The Deer Park (11 page)

“Well, that’s good.” Teppis coughed. “Now, why don’t you leave those dogs out of your mind for a couple of weeks, and you take a good vacation. You relax. You have a good time with Collie.”

“I can’t leave them for two weeks,” she said with something like panic. “Salty litters in the next ten days, and we have to start training Blitzen and Nod for the trials.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Teppis said vaguely. “Now, there’s a fellow I got to see, so I’ll leave you in the company of this young man. You’ll enjoy talking to him. And Lottie, you remember,” he said, “there’s more important things than those dogs.”

I watched him walk away, nodding his head to the people who swarmed to greet him, carrying them one at a time like parasite fish. One couple even moved off the dance floor and came hurrying toward him.

“Do you like dogs?” Lottie Munshin asked me. She gave a short rough laugh for punctuation, and looked at me with her head cocked to one side.

I made the mistake of saying, “You breed them, don’t you?”

She replied; she replied at length; she insisted on going into details which led into other details, she was a fanatic, and I stood listening to her, trying to find the little girl who had grown into this woman. “Collie and I have the best ranch within the county limits of the capital,” she said in that pinched voice, “although of course keeping it up devolves upon me. It’s quite a concern, I can tell you. I’m up at six every morning.”

“You keep an early schedule,” I offered.

“Early to bed. I like to be up with the sun. With such hours everybody could keep themselves in fine condition. You’re young now, but you should take care of yourself. People should follow the same hours animals do, and they would have the natural health of an animal.”

Over her shoulder I could see the dance floor and the swimming pool, and I was pulled between my desire to quit her for people who were more interesting, and my reluctance to leave her alone. While she spoke, her bony fingers plucked at her chin. “I’ve got a green thumb,” she said. “It’s an unusual combination. I breed dogs and things grow under my thumb. Sometimes I think my father must have been meant to be a farmer because where else could it have developed in me?”

“Oh, look. There’s your husband,” I said with relief.

She called to him. He was some distance away, but at the sound of her voice he looked up with an exaggeration of surprise which betrayed he was not surprised at all, and came moving toward us. As he recognized me his expression changed for a moment, but all the same he shook my hand warmly. “Well, we meet again,” he said broadly.

“Carlyle, I meant to ask you,” Lottie Munshin went on in a worried voice, “are you going to try that favorite-food diet?”

“I’ll give it a look,” he said in a bored tone, and caught me by the arm. “Lottie, I have something to talk over with Sergius. You’ll excuse us.” And with no more than that he steered me under a yucca tree, and we stood in the harsh shadow made by a flood lamp above the fronds.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Once again I explained that I had been invited by Herman Teppis.

“Eitel, too?”

When I nodded, Munshin burst out, “I wouldn’t put it past Eitel to bring Elena here.” As he shook his head with indignation, I began to laugh.

“It’s a rotten party,” I said, “it needs some kicks.”

Munshin surprised me. A calculating expression came over his face and suddenly he looked like a very tough clown to me, a clown who in a quiet private way knew more than a few corners of the world. “It would be worth a lot of money to know what’s in H.T.’s head,” he muttered to himself, and walked away leaving me beside the yucca tree.

The party was becoming more active. People were going off by couples, or coming together at one center of interest or another. In a corner a game of charades was going on, the dance floor was nearly filled, a well-known comedian was performing for nothing, and an argument about a successful play almost killed the music of the rumba band. A drunk had managed to climb the boom which supported the papier-mâché camera, and he was quarreling with the cameraman who was trying to get him to go down. Nearby, his wife was laughing loudly. “Ronnie’s a flagpole sitter,” she kept announcing. The swimming instructor of the hotel was giving a diving exhibition in a roped-off portion of the pool, but only a few were watching her. I had a couple of drinks at the bar, and tried to work into one circle or another without success. Bored, I listened to a folk singer dressed like a leatherstocking, who sang old ballads in a quavery twang which could be heard above the dance orchestra. “Isn’t he talented?” a woman said nearby.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. A blond man whom I recognized as the tennis professional of the Yacht Club smiled at me. “Come on over,” he said, “somebody would like to meet you.” It turned out to be the movie star, Teddy Pope. He was a tall man with an open expression and dark-brown hair which fell in a cowlick over his forehead. When I came up with the tennis player, he grinned at me.

