Robert Wahl - Secretary_s tricks

And now he would never see her again. He opened his eyes and told himself he would have to accept the fact that Holly would have cost him his job and his marriage.

Then a strange feeling of loneliness surged over him and he felt cold and his stomach rolled over and over. And he ran into the bedroom for his coat and told himself he had to get out to a bar, and be with people and get something to drink and tomorrow somehow he could get up and knock off the Dennison thing.

Nick stared into the mirror at the red-tinged blue eyes and the lines beneath the eyes and the stubble of beard. He folded his right hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall and the pain soared up his arm.

Fool, he muttered to the puffy-faced image in the mirror, and turned away in disgust. His head throbbed and his stomach swirled about and he felt he might vomit at any moment.

He scraped his hand along the wall for support and dragged himself into the kitchen and took the container of tomato juice from the refrigerator. He poured the cold juice down and leaned against the refrigerator.

Then he went over and made a pot of coffee. He stared at the dancing blue flame of the burner on the stove, and thought of the dancing flames along Julie's naked body.

And he thought of her phone call just now, that had pulled him from a deep drunken sleep. And her thinly veiled demand that he visit her later in the day. Nick took two eggs and some bacon from the refrigerator and moved back to the stove and cursed Julie. Then he cursed himself and took a deep breath of the cooking coffee.

He looked down at the eggs and the greasy bacon and his stomach did a flip. He knew he would feel better if he ate, but the thought of eating was more than he could bear.

He took the coffee off the stove and poured a cup. And he thought immediately of Frances Dennison drinking gin from this cup last night. God, was it only last night, he asked himself and sat down at the table.

Only last night that Holly had left his apartment, only a matter of hours since she had left his life forever. He not only had no idea where to look for her, he had no idea of her last name.

What a fool, he muttered and poured sugar and milk into his steaming coffee. To think he had only worshipped her wild, hot body, and had not had the guts to realize he had fallen desperately in love with her.

He took a tentative sip of the scalding coffee, and told himself that now he had no reason to worry about Holly's messing up his future. Now he was left free to marry Julie and be subject to her every whim and to work and grovel for her father.

Nick had just managed to swallow some of the coffee and feel it warming his chilled body when the phone rang. He put the cup down and hurried into the living room and jerked up the receiver and prayed that it was Holly. "Nick, this is Sally Lewis," the tense, tired voice said. "Do you know what's happened to me?"

"Well Miss Lewis, uh, Sally, yes, I was going to call you," Nick said. "Now about your being transferred to another executive, well…"

"Transferred, hell," she said. "I've been fired. Effective at five this afternoon. Nick why did you let them do this to me? You know how unfair it is."

"Christ, I had no idea," he said. "I thought you were simply being transferred. Who the hell told you you were being fired? I'll have his rear end." Her laugh was harsh. "Miss Julie Connors told me Nick," she said. "And she made it quite clear what kind of a girl she thought I was."

"I don't believe it," Nick said, but he knew perfectly well that Julie was capable not only of having the girl fired, but of taking pleasure in delivering the blow herself.

"Nick please don't let this happen," she said. "Without a reference I'll never be able to get a decent job. And I've worked hard for you. You know that. And I've covered for you."

Nick detected the urgency in the girl's words and her tone and he squeezed the receiver and told himself he had become a vehicle for causing suffering for people that he liked and who helped him.

"Don't worry, Sally," he said, after a moment. "I'm going over to the Connors apartment right away and I'll take care of you."

"Oh Nick, I hate to put you to all this trouble," she said. "But I'm desperate. And Nick there's something you should know. Something that gives an absurd and unfair twist to this whole thing."

"What, Sally?" he asked.

"Well Mr. Connors has propositioned me several times, Nick," she said. "And a couple of times when I was working late, he's really mauled me. And he told me he would fire me in a minute if I didn't work for you."

"Listen, Sally, try to take it easy," Nick said. "I'm going over there now, and I'll call you as soon as I can."

"Gee thanks," she said. "I knew I could count on you Nick."

Nick hung up and a feeling of outrage coursed through his hung over body. Yet, he shuddered at the thought of storming over to the Connors apartment. He had lost Holly, and if he did this, he might lose everything else.

Nick went back into the kitchen and finished his coffee. Then he poured a second cup and walked into the living room and sat down at his desk. He sipped the steaming coffee and stared out at the cold, grey, snow-filled morning.

Dennison Beer, he muttered. He put his cup on the desk and bent over and took a pile of material on the Dennison account out of the carton that had been sent over by the agency. He drank the coffee and studied the previous ad campaigns that had been devised by the agency, and he knew that he was only stalling his trip to the Connors apartment.

The campaigns were all directed at sportsmen and had a heavy masculine tone, and Nick told himself that they resembled so many other ads directed at men. He finished the coffee and stared at the grim, snowy day through the window, and thought of Holly and her golden, glowing warmth and her youth and her enthusiasm and the way she made the apartment seem alive and exciting.

Nick stood up and went into the kitchen and poured himself a third cup of coffee and returned to his desk. Dennison Beer advertising could use an infusion of Holly's youth and aliveness, he told himself and drank the coffee.

He sat and stared at the snow and finished the coffee. Then he went into the bedroom and started dressing. He had pandered to Julie on the phone and told her he would be over later. By the way he gave in to her, he should have said crawl over later, he reminded himself. And now he had promised Sally Lewis he would storm over and save her job.

When he left the apartment and walked down to the street, he felt funny, and as he shoved the door open and stood in the sidewalk, he realized that somehow he simply did not care any longer about Marshall Connors and his agency and his daughter.

He had to wait ten minutes for a cab and he was shivering with cold when he finally climbed into the taxi. And as the taxi hummed along the street, he thought how warm he had always been with Holly.

The cab hummed faster and Nick shivered and his stomach seemed to be contracting. Holly, he repeated, and again he thought that he would never see her again.

And he stared out at leafless trees whose slim, black limbs were hung with ice and he thought of Dennison Beer. And he thought of Holly and of warmth and of honey.

As the cab slid to a stop for a red light, Nick suddenly thought of a beer advertising campaign based on a girl like Holly. Youth and sunshine and a glowing, honey-smooth idea. Nick leaned forward and remembered that for the past few years, beer sales were decreasing in bars and increasing in supermarkets where women did their shopping.

As the cab hummed forward again, Nick thought how the population was steadily shifting downward and how, in a few years the majority of the population would be under thirty.