Boys & Girls Together (102 page)

“Explain first.”

Walt gestured to his closed lips and shook his head.

“You know it drives me
right
up the walls when you do this.”

Walt nodded vigorously.

“All right, if I get you the key, will you talk?”

Walt continued to nod.

Tony got up, mimed finding a key on the floor, handed it to Walt.

Walt reached for a pad and paper and wrote, “That’s the wrong key” and handed it to Tony.

“The horrible thing is you really think you’re funny.” She got another key and handed it over.

“When-Billy-the-Kid-got-sick-in
-The-Outlaw
-Jane-Russell-got-in-bed-with-him-so-he’d-feel-better-faster-because-she-had-heart-and-compassion-not-like-some-people-I-might-mention!”

“
I don’t want to get in bed with you!
” She began to pace around the room.

“I’m very sick,” Walt said. “I’m not responsible for my actions.”

Tony sank into the chair and stared at the cracked ceiling.

“Now don’t say, ‘Maybe we’re seeing too much of each other, Walt.’ ”

“You have an amazing gift for anticipating me, you know that?”

“Just ’cause we’re fighting a little doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people fight a little.” He pushed his glasses up snug against the bridge of his nose with his left thumb. “I’m only kidding about the sack. I’m glad you’re a virgin; you know that.”

Tony shook her head. “You’re trying to make me ashamed of what I am and I don’t like it all that much.”

“The only thing I don’t like about your being a virgin is the word ‘virgin.’ It’s got to be one of the ten worst words in the language, along with ‘crotch’ and ‘pimple’ and ‘bowels.’ Please say you believe me.”

Tony nodded. “I do. And ‘belly.”

“And ‘urine specimen,’ ” Walt said.

“And ‘fungus.’ ”

And the phone rang. “Yeah,” Walt said. “Yeah. Hi ... Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sure. Great. ... All the way west on Eleventh. When you hit the Hudson, swim back half a block and you’re here. S’long.” He hung up. “Branch Scudder,” he said. “What do you know?”

“Who he?”

“You know; that guy I didn’t introduce you to that night, remember? The one I put the show on with back at Oberlin. To this day, so I’m told, we are fondly remembered.”

“What did he want?”

Walt shrugged. “Beats me. Branch claims to be like an off-Broadway producer; except what that is is probably wish fulfillment.” He looked at Tony. “Don’t say it.”

“Don’t say what?”

“That I claim to be a director but that’s wish fulfillment too.”

“I wasn’t going to say a thing like that. I would never—”

“Oh, come on, admit it; it was on the tip of your tongue. I don’t blame you. I say I’m in the theater but who’m I kidding? Every time I think of that show we did and how easy it was and how well it went and I think about now and the way things are going—” He pounded one fist suddenly into the other. “Goddam but I was a stupid bastard in those days. It’s so humiliating. It just is.”

“You are really paranoid if you think I would have said a thing like you said I was about to say.”

“Yeah-yeah-yeah, maybe I am,” Walt said, getting out of bed. He went to the bathroom and turned on the hot water and took off his pajama top.

“What are you shaving for? You hot for this guy or something? You don’t shave for me.”

Walt splashed some water on his face. “Maybe it’s business.”

Tony folded her arms. “I’m insulted.”

“Well, don’t be. Branch and me, we’ve got what you call a ‘New York Relationship.’ We never see each other, and when we do, what we talk about is how we never see each other, and then we never see each other again for a while.” He spread lather on his face and started shaving.

Tony stood up and stretched. “I shall disappear discreetly into the night.”

“Hang around.”

“You said it might be business.”

“Just don’t listen. If we handle it right, maybe he’ll taxi you back uptown.”

Tony sat back down. “Sold,” she said.

“I wonder what he wants,” Walt said. “It’s after nine o’clock. You’d think it could’ve waited till morning. Maybe it’s important, what do you think?” He continued to shave.

Tony watched him. “What a build,” she said.

