The Inheritors (35 page)

She walked ahead of me into the apartment. Her eyes went everywhere at once. I stood there watching her. “What do you think?”

She turned to me. “I like it. It’s all male and leathery.”

“What do you drink?” I asked, leading the way to the bar.

“What are you drinking?”

“Scotch.”

“I’ll take the same,” she said. “It makes life simpler.”

I poured her drink and splashed some more into mine.

She held the glass toward me. “Bang, bang,” she said.

We drank. She saw Fogarty’s glass on the bar with the faint touch of lipstick on the rim. “I’m early,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No interruption. My secretary came over to give me my messages.”

“Oh,” she said.

I took the papers from the bar and put them on the desk near the window. She followed me across the room and looked out. The snow was falling.

“It’s lovely from up here,” she said.

I looked out the window. “Yes.” I had almost forgotten how lovely it could be. I turned back to her. “You make yourself comfortable,” I said. “I want to grab a shower. I’m still sticky from the trip.”

“Okay.” She wandered back to the bar while I went into the bedroom.

I got out of my clothes and left them on the bed. I got into the shower stall and turned on the hot water. The heat eased the pressure, the roar of the water soothed the nerves.

I don’t know how long I stood there when I heard her calling. “Yes?” I shouted back over the water.

“The phone’s ringing. Should I answer it?”

“Please,” I yelled.

A moment later the bathroom door opened. “It’s from the coast. Jack Savitt,” she said.

I cut the water and opened the shower door. “Give me the phone from the wall.”

She came into the bathroom and stood, hesitating.

“Right there,” I said, pointing.

She looked at me doubtfully. “Is it safe?” she asked. “I heard—”

I laughed. “It’s safe.”

She gave me the phone gingerly. I took it. “Jack,” I said.

“Who’s the girl?” he asked. “She’s got a great sound.”

“You don’t know her,” I said. “What did you find out?”

“Pretty much what we figured. He got into a big hole and the banks turned on the heat. They’re getting ready to step in and take over. He put Dan Ritchie on last week to unload everything he could to television for the quick and ready.”

“How does it tie in to the move on us?”

“Ritchie still has friends in the home office. You have twenty-six specials scheduled. That’s twenty-six features that can be shown if he can knock you off.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Not right now. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

I reached around the shower door and gave the phone back to her. I heard the click as she put it back on the wall. I closed the door and turned the water on again.

Through the opaque glass I could see her standing there, the purple of her dress making an odd design. She didn’t move.

“Anything wrong?” I called.

“No,” she said. “I’m just looking.”

“Looking?”

“At you,” she said. “It’s a wild sight through that glass. It’s like you’re all over the place. Crazy effect.”

I turned off the water. “Better give me a towel,” I said. “Before you do something rash.”

“I already did,” she said. “Twice. Once when I gave you the phone and just now while I was watching.”

“Give me the towel anyway,” I said. “And stop wasting it. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

I stepped out into the towel and wrapped it around me. I pulled another towel from the rack and began to dry myself.

“I’ll get your back,” she volunteered.

I threw her the towel. Her hands were quick and sure. “You’re not Japanese?” I asked.

“Do I rook Japanese?” she laughed.

The bathroom door opened and Angel stood there. A grin split his face. “How cozy. I see you’ve already met.”

“Fix yourself a drink,” I said. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Okay,” he said and disappeared.

I took the towel from her hand. “You too.”

She made a face. “And I thought I would help dress you.”

I laughed and pushed her toward the door. “Go ahead, Darling Girl. I’m a big boy now. I can dress myself.”

They were draped around the bar when I came out. I said hello to Angel’s girl and fixed myself a drink. “Any of you kids had dinner?” I asked.

Angel shook his head. “No.”

I looked at the girls. “Where would you like to eat?”

“Anything wrong with the room service here?” Darling Girl asked.

“No,” I answered.

“Then why fight the snow? When we can be all comfy and cozy here,” she said. “We can stay in, turn on, and ball.”

