James Chase - Get a Load of This

Jason put his foot on the running-board. “Maybe you’ve got somewhere else to go,” he said. “Maybe you’re married or something.”

The driver nodded. “Yeah, I’m married all right. I don’t see what that’s got to do with it.”

“Oh, it has. It makes all the difference. You see, I’ve got no one at the moment. I only got into New York a few hours ago. I’ve got a room about ten floors up, which seems to me completely isolated from any earthly contacts. I was told that the Gaucho Club was the place to find company, but I’m not at all sure that it looks quite what I want.”

The driver regarded him thoughtfully. “It depends on what you want, boss,” he said. “If you’re looking for someone to sleep with, I should say that you’ve come to the right spot.”

Jason shook his head. “I hadn’t that in mind at all,” he said, “although the suggestion is worth considering. I’ll go in, anyway. If I don’t like it, I can always come out again, can’t I?”

The driver engaged his gears. “It’s your evening,” he said, and set his cab in motion.

Inside the club, Jason found the lights were soft, coloured and concealed, and the carpets very thick and springy to the feet. A number of impressively dressed flunkeys stood about doing nothing in particular, obviously too magnificent to be approached. They merely directed him towards a very crowded lounge simply by indicating the direction with their eyes. Feeling extraordinarily unimportant, and wishing that he had someone to share this initial ordeal with him, he went into the lounge and looked around for the cloakroom.

The lounge, however, was much more human than the entrance. A girl, wearing an extremely short white frock, a pale blue frilly little apron affair, and a large blue bow in her hair, suddenly appeared from nowhere and took his hat. She gave him a check and then, seeing he was unusually good-looking, added quite a nice smile.

Jason said hurriedly: “Wait a moment. Don’t run away. Whatever you do, don’t put that hat where I can’t get it quickly. I may not stay. My nerves are fluttering right now. I suppose you’re used to this—this magnificence? You would be. Yeah, no doubt I could get use to it. But right now I’m shaken. Those guys down front certainly made me nervous. I don’t think it is a smart idea having those guys. I guess they turn away a lot of business.”

The girl looked at him closely, rejected the idea that he was drunk, and decided that he was just a little soft. “You don’t have to worry about them,” she said. “Most of our clients come here tight and they never notice them.”

Jason considered that. “To hell with that for an idea,” he said finally. “However, now I’m here, what do you advise?”

“If I were you,” she said seriously, “I would go to the bar and buy myself a lot of drink. Then I should go into the restaurant, get a table close to the band, buy myself a small but carefully selected supper and enjoy myself.”

Jason fingered his white tie. “You think it is necessary to break down my repressions with drink, do you?”

She giggled. “I think it will help an awful lot.”

“Very well, I’ll do exactly as you suggest. I’ll let you know how I get on. Thank you very much.” Jason smiled at her and walked into the bar.

Here again everything was remarkably tasteful and luxurious. The bar was very long and somewhat crowded. Jason climbed on to a high stool, carefully spread his dress tails, and sat down.

Next to him was a tall man, going grey at the temples, who was talking in a completely inaudible voice to a very young egg-yolk blonde, who appeared to be wearing nothing at all under an extremely tight-fitting bottle-green gown. The gown, in itself, was modest and smart. It was modest because it was high at the throat, long in the sleeve and reached to the floor in a very graceful sweep.

The tall man prevented Jason from seeing as much of the girl as he wished. By leaning forward, Jason could see her head and a little of her figure; by leaning back, he could just see her neat little behind, perched on the stool. He wished the tall man would go away.

The barman raised his eyebrows and Jason ordered Scotch-and-ginger. “Make it a triple Scotch,” he said, “it will save time.”

The barman looked at him sharply and then turned to his bottles.

The tall man stopped whispering to the egg-yolk blonde and glanced at Jason curiously.

Jason smiled at him. “Do you favour Listerine for infectious dandruff?” he asked pleasantly.

The tall man started. “Dandruff?” he repeated, rather stupidly.

“Sure, dandruff. I understand that the bottle-shaped bacillus known as Pityrosporum Ovale is now considered by leading authorities as the real trouble-maker.” Jason leant forward and removed an invisible hair from the tall man’s coat. “Maybe the subject doesn’t interest you. If that is the case, think no more about it.”

The tall man seemed quite dazed. He said, uneasily, “Please excuse me.” Then he whispered to the egg-yolk blonde, who leant forward and gave Jason a searching look.

Jason smiled at her. “How do you do?” he said. “They tell me that race-horses are to wear straw hats this summer. Absurd, I think, don’t you?”

The tall man and the egg-yolk blonde left the bar. Jason watched them go rather sadly. He said to the barman: “I don’t think I made a big hit with those two, do you?”

The barman put a large glass down before him and splashed in the ginger ale. “It ain’t true about the straw hats, is it, mister?” he asked.

Jason shook his head. “I don’t think so. I thought the little girl might find that amusing.” He lifted the glass and swallowed the Scotch. He then handed the empty glass to the barman. “Fill it up,” he said. “I shall continue this performance until I feel I have enough to see me through what appears, at present, to be an exceedingly sticky evening.”

The barman put the bottle at Jason’s elbow. “Suppose you help yourself?” he said.

Jason thanked him. “Would it be against the rules if you joined me?” he asked.

The barman shook his head. “I gave up drinking three years ago,” he said.

“How extraordinary. You must tell me about it one of these days.” Jason filled his glass. “Before you go away I should like your opinion.” He leant forward. “The blonde that went out just now. Did she seem to you a trifle undressed under her gown?”

The barman’s eyebrows lifted. “I really didn’t notice, sir,” he said stiffly.

Jason nodded understandingly. “I suppose you gave that up also, three years ago,” he said. “It is really quite astonishing to meet such an iron will. I must congratulate you.”

The barman said, “You’ll excuse me, sir,” and went away down to the far end of the bar.

After several more drinks Jason felt it was time to go into the restaurant. He climbed off the stool, paid his check and went through a glass door into another large room where suppers were being served. A small dance-band played in the far corner of the room, and several couples were dancing on a pocket-handkerchief-size floor.

The head waiter took him to a table set for two near the band. He sat down. “This is my first visit here,” he confided to the waiter. “Is it possible for a lady to join me? Do you do that sort of thing here?”

The waiter said rather stiffly, “I’m afraid not, sir.”

Jason sighed. “I just asked. Some places do, you know.”

The waiter dismissed the subject with a flick of his napkin. “What would you like?”

Jason ordered supper without enthusiasm. He felt the evening was going to be a complete flop.

While he waited for his first course he looked round the room with a speculative eye. There were a number of smartly dressed women who appealed to him, but in every case they were all attached to large parties. He noticed that at the table next to him a girl sat with her back to him, and opposite her was a young man who looked as though he were permanently drunk. He was talking to the girl in penetrating tones. Jason listened with interest.