Walt made a muscle, did a double-take, then started looking around for it. “I could’ve sworn it was here this morning.”

Tony smiled. “Boys like talking about girls’ bodies all the time, don’t they?”

“Some do. Frankly, I have never stooped to anything so common.” He finished shaving, splashed on some cold water, then some aftershave. “What the hell could old Jiggles want?” he muttered as he put on his pajama top and walked past Tony, back to the bed.

“That does it,” Tony said.

“Huh?”

“For the first time all night you look like a human being and you walk right by me without even—”

“Baby,” Walt said, and he grabbed for her, brought her into his arms, tried to kiss her.

“Don’t,” Tony said. “I can’t afford to catch your cold.”

Walt held her tight with one hand, tried unbuttoning her blouse with the other.

“Not that either,” Tony whispered. “Your friend’s coming, remember?”

Walt let her go. “What can I do?”

“You can’t kiss me on the mouth and you can’t take my clothes off.” She held out her arms to him. “Anything else is fine,” she whispered.

“I don’t know what’s left but it’s a deal,” Walt said, and he buried his head in her neck, then blew in her ear.

“You must shave more often,” Tony said. “You’re practically irresistible.”

“Damn that ‘practically,’ ” Walt said. His hands moved across her white blouse until they reached her breasts.

“Oh, Walt, God,” Tony whispered.

“Stay after he’s gone,” Walt said. Gently, he squeezed her breasts, started backing her toward the bed. “I’ll get rid of him fast.” Again he blew in her ear.

“What
is
that aftershave?”

“Aphrodisiac Number Six,” Walt whispered. “I love you.”

“Why do you only say that when we’re having physical contact?”

“Only a Sarah Lawrence girl could ask a question like that at a time like this.” He held her very tight, pressed her close.

“Answer me.”

“Lemme kiss you.”

“No; you’re sick.”

“I’m dying this way.” He lowered her to the bed, followed her down.

“You think I’m not?”

“Stay when he’s gone? Promise? I’ll have him out of here so fast—”

“No, business is business; it’s liable to be important. You said so.”

“You’re all that’s important, dammit, so please—”

“Don’t ask me—”

“I’ve gotta kiss you. I can’t just touch you and not kiss you—I can’t and survive,” and he reached for her face.

“No.” Tony sat up and took a deep breath. She ran her hands through her hair. “What must I look like? Oh God, why is he coming?” She hurried to the bathroom and shut the door.

Walt lay in bed, eyes closed, and mouthed the word “bitch” over and over.

When the buzzer sounded a few minutes later, Tony was sitting prettily in the overstuffed chair. Walt went to the door, opened it, buzzed back. “Jiggles,” he said then, stepping into the hallway.

“Egbert,” Branch said.

“Egbert?” from inside the room.

“Me and my big mouth,” Walt said, following Branch into the apartment. “Tony Last, this is Branch Scudder. Branch—Tony.”

Tony glanced at the top of his head. “Hi,” she said.

“How do you do,” Branch said, smiling.

Tony got up and walked over to the Lautrec poster. “I won’t hear a word,” she promised.

Branch smiled again, rubbed his bald head, turned to Walt. “Good to see you. We never see each other.”

“We never do.” Walt nodded. “We’ve gotta start.” He lay down in bed.

“Yes,” Branch agreed. “Are you sick?”

Walt shook his head. “Just one of these damn spring colds. What’s up?”

Branch handed him a mimeographed manuscript. “Read this, would you please?”

Walt glanced at the title. “
Madonna with Child
.”

“Will you read it?”

“Course I will, if you ask me to.”

Branch sat down on the bed. “Here are the facts,” he said, his voice very low. “The script is brilliant. The money is
all raised
. I need a director. If you like it, if you’re
genuinely enthusiastic
we’ll go right into production off-Broadway.”

“Into production?”

Branch nodded.

“You mean, if I like it, I can
do
it? The money’s all raised and everything’s set and like that?”