Angel began to laugh. “What did I tell you, boss? Isn’t she too much?”

I stared at her while I picked up the phone. “Maybe,” I said. I saw the flush creeping into her face and the operator came on. “Give me room service,” I said.

The steaks weren’t too bad and once when Angel started to talk shop, I stopped him. “Tomorrow. Time enough.”

The waiter took out the table and for a moment there was a silence. Then Angel got to his feet. “Come on, Faith, baby. Time for us to go.”

I made no move to stop them. After they were gone, she still sat there. We stared at each other for a long time. “What are you thinking?” she finally asked.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why are you coming on so strong?”

She smiled. “Maybe I like you.”

“Again. Why?”

“It’s a long story.” She got to her feet and walked toward the bedroom. “Someday I’ll tell you.”

CHAPTER THREE

I sat there at the bar drinking Scotch. Everything seemed down for me. I just didn’t want the effort. It could have been a half hour before she came back.

“Hey,” she called from the doorway. “You goin’ to sit up all night drinking?”

I turned to look at her. The only thing she had on was her boots. I stared at her. She had painted her nipples purple to match her costume.

She smiled. “Like it?”

“It’s different.”

“I have some smack,” she said. “I rubbed it on my nipples. It makes them tingle.” She came into the room and put a cigarette in her mouth. “Give me a light,” she said, leaning toward me.

I held the match for her. The acrid odor of pot filled the room quickly. “Want a drag?” she asked.

Silently I took the joint from her. I pulled the smoke into my lungs. I felt nothing. Nothing was working.

She took the reefer back from me. “Man, you’re way down.”

I didn’t answer.

“Do you want I should go?” she asked.

I took a long time making up my mind. “No.”

She dragged on the reefer. Her eyes were beginning to darken. “You goin’ to look at me all night?” She was beginning to slur her words.

“Maybe,” I said.

She nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” She crossed the room and put on the record player. “You won’t object if I have some fun?”

I smiled. “Be happy.”

She began to sway in time to the music. She dragged again and passed the reefer to me. I sat there on the bar stool watching her dance. She moved around the room, turning off the lamps until there was only a faint light coming from behind the bar. She cut into the bedroom and I put the reefer in my mouth and dragged on it.

She was back in a moment, holding something in her hand. I couldn’t see it in the dim light. She moved toward me. “I’d like you to meet my true love,” she said.

I looked down at her outstretched hand. The slim pink vibrator shone faintly. She turned the base handle and it began to hum.

“Steve, meet Steve,” she said.

I looked at her. She was completely serious. “We really met when I was fourteen,” she said. “And he’s been with me ever since.” She pressed it to her cheek, then down the side of her neck and around to her breasts. She reached for the roach with her free hand.

I gave it to her. She dragged once, then gave it back to me. Her eyes were swimming now.

I put the roach out in a tray and refilled my glass. I watched her in the shaded mirror behind the bar.

She was moving with the music, her eyes half shut, passing the vibrator down across her stomach. She stopped suddenly and pressed it into the neatly trimmed, dark pubic patch.

Suddenly she opened her eyes wide and stared at me. Her legs began to tremble. “Steve!” she cried out and sank to her knees, the vibrator falling from her hands to the carpet where it lay humming obscenely.

After a moment, she picked it up and turned it off. She looked up at me, a faint smile coming to her lips. “That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a wild orgasm,” she said.

“I wouldn’t know.”

She got to her feet. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

I turned back to the bar. The room was a strange mixture of odors. Female, pot, whiskey. I picked up my drink.

“Fix me one,” she said from the doorway. I turned to look at her. She was completely dressed. I threw some ice into a glass and poured the whiskey over it.

She took it from my hand. “Bang, bang,” she said. She swallowed the drink in one gulp and walked toward the door. She picked up her fur coat from the chair and wrapped it around her. She stood there looking back at me. “Good night,” she said.

“Good night,” I said.

The door closed behind her and a few minutes passed while I sat there with the drink in my hand. Then the house phone rang. I picked it up.

