The Erection Set (11 page)

“It's the interesting-item side, dear boy. My readers eat it up. We have an extremely provocative and eligible bachelor in our midst, so naturally I'm curious.” She looked at me, still smiling. “You haven't answered my question, Mr. Kelly.”

“I haven't given it any thought, either.”

“No lonely heart waiting for your return?”

“Can't remember any. Most people were glad to see me go.”

Walt waved a miniskirted waitress over with the drink tray, and when we picked up our glasses said, “Don't let all that Barrin Industries background fool you, Mona. Dog here was born a hundred years too late. There aren't many places for a real live charger anymore. He was glad to be booted out.”

“And who is getting the boot?” a quiet voice asked.

We all turned and nodded at the weathered face of the heavy-set man behind us. “Mona, Walt ...” he said.

“Dick Lagen, Dog Kelly. I don't think you've met.”

I held out my hand and he took it politely for a second. “I'm a regular reader of yours, Mr. Lagen.”

“Ah, at last someone interested in news with an international flavor.”

“That's more than he said of my literary gems,” Mona told him.

Lagen smiled and ran a forefinger across his hairline moustache. “Mona, dear, we are hardly competitors. It is he with a bent for finance that is interested in the news I report. Is that not true, Mr. Kelly?”

There was an odd note to his tone and his eyes were watching me carefully. “Pursuit of the buck is a necessary evil. I'm always glad to break even,” I said.

“I understand you've come back to claim an inheritance.”

I let out a laugh. “Ten big G's. How did you know about that?”

Dick Lagen tasted his drink, made a satisfied pat at his mouth and said, “My earliest researches were made during the height of the Barrin regime. You'd be surprised how much I know about your family fortunes.”

“Well, as long as I get my ten grand, I'm happy. I never was much of a family man.”

“So I understand. However, ten thousand dollars isn't much of a nest egg these days. Plan to invest it?”

“Hell, no,” I told him. “I plan to blow it. Money is no good unless you convert it into something useful or pleasurable, anyway.”

“That's a rich man's attitude, Mr. Kelly.” That odd note was back in his voice again.

“You'd be surprised how rich a guy with ten grand can be.” I grinned at him and he smiled back.

“By the way, Mr. Kelly. Your name is Dogeron ... D-O-G-E-R-O-N,” he spelled it, “isn't it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Unusual.”

“Old-fashioned. Not many of us left.”

“True. I've heard it mentioned several times however. Istanbul, Paris ... you have been there, haven't you?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Could it possibly be that it was the same Dogeron?”

Mona gave us both a quick, sharp glance. “Now see here, Dick, if you have something about my friend, don't go wasting it in your portentous columns ...”

I stopped her with a laugh. “If Mr. Lagen ran across me in those places you could use the items, Mona. I'm a grade-A student of those belly dances and cancan joints. You hit those places, Mr. Lagen, and it's a real good chance my name came up. I have a reputation of sorts too. You like the fleshpots?”

His hand touched the moustache again to cover up the flesh on his face. Mona laughed and pulled at his sleeve. “Why, Dick, you old roué, you. And here I thought you were always the proper one. Dog, dear, you're a darling. At last I have something to hold over his head.”

Lagen let out his suppressed laugh and made a faint grimace of embarrassment. “You have caught me red-handed, Mr Kelly. Now my secret is out. I'm a rather shy voyeur. My opportunities to indulge myself are rare and discreet.”

“Don't worry,” I told him, “your secret's safe. I've already threatened Mona with exposure on one account. I'll add this in.”

“Remarkable guest you have here, Walt,” Lagen said. “Not at all continental. Good to see you, Mr. Kelly.”

When he left, Walt said, “I hope you didn't pinch a nerve, buddy.”

Mona tossed her hair and chuckled. “Don't be silly. He was pleased as punch. And here we all thought he was stuffy. Dog ... what else do you do? You seem to have an odd insight into people.”

“Comes with age, lady. Besides, aren't all men supposed to be alike?”

“If they were, you wouldn't be with one of
my
age. As you told me, why don't you pick on somebody your own size? I see any number of covetous female eyes turned in this direction. Take him around, Walt. I'm anxious to see how he can deal with all those professional little things flaunting their wares. Ah, me, for the days of firm tits and thighs again.”

“Quit kidding, Mona,” I said. “Experience more than makes up for it.”

“Get him out of here before I attack him, Walt.”

When she walked off squealing at the two current TV stars, Walt said, “Some woman.”

“Yeah.”

“Just don't let her fool you. She'd blow the whistle on her own grandmother if there was any gossip in it. No social conscience. Same thing with Lagen. He considers himself the great crusader these days. Some senator tagged him the fiscal watchdog of unscrupulous industry and he's trying to live up to the name.”

“What's he doing at a bash like this?” I looked around the room. “They're hardly his type of people.”

“As you so ruthlessly uncovered, Dick's a girl watcher. He still gets a kick out of the show business crowd. You meet everyone?”

“Pretty much.”

“You got all the guys jumpy. They have their territory all staked out and now they're waiting to see which one is going to get his claim snaked out from under his nose.”

“Where's Lee?”

“Out at the bar lining up a couple of in-town celebrities to do guest shots on TV commercials. What's he so rattled about?”

“Beats me.”

“He acted like he was afraid to leave you alone. I thought you were the big brother type in the old days.”

I grinned at him. “Lee worries too much. He ought to get married.”

“Look who's talking,” Walt said. “Incidentally, who
are
you going to lay your paws on tonight. Even I'm interested. They're all available, you know. Well, almost all.”

“Oh?”

