A Man of Affairs (9 page)

“You’re just fiddling around with semantics, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. But it’s exciting. Of that you can be sure. Never a dull moment in Deanland.”

“Have you been with him long?”

“For more years than I care to think about. Mike’s anxious to have you aboard. There’s some hot spots coming up where he can use you.”

“Hasn’t he got anybody else?”

“Sure. But Mike has the idea that you get better service from the able and hungry young men. How are you feeling now, Sam?”

“A little shaky.”

She patted my arm. “You better go off to bed, really. And try to sleep in if you can.”

SIX

WHEN I WOKE UP at the usual six-thirty on Friday morning, I felt like hell. Every joint and muscle ached and twanged when I climbed laboriously out of bed. A long hot shower eased some of the anguish. The mirror told me my puffed mouth was back almost to normal. The tooth didn’t feel quite as loose. My right hand was damned sore. When I walked quietly down the veranda the bright morning had a garish look of unreality about it.

I felt that the place was changing me, and I wished I was back in my familiar office. Life moved a little too fast here, and it was a little too rotten ripe for my tastes. I thought about the papers waiting for my signature and I knew that the scene on the dock had, at least, done one thing. Until I knew which way Louise was going to jump, I had no decision to make. It could well be that any chance of further co-operation between us had been lost.

Booty came out to take my breakfast order while I was still wallowing in the pool. I clung to the side and gave her the order. Yesterday’s burn showed fine promise of eventually turning into a tan. Booty brought my breakfast and then backed up and stood there. I looked at her and she had her underlip caught in white strong teeth and she looked shyly troubled.

“What is it, Booty?”

“You fight that mon. I hear you beat that mon.”

“Yes, I guess I did.”

“I am glad.”

“Don’t you like him?”

“I do not like that mon. No. When I am in a room and I am cleaning, he wants me to do an evil thing. And that mon laughed when I run. I do not tell. I do not know if I should tell Mr. Dean.”

I thought quickly. “No, Booty. Don’t tell Mr. Dean. I’ll speak to Mr. Dodge. He won’t bother you again.”

“Thank you very much, sar. But all the same I will have with me a knife. Here.” She touched the side of her right thigh lightly, touched the white starch of her skirt. She turned and walked away.

I could think of very few men aside from Warren Dodge who would try anything like that.

At seven-thirty Louise came along in a different swim suit, a yellow one. She had a slightly sallow look and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She gave me a cool nod and one millimeter of formal smile, put her towel and lotion and dark glasses on the edge of the pool, tucked her dark hair into a white cap and dived in. I sipped my coffee and watched her sleek stroke. After she pulled herself out she headed for a far table. “Sit here, Louise,” I said.

She hesitated, came back and sat opposite me. “Thank you,” she said. She made a small formal ceremony of sitting down. In the process she erected a glass wall between us, perfectly transparent and about three inches thick. We could converse through it by means of an electronic communication system.

“How is Warren?”

“The left side of his face looks horrible,” she said, and I thought I saw a little gleam of satisfaction.

“We seem to be the earliest birds in the outfit.”

“Yes, don’t we?” Booty came out and Louise ordered toast and coffee.

I braced myself and said, “Any comment on that ugly little scene last night?”

She looked at me without change of expression. “Should I have?”

“Any general opinion then?”

“I decided in the night that Mr. Dean is perfectly capable of representing my ownership interest and my brother’s in Harrison.”

“I see. When is he going to find out about this?”

“Just as soon as I see him. Then I am going to request transportation back to Grand Bahama.”

“That’s right. There’d be no point in staying on.”

“Aren’t you going to make some sort of violent protest?”

“Would it do any good?”

“No.”

“Then why should I waste my time? I’d think you’d have a little more editorial comment to make, Louise.”

There was a flash of anger. “Don’t look so damn superior and tolerant. This is a cheap place full of cheap people. This place has a reek of sex and liquor and decay.”

“And I’m as cheap as the rest of them?”

“You seem to fit in admirably. I know when Warren is lying and I know when he’s bluffing, and I know when he’s telling the truth.”

“Let’s back up a minute, Louise. Just to get a little perspective. What the hell does my
personal
life have to do with whether or not I can run the Harrison Corporation? And who are you to sit in judgment and condemn me?”

“Who said I was?”

