“Let’s have the menu,” I said, “and a Scotch on the rocks for me.”

Slowly his head came around and he regarded me. His eyes moved over my slightly worn lightweight suit and a pained look came into his eyes. His expression told me as nothing else could that I was Mr. Nobody.

“Let’s leave it to Henri,” Pam said firmly. “He knows.”

I was tempted to start something but the opulence of this place and the hostile expression in this fat man’s eyes intimidated me. I gave up.

“Sure . . . let’s leave it to Henri.”

There was a pause, then Henri drifted away to receive a party of six.

“You screw him too?” I asked.

She giggled.

“Just once. It’s made a lasting impression. This is the only restaurant in this City where I eat free . . . and that includes you.”

I relaxed. From the look of the place I was sure I wouldn’t have had enough money to settle the check. I regarded her not without admiration.

“You get around, baby.”

“You can say that again.” Leaning forward, resting her cool hand on mine, she went on, “Henri is terrified of me. He has a jealous wife and he imagines I’m going to blackmail him.”

“Nice for you.”

The drinks arrived. There were little hot hors d’oeuvres to keep them company. Two waiters hovered over us. The restaurant was filling up.

“Some place.” I looked around. “This must cost plenty without Henri picking up the tab.”

“Oh it does.”

The wine waiter arrived with a bottle of Sancerre in an ice bucket. He bowed to Pam who gave him a sexy smile. I wondered if she were screwing him too.

Then a sole in shrimp sauce with slices of thick lobster meat arrived.

“You’ve certainly caught the knack of living,” I said as I forked fish into my mouth.

“Men!” Pam shook her head: her large green eyes wide with wonderment. “What they will do for a girl like me. The trick, of course, is to give a little and take a lot. Men are either grateful or they get scared, but it still pays off.”

“What am I supposed to be: grateful or scared?”

She chased a piece of lobster with her fork as she said, “Just be your exciting self.”

“I’ll remember that”

She shot me a quick glance.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.” We ate in silence for a moment or so, then I said, “Bernie won’t be back for a couple of days?”

“Look, Jack, let’s forget Bernie. Let’s enjoy ourselves. Right?”

But I was uneasy. Before leaving the airport, I had had a word with Tim. Pam had said she would pick me up at 20.00 so I had had time for a shave, a shower and a drink. Tim had returned to big cabin at 19.25. He had looked in.

“Got what you want?” he asked. He looked dead tired, sweaty and dirty.

I felt a twinge of conscience.

“I had a visitor. She didn’t leave me any time.”

“You mean Pam?”

“That’s who I mean.”

He grinned.

“That girl! I knew she would make for you, but not this fast.”

“I’m going out with her tonight.”

Tim eyed the drink in my hand.

“I could use one of those.”

“Come on in: she’s certain to be late.”

I mixed him a long Scotch and soda with plenty of ice.

“What is she?” I asked as I handed him the glass. “The local hooker?”

“She’s Olson’s girlfriend.”

That shook me.

“You know Bernie. . .?”

“Oh sure. He doesn’t care about her sleeping around. They have a thing for each other. The only thing they don’t do is go to bed together.”

“For Pete’s sake! If I’d known I wouldn’t have touched her! I’m not going out with her tonight if she’s Bernie’s girl.”

Tim drank greedily, paused to wipe his mouth with the back of his band.

“If you don’t, some other guy will. Just don’t think it’s anything but a lay Jack. She’s Bernie’s girl. She has to have it. Olson can’t give it to her, so he lets her play around. This is no secret: the staff here and I guess half Paradise City knows about it, but just don’t take her seriously.” He finished his drink, set down his glass and moved to the door. “Me for a shower and T.V.” He regarded me, then smiled. “Life’s damn odd, isn’t it.”

But I now had Bernie on my conscience.

***

“Look, Pam,” I said, then paused while the waiter took our plates away. “Tim tells me you’re Bernie’s girl. He’s my best friend. This bothers me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! I told you: I need it! Bernie doesn’t mind. Will you stop talking about it. I tell you: Bernie knows how I am. He doesn’t mind.”

The waiter brought a Tournedo Rossini with fronds d’artichauts and princess potatoes. He served while I thought.

“Looks marvellous, doesn’t it?” Pam said. “Mmmm! I adore eating here!”

“He must mind,” I said. “You mean he’s in love with you and you with him?”

“Oh, shut up!” Her voice was low and suddenly vicious. “Take what you get and be thankful!”

I gave up. I told myself from now on, I wouldn’t touch her. This was a hell of a situation! Bernie . . . the man I admired most and I had screwed his girl!

I lost my appetite. As good as the steak was, I now found it hard to eat. I looked around the restaurant while I played with the food on my plate. There was a sudden commotion with Henri flying down the aisle to the entrance. I saw a tall, massively built man, around sixty years of age, come out of the shadows and into the defused light. I have never seen such a man. By the way he walked he was obviously a queer. His fat face with its snout of a nose made me think of a disagreeable dolphin. He wore an outrageous orange wig that rested a little sideways on what was obviously a completely baldhead. He had on a buttercup yellow linen suit and a frilled, purple shirt.