“Isn’t this party a dog?” Teddy Pope said.

We all smiled at one another. I could think of nothing to say. Beside Pope sat Marion Faye, looking small and bored. He only nodded at me.

“Do you know roulette?” the tennis player asked. “Teddy’s an
aficionado
.”

“I’ve been trying to get a system,” Teddy said. “I had a theory about the numbers. But mathematically it was too much for my low intelligence. I hired a statistician to try to figure it out.” He grinned at me again. “You a weight-lifter?” Teddy asked me.

“No. Should I be?”

This turned out to be very amusing. Pope and the tennis player and Marion Faye shared a long run of laughter. “I can bend an iron bar,” Teddy said to me. “That is, if it’s a slim enough iron bar. I just stay in weight-lifting to keep from getting fat. I’m getting so fat now.” He pinched his belly to give a demonstration and was able to show an excess of flesh no thicker than a pencil. “It’s disgusting.”

“You look in good shape,” I said uncomfortably.

“Oh, I’m pudgy,” Pope said.

“Weight-lifting ruined your forehand,” the tennis player said.

Teddy Pope made no answer. “I can see you’re a flier,” he said. “Is it true that most of you live for drinking and sex?” He leaned back and smiled at the sky. “Oh, there’s a beauty,” he said as a girl passed. “Would you like to meet her? Marion says you’re a little, shy.”

“I’ll make out.”

“Why don’t you help him, Teddy?” Marion jeered.

“I would just be a drag,” Pope said.

“Sit down, Sergei,” said the tennis player.

“No. Well, you see,” I said, “I promised to bring a drink to somebody.”

“Come back if you get bored,” Teddy said.

I was approached beneath another yucca tree by a little bald-headed man in a sky-blue tropical suit who had a tall redheaded girl by the hand. “Ah, there you are, I missed you before,” he said briskly. “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Bunny
Zarrow, you may have heard of me. Actor’s representative.” I must have looked at him with surprise, for he added, “I see you were talking to Mr. Teppis. May I ask what you were talking about?”

“He wanted my advice on a movie.”

“That’s interesting. That’s unusual. And what is your name?”

“John Yard,” I said.

“You’re under contract, I take it?”

“Of course.”

“Well, a contract can sometimes be bettered. I wish I could place your name. I will say this is neither the time nor the opportunity, but you and I must have lunch to discuss it. I’ll call you at the studio.” He pointed to the girl beside him. “I’d like you to meet Candy Ballou.” The girl yawned and then tried to smile. She was very drunk.

Bunny drew me aside. “Let me give you her phone number. She’s a charming outgoing girl.” He blinked his eyes. “I’m glad to do you a favor. If I weren’t so overworked, I would keep her number, but it’s a shame to keep such a girl to myself.” He returned me to Candy Ballou and placed our hands together. “Now, kiddies, I’m sure you two have a great deal in common,” he said, and left us looking at one another.

“Would you want to dance?” I asked the redheaded girl.

“Don’t panic, love-bucket.” She said this as if it were a password, and then opened her eyes to focus on me. “What studio you at?” she blurted.

“That’s just a joke, Candy,” I said.

“A joke on Zarrow, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“What do you do?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“No dough. I might have known.” She swayed her body to the rhythms of the rumba music and yawned fiercely. “Oh,
honey,” she said in a little broken voice, “if you had class, you’d help me to the ladies’ room.”

On my return from that errand with no more for company than a new highball, I saw Eitel come in at last. He was with a girl. Elena, I knew.

S
HE WAS A NEAR
-
BEAUTY
. Elena’s hair was a rich red-brown and her skin was warm. She walked with a sense of her body, and I had always been drawn to that in a girl since my first year in the Air Force when like every other fly at an enlisted man’s dance, I would cock my hat and try to steal prizes like Elena with my speed. Although she wore a lot of lipstick, and her high heels would have satisfied a show-girl, there was something delicate about her and very proud. She carried herself as if she were tall, and her strapless evening gown showed round handsome shoulders. Her face was not exactly soft, but it was heart-shaped, and above a tender mouth and chin, the nares of her long narrow nose suggested ample aptitude to me. Munshin’s description seemed passing poor.