“Oh, come off it.” I paused while Booty brought her breakfast. When Booty was out of earshot I said, “I suppose I ought to be flattered.”

“How do you mean?”

“That you should care so much about my habits.”

“I care this much. I didn’t think you were cheap or callous or so… uncontrolled. I respected you. While I respected you, I trusted you. Now I can no longer respect or trust you, and doesn’t it follow that I can no longer think you’re the man to run Harrison?”

“It might follow, in some kind of illogical female way, I suppose.”

“But, Sam,” she said with a pleading note in her voice. “You don’t even
know
any of these women!”

“Have you been over the list? Now who could it have been? Amparo, Elda, Bridget, Lolly, Tessy, Bonny. All quite suitable, I’m sure.”

“Don’t be such a vile pig, Sam. How could I know? For all I know it was Booty, on a sort of room service basis.”

“That was a foul thing to say, Louise. I suspect that Booty is a lady. More of a lady than most of the female guests. If you want to be assured that Booty is unattainable, check with your husband. She brushed him off.”

“That’s a damn lie!”

“Once again Louise, our gentle heroine, springs to the spirited defense of her utterly useless husband. It can get pretty tiresome, dear. Very monotonous. Maybe if you had some spunk you would have let me know you’re in love with me.”

She gasped and tried to sneer but her eyes filled with tears. She looked at me and her mouth trembled and she said, “I nearly was, Sam. I… very nearly was.”

And she ran for the house. A woman is not at her best running away from you in a tight bathing suit. I tried to feel something tender and special toward her. I couldn’t. I was too annoyed at being condemned without a trial. And disappointed at her crack about Booty. And a little distressed at a smallness of mind which let too much emotion overlap into a business deal. All I could think of was that she’d had a damn small breakfast. Three bites of toast, three sips of coffee. And she left her rubber cap, sun glasses, lotion and towel behind. I was sick of scenes and I was sick of slickness and maneuverings. And I was getting tired of the damn sunshine and the unspeakably glorious weather.

Bridget came out of the house and stopped and looked back in the direction where Louise had disappeared. She wore a light blue workshirt and she had her hands in the pockets of blue jean shorts. She came out to the table and looked at Louise’s breakfast. She sat down at my right and said, “What’s with her?”

“Off in what they call a huff.”

“By the way, good morning. You don’t seem marked up, ole Sam. I’ll betcha Warren isn’t pretty. I was standing there wringing my hands until my knuckles cracked, and every time you hit him I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.”

“Today I feel very elderly.”

“This is the first time we’ve been alone…” she paused and colored slightly “… since I made such a fool of myself. I expect I ought to feel all quivery and girlish and abject.”

“Go right ahead.”

“But I don’t.” She tilted her head to the side and seemed to study me. “I feel pretty darn comfortable with you. Almost as if you could understand, which I doubt.”

“Why do you doubt it?”

“I am not precisely a female who stops the town clock when she goes to market. And I flang myself at you. And, being male, you will think I did it because of your overpowering charm.”

“I think you did it because you felt lost and lonesome and helpless. I was a pair of arms to comfort you and a chest to cry on. And what it turned into wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

“But I got up and went to the door and closed it. I could just as easily have walked right on out and I darn near did.”

“Glad you didn’t.”

“I keep fighting that line of thought, brother. But so am I glad I didn’t. So there. Let’s drop the subject forever. And if that’s a gleam in your eye, kindly remove it. There are no return engagements in this conference. But before we drop the subject, let me tell you one teensy little thing that has been accomplished. Last night, for a while, I hung over Guy’s shoulder while he played poker. I was all full of giddy warmth and unrequited devotion. And suddenly things weren’t
quite
the same.”

“How?”

“I looked down and saw how carefully he’d arranged his poor hair so that it would cover the most of the bald spot and I wanted to pat his poor old bald head because it was kinda touching, and then I saw the place where he didn’t quite get all her lipstick off. It was in that orange shade she uses, and suddenly I didn’t want to pat his bald head any more. Nor did I want to bash it in with a club. But I hung around long enough to watch him stay on a pair of threes, and draw twice to an inside straight. I learned my poker from my daddy. Daddy could have cleaned poor Guy in one long session. So maybe a cure is beginning to take place, and maybe you have some part in it. And thanks. Now we drop the subject and we get onto Louise for a moment. Why did she flee by me, snuffling and blubbering?”