“If you’re
genuinely enthusiastic
, it’s yours.”

Walt lay back and closed his eyes. “You really think I’m the one to direct this? You think I can do it right and everything?”

“We were successful once; I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t be again.” He stood. “It’s going to
make
the off-Broadway season, Walt, I just know it. Take your time, read it, think about it, then call me.”

Walt nodded, started to get up.

“No-no, stay in bed. I’ll let myself out.” Branch turned toward the door.

“Walt tells me you’re from Oberlin too,” Tony said.

Branch looked at her and nodded.

“Are you another Greenwich Villager?”

“Oh no; I live up on West Seventy-second Street,” Branch said.

“I lived in the Village once but I passed that phase; I keep wishing Walt would reach it. You couldn’t drag me back here.”

“Where do you live now?” Branch asked.

“Sort of just across the park from you.”

Walt lay very still, watching them, but mostly her.

“Could I give you a lift or anything?” Branch asked.

“Gee, wouldn’t that be nice,” Tony said. “You’re sure it’s not inconvenient?”

“Fine,” Branch said.

“Well, I was going to leave anyway ...” She turned to Walt. “You sure you’re gonna be all right? I mean you won’t need me for anything more?” She looked back at Branch. “I’m sort of nursemaid for the night.”

Branch smiled at her.

So did Walt.

“I’ll stay if you like, Walt; if you need me, just say the word.”

“I’ll survive,” Walt told her. “Thanks, Branch.”

“My pleasure.”

Tony kissed Walt on the cheek. “Love me,” she whispered. Then she waved and skipped on out the door. “This is really awfully nice of you,” she said to Branch as they started outside.

Branch smiled at her.

“You’re looking at me a lot,” Tony said. “May I ask why?”

Branch flushed. “No reason. Because you’re pretty. I’m sorry.”

Tony laughed. “Listen; did I say I didn’t like it?”

Branch smiled at her. They walked on outside into the May night. Branch stopped and looked back at Walt’s building. Then he shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“What don’t you?”

“Oh, Walt’s living that way.”

“I don’t like it either. He’s promised me that as soon as he hits with something, he’ll move.”

“I don’t know,” Branch said. “Everybody’s got his own problems, but I’ll tell you, if my father owned the Kirkaby stores, I wouldn’t wait.”

“Now I don’t understand.”

“The stores. The discount houses.”

“Oh,” Tony said. “Those. Well ...” And she shrugged.

“I suppose I’ve never really understood Walt, though. Back in college, when we were doing that show ...” And he went on talking.

Tony found it very hard to pay attention.

When their taxi reached her building, she thanked Branch and hurried inside, waiting impatiently for the elevator, jabbing her thumb at the call button again and again. She rode up to her apartment in silence, unlocked the door, went to the bedroom, fell on the bed. She undressed lying flat, kicking her clothes to all sides. Then she went into the bathroom, turned on the tub, poured in a double portion of bubble bath. She went, to the kitchen, poured a double portion of Grand Marnier, went back to the bathroom, got in the tub. “Damn,” she said, scrambling out, running wet and naked to the magazine rack in the living room, grabbing
The Reporter
, putting it back, taking
Vogue
instead, dashing back into the tub, lying down, saying “Ahhhhh” half a dozen times unconvincingly. She snapped her fingers then, said “Ronnie Lewin” and dashed out of the tub again, clutching a towel around her, running to her bed phone, picking up the address book. “Lewin, Lewin, Lewin,” she said, turning pages. “Yes,” she said, spreading the book before her, starting to dial. “No!” she said when the number began to ring. She slammed the phone down. “
It doesn’t matter!
” Her voice was very loud in the quiet apartment. She looked down at the puddle on the floor, dropped the towel, dried the puddle by moving the towel with her feet, then picked it up between her toes, grabbed it, and carried it back into the bathroom. She sat down in the tub for the third time, opened
Vogue
, stared at a few of the models. “You’re not fooling me—you’re all boys in drag,” Tony said, and she pitched the magazine onto the floor.