Except that she was obviously not at ease. As I watched Eitel lead her into the mouth of the party she reminded me of an animal, ready for flight. Their appearance at the party had set off a ripple of confusion, and very few of the people who saw him knew what to do. There were several who smiled and even said hello, there were some who nodded, and even more who turned away, but I had the feeling they were all frightened. Until they knew the reason why Eitel had been
invited, they could only feel the panic that whatever they did could be a mistake. It was grim the way he and Elena were left to cross the floor of the party without catching anybody to accompany them, and I saw Eitel stop finally at an empty table near the pool, set out a chair for Elena, and then sit down himself. From a distance, I had to like the way he succeeded in looking bored.

I went up to their table. “Can I join you?” I said clumsily.

Eitel gave me a quick grateful smile. “Elena, you must meet Sergius, he’s the best person here.”

“Oh, shut up,” I told him, and turned to her. “I’m awfully sorry, I didn’t catch your last name,” I said.

“It’s Esposito,” Elena muttered, “an Italian name.” Her voice was just a little hoarse, and surprisingly deep, which made it considerably less useful to her than her face, but it was a voice which had muffled strength in it. I had heard accents like that since I was a kid.

“Doesn’t she look like a Modigliani?” Eitel said enthusiastically, and then added, “Elena, I know you’ve been told that more than once.”

“Yes,” Elena said, “that is, someone once told me. As a matter of fact it was your friend.”

Eitel passed over the reference to Munshin. “But where did you get those green eyes?” he teased her. From the angle where I sat, I could see his fingers tapping restlessly on his knee.

“Oh, that’s from my mother,” Elena said. “She’s half Polish. I guess I’m one-quarter Polish and three-quarters Italian. Oil and water.” We all worked a little to laugh, and Elena shifted uncomfortably. “What a funny subject,” she said.

Eitel made a play of studying the Laguna Room and said, “What do you think this party needs?”

“What?” I asked.

“A roller coaster.”

Elena burst into laughter. She had a nice laugh which
showed her white teeth, but she laughed too loudly. “Oh, that’s so funny,” she said.

“I love roller coasters,” Eitel went on. “It’s that first drop. Like the black hole of death. There’s nothing to compare with it.” And for the next two minutes he talked about roller coasters, until I could see by the look in Elena’s eyes how alive he made the subject seem. He was in good form, and to draw him out, Elena was a good listener. I found myself thinking that she was not stupid, and yet she would only answer with a laugh or some little remark. It was the style of her attention. Her face gave back the shadow of everything he said, until Eitel was carried away. “It proves an old idea of mine,” he said. “One gets on a roller coaster in order to feel certain emotions, and I wonder if it’s not the same with an affair. When I was younger, I used to think it was ugly, even unclean I suppose, that a man who thought he was in love would find himself using the same words with one girl after another. Yet there’s nothing wrong about it really. The only true faithfulness people have is toward emotions they’re trying to recapture.”

“I don’t know,” Elena said. “I think a man like that wouldn’t be feeling anything for the woman.”

“On the contrary. At that moment, he adores her.”

This confused her. “I mean,” she interrupted, “you know, it’s … oh, I’m not sure.” But she could not let it pass. “A man like that isn’t relating to the woman. He’s detached.”

Eitel looked pleased. “You’re right,” he reversed himself. “I suppose it’s the proof of how detached I am.”

“Oh, you can’t be,” she said.

“I certainly am,” he smiled, as though to flag an advance warning.

It must have been hard to believe. His eyes were bright, his body leaned toward her, and his dark hair looked charged with energy. “Don’t judge by appearances,” Eitel began, “why I can tell you …”

He broke off. Munshin was coming toward us. Elena’s face lost all expression, and Eitel began to smile in an unnatural way.

“I don’t know what it is you got,” Collie boomed, “but H.T. told me to come over and say hello. He wants to talk to you later.”

When none of us answered, Munshin contented himself with staring at Elena.

“Collie, how are you?” Eitel said finally.

“I’ve been better.” He nodded his head. “I’ve been a lot better,” he said, continuing to look at Elena.