She was calling from downstairs. “I forgot to tell you something.”

“What is it, Darling Girl?”

“I love you,” she said and hung up.

***

The dreams socked in that night. It happened every time I returned to the apartment. Barbara was there. Maybe Sam was right. I should have moved.

But I hadn’t and there she was. We were that close and then—nothing. She was gone and would never come back.

I rolled over on the bed and pushed the dreams away. No more. I let myself open wide once and blew it. I was not about to make the same mistake again.

It was better the way it was. No ties. No hangups. Everything cool. You came and went as you pleased. No guilt feelings because you had something else to do or something else on your mind.

But still I remembered the way it was when we began to make it. Beautiful. Like nothing I had ever known before or since. But, after that, the pain. Only the pain.

No more. I pushed at the dream and tried to sleep. Then the dream went all crazy and Darling Girl was dancing again. Only this time she wore Barbara’s face and kept smiling at me with Barbara’s smile.

The slow teasing smile she had when she was putting me on. I reached for her and Barbara vanished. I sat up in bed, looking into the dark.

The room was silent and empty. After a moment I got out of bed and took a sleeper. That did it. I went out like a light.

***

I woke up to the music of the telephone. I was still logy when I answered it.

It was Angel calling from the lobby. “I kept ringing your bell,” he said. “I finally went downstairs and called.”

“Come on up,” I said. I pressed down the bar and released it. The operator came on and I ordered breakfast. Then I staggered into the bathroom and threw some water on my face.

Angel was bugged with curiosity, but he didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t volunteer any information. I swallowed some coffee and we got on the trolley.

He moved fast. He had all the ratings, all the costs, and all the answers. He was bright, tough, and ambitious, and not about to let this one get away from him. Not while Sinclair was watching.

The pattern began to come clear as I listened to Angel. As smart as he thought he was, he lived on the surface. Underneath, Sinclair was already churning up the waters. All Angel could see was that the old man had called on him.

The arithmetic was simple. The specials blew two nights a month for us. At first there had been a great deal of enthusiasm on everyone’s part, even the sponsors. At last something was being done that they could be proud to be a part of. Then the ratings came in.

Pride went before ratings. Down. They translated them immediately into sales response and were beginning to have second thoughts and were looking for a graceful way out. Up came the same old reasons. Blame it on the public. After all, it was they who switched channels.

Sinclair knew of my commitment to the project and this was his way of telling me that he was unhappy. He made the opening move. Angel was just a piece on the chessboard.

But the old man was losing his touch. King’s knight pawn to four was a bad opening for him. He was about to lose Angel.

“Good work,” I said. “I like the way you’re thinking and your approach is sound.”

“Thanks, Steve,” said Angel, creaming visibly.

I sat and thought for a moment. “Got a good backup man in Daytime?”

“Pete Reiser,” he said. “I had him on game shows, but I think he’s ready.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m moving you to Special Programming. That’s one flight up and fifteen grand more a year. I’m going to let you handle the whole thing. I have every confidence that you’ll straighten it out.”

He stared. “You won’t regret it, Steve. I’ll work my ass off.”

“I know you will. But you’ll still have to keep an eye on Reiser until we’re sure he can do the job.”

“No sweat, Steve. I understand.”

“I think you better get out to the coast and grab a firsthand look at the rest of the shows. I want to get your comments.”

“I’ll be on the plane tonight.” He got to his feet. “By the way, I have the report ready for Sinclair. What shall I do with it?”

“Send it to him, of course.”

“There’ll be a copy for you as soon as my girl finishes typing it.”

“Thank you.”

I waited until he had left the apartment before I picked up the telephone. I didn’t even have to check to find out the report had already gone to Sinclair. I would get it when he figured a safe enough time had elapsed. I woke Jack Savitt up at home.

“Angel Perez is coming out there,” I said. “Bury him.”

“He’ll get the ‘A’ treatment,” Jack said.

“When you complete those arrangements, you get on a plane and come in here.”