Humming, she bathed and shaved her legs and played catch with the handfuls of bubbles, and then she undid the stopper with her toes and stood up, looked around and said “Moron,” because she had used the only towel to dry the puddle and that meant she had to run out naked again, this time to the linen closet, grabbing a fresh towel, commencing to rub her body. When she was dry, she walked to the telephone again, picked it up, checked Ronnie Lewin’s number just to make sure she had it right, said it out loud, “Yukon 8-5737” and hung up the phone. Tony trekked back to the bathroom singing, “Here she is, Miss America, here she is, your ideal ...” She put on a perfumed body lotion, covered it with talcum. Then she spread cleansing cream all over her face, took it off with a tissue, put on an astringent with a cotton ball, covered that with a night cream because her skin was getting dry, and set to work on her hair. She fumbled with curler after curler, finally getting them as right as she ever would, grabbed her fluffy blue night cap, spread it over the works and flicked out the bathroom light. She dialed for the correct time, got it, moved her alarm clock ahead two minutes, set the alarm for half past seven so she could reset it again for eight when half past seven came, pulled off her bedspread, folded it neatly, dropped it on the floor and fell into bed. She fluffed the pillow, put the cooler side up, lay gently down into it, adjusted the sheet over her and closed her eyes. She yawned and stretched and yawned again. Then she said “Who are you kidding?” and called Ronnie Lewin on the phone. “Ronnie ... ? Hi, it’s me. ... Me, silly—Tony Last. Hi. Here’s the thing, Ron. ... No, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow at the office, and I’ll tell you why if you just h-u-s-h—because I’m in an absolute
frenzy of rage
... You’re from St. Louis, aren’t you? ... I sort of remembered that. ... So
listen
, Ron ... Ron, you may
not
have my body—
lissssss-on
. I was out with some old bag couple from St. Louis tonight. ... Their names don’t really matter, Ron. ... Herman or Franklin something—I can’t remember hers at all—but what they did was what every hick from out of town does, they
knock
New York. ... Ron, if I could remember their names I wouldn’t tell you—what if you knew them or something, huh? ... So anyway, I got in this argument with this old-bag lady, who said everything about New York was stinko. ... I don’t know why I did it, Ron, I just did it, and she started with the stores—you know, I mean, New York’s
world famous
for its stores—and this fink lady from St. Louis kept saying Bergdorf’s stunk and ... of course
I
hate Macy’s, Ron—how everyone who’s ever shopped at Macy’s hates it—the point is I couldn’t back down and let this harpie think she was right. ... Ron, their names are of
absolutely no importance
will you just listen I
told
you I was in a
frenzy
... You needn’t apologize, Ron, just
fermez
the old
bouche
and we’ll get along fine. ... The reason I’m pausing is because I’m embarrassed, Ron, because we finally got into an argument, this harridan and yours truly, a real screamer, and I’m embarrassed to tell you what we argued about. Ready? Don’t laugh now.
Discount houses
. ... I mean it, we argued about discount houses—
me
defending Korvette’s, can you picture it? ... But she really got to me, gassing on about some store in St. Louis, Kirkahead’s, and ... What, Ron? ... Kirkaby’s? Well, same difference, who cares, the point is, she
swore
it was not only better than Korvette’s, but bigger too, and I said she was out of her trick head and I thought you being from St. Louis ... I mean, I just had to be proved right or I knew I’d never sleep tonight. ... It is a big chain? ... Really big, Ron? Well, what do you know; not as big as Korvette’s, though, right? In other words, Ron, what you’re saying is that there is a big chain of stores in St. Louis named Kirkaby’s but that it doesn’t compare in size to Korvette’s, so that in actuality this woman was full of it just like I thought. ... Thanks, Ron, it’s always nice to be proved right. ... I tell you, I feel like a real nut, calling you this way. ... You’re a good brownie, Ron, night-night.”