Walt inclined his head to the comer of the room where the blonde I had met on the way in was perched on the arm of a chair, talking to the pumpkin of a man who was one of the bigger paperback book publishers. “That one. Little iron pants. A sexual Molotov cocktail and nobody can get a match to her fuse.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Tiring is the word. Even the experts gave up on her. One was a psychiatrist and even he couldn't reach a conclusion. Right now she has Raul flipping his lid. Until he tangled with her he thought he was the epitome in conquering maleness.”

“I heard her take him down. Everything she tell him true?”

“Everything. I can vouch for it. She left me hanging on the ropes too. Come on over and say hello. Let's see what kind of impression you can make.”

“Let's not. She's a little young for this dog.”

“Consider it a change of pace.”

“Suit yourself.”

The pumpkin publisher acknowledged our introduction and left to chase down his newest acquisition who had come in like a summer storm surrounded by effete young men.

Walt said, “Sharon Cass, Dog Kelly. I'm making it formal.” He smiled in my direction. “Sharon objects to casual associations.”

Those big, brown eyes looked into mine with a twinkle and she held out her hand. “Walt's always running me down, Mr. Kelly.”

“Call me Dog. It's easier.”

“He tell you about my iron pants yet, Dog?”

“Why sure.”

“He's a real squealer. It's better when they find out for themselves.”

“Watch it,” Walt said. “One day somebody's going to carry a can opener.”

She took her hand away gently and tilted her head at me. “Someday.”

Sharon Cass was beautiful. She was different. The beauty was as much internal as physical, but the one inside her seemed to be carefully repressed. Her hair was a tinted blonde that shimmered in soft waves around her shoulders, accentuating the full maturity of a lithe, sensual body. The miniskirt over her crossed legs ended at midthigh, lush offerings shaped to perfection, unashamedly exposed. She was frank and direct, not coming at you like most women would, and I had to laugh at her. “Walt said you'd be a change of pace.”

“Not very flattering of him.”

“Why don't you guys talk,” Walt broke in. “I have to go play host.”

We watched him leave, then Sharon toasted us with her cocktail and said, “I think Walt deliberately sicced you on me, Dog.”

I looked at her, puzzled.

“Earlier I conned him out of five million dollars for a coproduction movie deal with Cable Howard Productions.”

“Just like that?”

“Like a lamb to the slaughter. My boss expected it to be a matter of intrigue, with the deal to be consummated in Walt's silken-sheeted bedchamber.” She let out a little-girl giggle. “Instead, he was very nice about it. Now I think he's avenging his actions.”

“What the hell kind of business are you in?” I asked her.

“Skin and celluloid. Cable Howard makes movies. Good ones, bad ones, but all money-makers. Walt knows he'll double his investment.”

“And you have to put out to con in the investors?”

“It's not a new game, Dog. Anyway, I play it by my own rules.”

“Damn!”

“Don't tell me you're a moralist,” she said softly.

“I don't buy into anything under those conditions.”

“And how do you buy in?”

Her expression was one of open curiosity.

I felt my teeth showing in a tight grimace. “Forget it. Maybe I
am
a moralist. I have my own rules too.”

“Will they work?”

“What?”

“I understand you're one of the Barrins.”

“Word sure does get around,” I said.

“Secrets don't last long in this place,” Sharon told me. “By tomorrow you'll be exaggerated into a mythical European multimillionaire financier come to capture Barrin Industries for yourself. The stock market will reel under the impact of the news.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Why, Mr. Kelly.”

“I have ten grand coming, that's all.”

“So Lee mentioned, but it's more fun making it millions. When do you collect?”

“I won't. They'll beat me out of it. My maternal grandfather left that money subject to certain conditions that make it almost impossible.”

“I like that word ‘almost,' ” she said. “Can you make it?”

“Nothing much else to do.”

“Your smile is too gruesome, Dog. What's up your sleeve?”

“A long arm that would like to carry you out of here.”

She put her glass down and stood up. The top of her head came up to my mouth and when she tilted her face up her eyes were shining and her lips were wet.

“All you have to do is ask,” she said.

“I'm asking.”

“Then let's go.”

 

The rain had turned her into a spring blooming flower, dewy with glistening droplets of moisture. She wore no hat and let her hair tangle in the wind, not caring when she sloshed through puddles at the curb. She laughed at the night, her arm linked into mine, and the few people who passed huddling under umbrellas looked at us strangely and smiled.

We ate in an offbeat Italian restaurant, walked another six blocks to a bar where the only occupant was a bored bartender, but we ordered our drinks, excluded him politely to go back to his television and sat at the end, watching the city bathe.

“It's fun, Dog. I haven't done it in a long time.”

“Tell me about it tomorrow when you have pneumonia,” I said.

“Will there be tomorrow?”

“Sure. You're giving me a sense of responsibility.”

“Like taking in a stray bird?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, I'll call you. Full of health and vigor and youth ...” She stopped and the humor left her face. ”I ... didn't mean it that way .. ”

“Kitten,” I reminded her, “I ain't no stripling. I look in the mirror every day when I shave. The gray is there and the lines are beginning to show. It happens to everybody.”

“I like you that way.”

“Good, since I don't have a choice. Besides, kicking around with you is a little rejuvenating. It brings me back to the old days.”

“Mondo Beach?”

The glass stopped halfway to my mouth. “How'd you know about that?”

Her eyes danced a little bit. “Because I'm originally from the same neck of the woods as you. About six miles away. When I was little we used to go to the north end of the strip ... the part the Barrins didn't have fenced off for their estate. Sometimes we'd swim around the jetty and picnic on their property, pretending we were rich.”

“How about that.”

“Did you ever go there, Dog?”

“A few times. I was pretty much of a loner.”

“Tell you something else,” Sharon added. “My father worked for Barrin Industries ... oh, about fifteen years. I was even inside the big house once when Dad had to deliver some reports from the factory.”