I told her. In detail. When I finished she put her hand on my wrist. “Oh, honestly, you poor guy! What a filthy break that was. There I go again, barging in on people and messing up their lives. Sam, I’m terribly sorry.”

“The damage is done. Poetic justice or something. This place is loaded with voyeurs.”

“What do you mean?”

I told her about Jack Buck, Lolly and Tessy Crown. She turned grayish under her tan and closed her eyes and said, “Gah!”

“That’s a good word.”

“Taking the top off Tessy’s skull would be like lifting a damp rock. I don’t condemn Lolly too much. She’s spoiled rotten. She’s a vicious bawdy little pushover. And you can’t blame Jack Buck for taking what’s available. But to have her own stepmother… I wish to hell you weren’t so good at describing things, Sam’l. That little scene is going to take a lot of forgetting. Look, honey, I’m going to have a little chat with Louise.”

“If you mean what I think you mean, no.”

“There’s no possible way you can stop me. Call it penance. I’ll bare my simple soul and my base instincts. I’ll tell her how it happened. My God, if it hadn’t happened after I started to chaw on your neck, you’d be considerably less than human, I suspect. Can you see yourself pushing me sternly away and giving me a lecture on self-restraint?”

“Hardly.”

“Sam’l, darling, you were a sitting duck and I blasted your little white feathers all over the landscape. I can make Louise see that, I know. We’ll have some girl talk.”

“I’d rather you wouldn’t.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it. What happened to Booty? I’m about to starve!”

“All right then. If I can’t stop you, I’ll do some high-level scheming along with everybody else. Try to get to her before she gets to Mike.”

She looked puzzled for a moment and then said, “Oh, I get it. She’s so hurt she wants to smash your little red wagon.”

“And her own too, possibly.”

“Seems a little bratty, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“So duty first. I can eat any time.”

When she was halfway across the lawn toward the house she turned and took one hand out of her pocket and waved at me.

At a little after nine-thirty the
Try Again
set off with Mike and Amparo, Tommy and Puss aboard. I had not seen Louise or Bridget again. I saw them when I was out on the dock. They were way along the sand beach in the sunshine, walking together, a tiny figure in yellow and a tiny figure in blue. It made me feel very odd. I selected tackle from the dock house and headed the other way, back toward the rocks.

Skylark was not there, but the minnows were. I took some gang hooks off a plug and rigged a way to snatch them. I pulled one minnow out in about every six tries, and too often he was mortally wounded. I got a couple of meager barracuda, and then a rather small yellowtail. I was about to throw him back and then decided to try him as bait. He was too big to cast, but he was most agreeable about swimming straight out. I let him go as far as he wanted to. After a little while there was a long hard steady pull. I set the hook. It wasn’t a barracuda. It didn’t jump. The line did not go out with any great speed, but it went out with a fearful regularity. I could have achieved the same effect by sinking the hook into the transom of a cabin cruiser moving at trolling speed. When I saw there was no stopping it or turning it, I tightened the drag until the line snapped. Fortunately it snapped out next to the leader.

A needle fish took the next minnow and when it leaped and skittered and threw minnow and hook, a good barracuda took the minnow in the air, a few inches above the water. Though not as big as Louise’s, it was a long fight. I beached him and released him, and as he was much fresher than Louise’s, he went on out very briskly.

It seemed enough for a time and I found a rock flat enough to sit on. The fishing had been good, but it was not like the day before. I had the ghost of Louise with me, a laughing Louise, talking to the great fish while Skylark and I watched her. And I had other ghosts. White paper ghosts in the drawer of a writing desk in Mike’s room.

I tried to push it all out of my mind and be a part of the empty rocky beach, and the sun and the sky and the water. From where I sat I could see no sign that man had ever existed on this planet. I knew that after I was dead a thousand years, these rocks would look the same. An imperceptible half millimeter of surface would be worn away. Ten billion conchs would have died in the sun on the rocks. The incredibly remote descendants of the barracuda we had caught would be swimming out there, stalking their game.

There was a tide pool near my feet. I looked down into it and saw the black sea urchins, saw two unhurried questing minnows a half inch long. I had tossed a dead minnow into that pool not a half hour ago. It was almost invisible, almost entirely covered with small brown snails who seemed to be trying to shoulder each other out of position.