Lawrence Sanders - McNally's risk

"I did," she said. "Archy, I think you and I enjoy the same things. Don't you agree?"

"Oh yes!" I said. "Yes, yes, yes!" And she laughed.

Jolly Pandemonium was the leitmotiv of the Pelican Club that night. It was at its noisiest and smokiest. Dart players were darting, table-hoppers were hopping, and everyone was guzzling happily and laughing up a typhoon.

"Uh-huh," Theo said, glancing around, "I belong here. Is Chauncey a member?"

" 'Fraid not."

"Didn't think so," she said with a wry-crisp smile. "Not his scene. He's such a fuddy-duddy. I mean he still reads newspapers. Can you believe it?"

I made no comment but led her into the dining area. Lights were dimmed, dinner was no longer being served, but there were a few couples lingering, holding hands across tables and looking into each other's eyes for promise. I claimed my favorite corner spot, and we were no sooner seated than Priscilla came sauntering over.

"You know the reputation of this man?" she asked Theo.

Madam X actually giggled. "I can imagine," she said.

"No, you can't," Pris said. "Whenever there's a full moon he gets long hair on the backs of his hands."

"Love it," Theo said, tilted her head back and bayed a long "Wooooo!" at the ceiling.

"Just what I need," Priscilla said. "A couple of loonies."

"Enough of your sass," I said. "We may be loonies but we're thirsty loonies. Theo?"

"Wine," she said promptly.

"Pinot Grigio?"

"Just right."

"A bottle, please," I said to Pris. "And try not to crumble the cork."

"Keep it up, buster," she said, "and I'll crumble your cork."

She strolled into the bar area, and Theo laughed. "You've known her a long time, Archy?"

"Years. Her family runs the place. Brother Leroy is our chef. Daddy Simon is bartender-manager. And her mom Jasmine is our housekeeper and den-mother. The Pettibones made the Pelican Club a winner. We were going down the drain before they took over."

"I hope you'll ask me here again."

I didn't quite know how to reply to that, but I was saved by Priscilla serving our wine. Chilled just right and with a slight flowery aroma.

Theo sipped. "Loverly," she said. "Thank you for coming to my rescue. I was in the doldrums."

"I've visited the doldrums," I said. "Miserable place. It's near the pits, isn't it?"

"Too near," she said, not smiling.

We drank our wine slowly, comfortable with each other. What a selfish delight it was to be in the company of such a beautiful woman. I tried not to stare at her but it was difficult to resist. "Feasting your eyes" is the cliche, and mine were famished.

"I know so little about you," I mentioned casually, trying not to sound like a Nosy Parker. "Tell me."

"Not a lot to tell," she said just as casually. "Besides, I hate to look back, don't you? The past is such a drag. The future is much more exciting."

She had neatly finessed me, and I feared that if I asked specific questions she'd think me a goof.

"All right," I said, "let's talk about your future. Have you decided to become Chauncey's one-and-only?"

She gave me a mocking half-smile. "Let's talk about it later," she said. "Right now I'm with you."

"For which I give thanks to Aphrodite," I said. "A.k.a. Venus. The goddess of love and beauty."

"It's skin-deep," she said.

"Beauty?" I asked. "Or love?"

"Both."

That seemed to me a rather harsh judgment, but I had no desire to argue.

"And what about your lady?" she asked me.

"We have an open relationship. Tonight she's at a dinner-dance with another chap."

"And you're jealous?"

"Of course not."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" she said with a boomy laugh. "Tell me, Archy, what do you do when you're not real-estating."

"Eat, drink, smoke, swim in the ocean, play tennis, golf, and poker, watch polo, read trash, listen to pop singers, occasionally attend the theatre, opera, ballet, charity bashes, and private shindigs, buy clothes and trinkets, write to old friends, party with new friends, and sleep. I think that about covers it."

"Not quite," she said. "You didn't mention sex."

"I didn't want to offend your sensibilities."

"What makes you think I have any?" And before I could come up with a saucy rejoinder, she said, "You know what I'd like to do after we finish this bottle of wine?"

"Have another?"

"No," she said, "take a walk on the beach. Could we do that?"

"Of course," I said. "Sorry I can't provide a full moon to prove my hands don't grow hair. There's just a sliver."

"It'll be enough. Can I take off my sandals, roll up my pants, and wade in the surf?"

"Whatever turns you on."

She looked at me with a crooked smile. "I asked Chauncey the same thing earlier this evening. He said the water might be too cold, I might cut my bare feet on shells, and the Beach Patrol might pick us up for loitering."

"Well, yes," I said. "All those things could happen."

"But you don't care, do you, Archy?"

"Not much."

She reached across the table to clasp my hand. "I told you how alike we are," she said. "I wish you were the marrying kind."

"What kind is that?"

"Chauncey," she said, almost bitterly. "Let's finish this divine wine and go."

And so we did. When I signed the tab, Priscilla looked about to make sure Theo was out of earshot and then whispered, "You're asking for trouble, son."

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded.

"I just know," she said and moved swiftly away.

I drove back to the shore and parked the Buick in the McNally driveway. Hand in hand, Theo and I trotted across Ocean Boulevard and stepped down the rickety wooden stairway to the sea. That splinter of moon was obscured by clouds, and an easterly breeze was warm and clammy. We didn't care. It was the wine, I suppose, and the joy of being alone on the beach at midnight.

Theo kicked off her sandals, rolled the cuffs of her pantaloons above her knees, and strode into the milky surf, kicking her way through. I stood on dry land, bemused, and watched her cavort. She seemed suddenly released, laughing, bending to scrub her face with cupped handfuls of saltwater. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised if she stripped starkers and plunged in. But she didn't.

I walked back to the wall, sat on the sand, lighted a cigarette. I had finished it before she came gamboling out, flicking glittery droplets from her fingertips and caroling, "Super, super, super!" She plumped down beside me and asked for my handkerchief to dry sodden strands of her chestnut hair. There wasn't much moonglow, but I could see her face was shining.

"Was that what you wanted?" I asked.

"It was what I needed," she said, and then gestured toward the dark, rolling sea. "What's out there, Archy?"

"Water. Lots of it."

"No, I mean eventually."

"Eventually? Africa. Around Morocco, I'd guess."

"Let's go."

"Tonight?"

"Whenever."

Her voice was light but I felt she was serious. Certainly half-serious.

She turned, took my face between her cool palms, kissed me, drew away. She leaned forward, hugged her knees. "Do I scare you?" she said.

"Of course not," I lied valiantly, because to tell you the truth she did. A little. There was a wildness in her, a willfulness that was daunting.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked suddenly.

"More than pretty," I said. "Lovely. Beautiful."

"Yes," she said, nodding, "I know. And I thought it would bring me happiness but it hasn't. Like an actress who knows, just knows she has a special talent. But she can't get an acting job so it doesn't do her a damned bit of good. Just goes to waste. Do you understand what I'm saying, Archy?"

"Yes."

"I've got the looks and the body," she went on. "It's not conceit; I just know. But things didn't work out the way I thought they would. Bad luck, I guess."