Джон Макдональд - All These Condemned

I nearly made a terrible booboo when a man came hurrying out. He was kind of foreign-looking and I thought he was one of the guests and then I remembered Wilma talking about the Mexican servants and I realized, just when I was about to stick my hand out and smile, that it was José. I would have been mortified to death if I’d done anything as terrible as that, shaking hands with a servant. It would be nice to have a little Mexican maid, to live in.

The servant told us to take the path around the house. He was very polite, even if he was sort of fierce-looking. We went by a big croquet place and around to a big terrace overlooking the lake. It was like a picture, really. You could see right away that Wilma knows how to live. Like she says, gracious living is an art, and you have to work at it all the time. There were two fast-looking boats tied up at the twin docks. I saw Judy Jonah down there and Gilman Hayes was near her. They were sun-bathing. I met Judy a couple of times in the city at Wilma’s apartment, but she’s sort of strange. I mean she isn’t like you would expect, being so famous. She even looks a little plain, somehow. The others were on the terrace. Wilma hurried right over to us. You could tell she was glad to see us. Glad to see me, anyway. She gave me a little hug, and explained that we were all friends here and it would be a sort of informal-type house party. I acted pleased, but honestly, I had been hoping there would be some other important people there I hadn’t met before.

I told her her house was lovely, and she took us back to our room. I bet that next to hers, it was the best room in the house. Like she says, it was gracious living. José was just putting the last of our suitcases on one of those rack things.

Then Wilma said José would bring us a drink and we could freshen up and then join the others. I ordered an extra-dry Martini, but Paul, he had to ask for that damn bourbon he likes. It doesn’t even sound like a drink with any class. Now, if it was Scotch on the rocks or a Scotch mist or something. No. Bourbon and water, bourbon and water. He hasn’t got any taste. He hasn’t got any sense of gracious living. He’s provincial.

Not only that, but after the drinks came he had to try to tell me not to get drunk and complain about the last party we went to. I know when I’m drunk and when I’m not drunk. He just doesn’t like to see anybody having any fun. He’s like a big schoolteacher. If he had his way, everybody would sit in a corner and he’d give lectures and mark papers.

I made the mistake of standing there drinking my drink and wearing just my bra and panties. And of course, he had to start leering at me in that way he has. I told him not to get messy. Honestly, he wants to get messy at the darnedest times. There’s never any buildup. He just looks at you and boom. Right then and there. He’s got about as much romance as a toad in the grass. I didn’t even wait for him to come out of our private bath. I went out and joined the others, and believe me it was a relief to be away from him for just a few minutes after spending the whole darn day with him. Wilma helped Randy start the music and it was lovely. Honestly, I just lay back on that couch thing and José brought me a fresh drink and I looked at the blue lake and heard the music and it was like being on a cruise or something. It was perfectly lovely. Nice people and nice civilized conversation and somebody to wait on you. Judy and Gilman Hayes came up from the dock and after a while that nice Wallace Dorn arrived. I wish Paul would dress like that and act like that. Wallace is so obviously a gentleman. Paul could be just anybody. He looks like a hundred other men on the street.

There we were, all friends, just drinking and talking and enjoying ourselves. I guess Paul would have tried to be a damp blanket if somebody had given him half a chance. But maybe he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and not try to spoil the party for the woman who, after all, is his boss, any way you want to look at it. Anybody could see that Wilma was having a good time. She positively sparkled. It made me feel warm and good just to look at her.

I was glad when finally it was time to eat. Everything had got sort of swarmy and when I stood up I didn’t think my legs were going to work just right. But the food was so spicy hot it made my eyes cry, and it was what I needed to make all those Martinis behave. After dinner I felt just wonderful. Floaty and half excited. I kept wishing Paul wasn’t around. I didn’t feel the least bit provincial.

Gil Hayes had changed into pale slacks and a white shirt. He had knotted the shirttails in the front, just above the edge of the trousers, and he left it unbuttoned. The white shirt made him look real tan, and wearing it that way made his shoulders look broader and his hips look slimmer. After dinner and after some brandy Gil Hayes asked me to dance. He’d found some South American records.

It’s funny about him. He’s a wonderful dancer. It’s maybe like it would be dancing with a big cat. He doesn’t talk at all, and he leads very strong, so it’s easy to follow him even when he’s doing very fancy things you’ve never done before. The lights were kind of dim in the big room. I knew we probably looked special the way we were dancing together. I hoped Paul would look at us once in a while. His dancing! I suppose it was just fine ’way back when he was in college, but it certainly is old-fashioned. About the only thing he doesn’t do is pump your arm up and down and count out loud.

It was real magic, dancing like that. The way he’d swoop and the little touches of him. It made me feel all prickly all over and like I couldn’t get breath enough, or get close enough to him. At first it was just exciting, making me feel awful sexy, but when it went on and on and on, it turned into like a kind of torture. It was like pain or something. When he danced me out onto the terrace, I felt almost the way you do when you’re about to faint. I wanted him to take me out of the light, out there in the darkness where there was grass. I wanted to scream at him. It would have been the quickest thing that ever happened. And then I knew that he was doing it on purpose. I knew he was torturing me. Because he kept doing things and then stopping. I didn’t want him to know how hard I was breathing, but I couldn’t stop it.

I sort of half saw when Paul and Judy went down onto the dock. And ’way in the back of my mind I was thinking how that was. He’d probably forced himself on her. And then he could go back to the city and go to one of those stupid lunches of his and say, real casual, that he had a nice chat with Judy Jonah that week end. I bet he would bore her ears right off her head. Because what could he talk about to her? When he tries to talk about something besides his job he gets into a lot of deep-sounding stuff about life and things and I don’t think he knows half the time what he’s trying to say. It’s a kind of showing off, because he happens to know big words. What would a person like him know about life? He’s in that office all day, and when he comes home he wants to sit like a stuffed dummy and read books. There isn’t any life in him or any fun.

When the records ended Gilman Hayes backed away from me and gave a kind of funny jerky bow and said, “Good night. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” I could have killed him dead right there where he stood. Leaving me in that condition. I said good night and I went right by him and went to my room. I almost forgot to say good night to Wilma.

I got in the room and I wanted to pace up and down like a tigress or something, and chew my nails right down to the hilt. Then I realized that Paul would be coming back to the room soon. I got ready for bed and ready for him quickly. He came in and, thank God, he didn’t want to chatter. When the light was out, I started pretending, even though Wilma has told me it’s a childish game. I pretended I was alone on a cruise and this was my stateroom. And I’d met a man during the day. He looked just like Gil Hayes except he was dark, and he had manners like that nice Wallace Dorn. And now we were together, and there was nothing provincial about either one of us.