Robert Wahl - Secretary_s tricks

Self-loathing permeated his weary, aching body and he stood up and stumbled into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. He kept thinking of what Julie had said about his going back to the gutter. God, she would love to see me now, he told himself.

He ran hot water and started shaving, and at one point he wondered, not just casually, how it would be to slit his throat. He finished shaving and splashed on after-shave and felt much better.

Then he studied his face in the mirror. A few days ago, he'd have looked at himself and smiled knowing he had everything and could go no place but up.

Then he laughed grimly, because he was in the gutter, so in a different way, there was nowhere to go but up.

God, snap out of this self-pity and self-loathing, he told himself aloud. Do something, he chanted to himself. That had always been his motto when he was young and poor. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, do something.

Nick ran a hot shower and stayed a long time under the burning spray, and he felt like a new man when he stepped out. He hurried into the bedroom and got dressed and left the apartment quickly.

Because he knew now what he was going to do. He raced down the stairs and out into the snow and started walking down the icy sidewalk. Several cabs passed, but he felt good walking, and the chilling wind helped snap him from the deadly hangover.

He had one gambit left, and by God, he was going to play it. He might be dead with agencies in this town. But he still had one shot at something big.

He walked against a red light, ignoring the shouts of outraged drivers, and turned right and walked faster down Park Avenue. And he told himself that even if Frances Dennison did not buy his plans for the advertising campaign, at least he could talk to her. And since he no longer had Holly, it would feel good to just get his misery off his chest.

Holly, he said, and just repeating the name warmed him, and he knew that so long as he lived, he would compare any woman he ever touched with the memory of the golden girl that could have been his.

His heart was racing as he turned into the elaborate apartment house where Frances Dennison lived. And on the way up in the elevator, his spurt of courage began to sputter and he began to wonder if Mrs. Dennison wouldn't think him rude and forward to burst in on her this way.

But he knew he could not back out now, or it would be to an endless rut of drinking and self-pity.

The elevator door slid open and Nick stepped out onto the thick carpeting and moved slowly down the long hallway. He paused outside the door then pushed the bell.

The butler answered immediately and was very cordial and Nick was surprised when he said Mrs. Dennison was expecting him. Nick followed the butler down the corridor and into the massive ornate living room.

Frances Dennison got up from her chair and put her tea cup down. "Well, young man, I'm glad to see you again," she said.

"Pardon me for barging in on you this way," Nick said.

"Don't be silly," she said. "You said you'd have my ad campaign ready in two days, so I've been expecting you."

"Well, I have an idea," he said. "But I'm afraid I no longer have an agency."

She picked up her cup and took a sip. "Oh, yes, I know all about that," she said. "Marshall Connors called. I imagine he's called everyone he can think of by now. He only told me he fired you, but that you had done terrible things to his daughter and that she had broken the engagement."

"That's not exactly how it happened," Nick said. "I broke the engagement and I wasn't fired, I quit. But it's important to me that you know I'm capable of coming up with an imaginative campaign, and on the deadline."

"I never really doubted that you would," she said, and leaned over and pulled a heavy cord, and in an instant the butler appeared in the door. "Get this young man a double scotch with water, and fill my cup. And bring in a bottle of scotch and a bottle of gin and leave them."

The butler took her cup and left the room and Mrs. Dennison sat down again, and motioned to a chair for Nick.

"We have a great deal to discuss, young man," she said. "Of course, I'm anxious to hear your plans for my wretched beer. But if you don't mind an old lady prying, there are other things you ought to know."

"I appreciate your interest," Nick said and leaned forward.

"Well, I think you're a damn fool," she said. "Though the fact that you had enough sense to throw over that silly, frigid Connors girl gives me hope. I assume it was because of Holly."

"Yes, Mrs. Dennison," Nick said. "I was an utter fool about Holly. It was a mistake that will cloud the rest of my life. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at another woman without thinking of Holly and the brief time with her."

The butler brought the drinks and put the two bottles on the carved table beside Mrs. Dennison's chair. They drank silently for a moment. Then Mrs. Dennison smiled deeply, the heavy wrinkles creasing her face.

"I'm taking my account from Connors and Ross," she said. "I would like you to come to work for me as my advertising director. You can decide which agency will handle your proposed plan."

Nick was so stunned it took him a full minute to reply, and all the time, she sat there smiling and taking dainty sips of gin.

"Mrs. Dennison, I don't know how to thank you," he said. "I would consider it an honor to work for you. And I promise that you won't regret the decision."

"Oh, I'm sure I won't," she said. "But that's not the main thing I wanted to tell you. I mean the most important thing."

"What could possibly be more important," he asked.

"Oh, come now," she said. "I know the job is important, but be honest. What do you most want more than any job in the world?"

"Is it really possible, Mrs. Dennison," Nick asked. "Where is she? I'd go to the ends of the earth to find her but I don't even know her last name."

"You only have to go a few doors down the hall," Mrs. Dennison said. "When she heard you were coming, she refused to stay and see you. So you might have some trouble."

"But how did she get here," Nick asked. "When I left your apartment, I knew perfectly well she was going to leave," Mrs. Dennison said. "And I knew she wouldn't have any money. So I waited for her and brought her here. And she's brightened this dingy old apartment and made the past couple of days the most pleasant I've had in a very long time."

"Can I go to her now," Nick asked.

"Of course," she said. "And you convince her of the way you feel, and you spend as much time as necessary. And when you get out of bed, we'll have dinner and you can explain your campaign to me. She is in the fourth room down the hall."

"Mrs. Dennison, you're some girl," Nick said and stood up. He walked from the room and down the corridor to the fourth door and knocked. There was no answer, so he knocked louder.

"Who is it," Holly called.

Just the sound of her voice made Nick go warm. He started to answer, then opened the door and went in and closed the door behind him.

Holly turned from the window and the sight of her blue eyes and golden body made Nick catch in his breath. She wore only a pair of thin, blue, shortie pajamas, and Nick's breath came in rushes as he looked up and down the hills and valleys of her body.

"I don't want to see you," she snapped and reached over and picked up a robe. She put the robe on and turned back to look from the window.

Nick walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, but she twisted away. "I love you, Holly," he said softly. "I love you more than anything in the world. And I want to marry you."

"Your confession of feeling comes a little late, Nick," she said. "You have a fiancee and a very important job."

"Didn't Mrs. Dennison tell you?" he asked.