James Cain - The Institute

She camped on one of the sofas with Time and I on the other sofa with the stuff Sam Dent’s secretary had sent me, from a friend in the Newspaper Club, on the various local reporters who covered this kind of story. I thought it would help if I could call them by name, as though I knew all about them.

Pretty soon she pitched the magazine back on the table and said: “I know what we could do. I know what would freshen dead air.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

She came over and sat in my lap and put her arms around me. “Like we could go to bed.”

“Like we could not!” I growled.

“We could, we could, we could!”

By that time she was kissing me — hot, wet, and sticky. Of course, Hortense completely possessed me by now, yet in just a few seconds I wanted this girl bad — and she knew it. There were more kisses; I don’t know how many. But at last, by using all the willpower I had, I pushed her off, stood up, and said: “You wait downstairs — if you still want the job. Wait in the lobby. When I’m ready, I’ll call Miss Nettie. Don’t come up until she tells you.”

“No, Dr. Palmer, no!”

“Yes. You have to go.”

“But why? Dr. Palmer, I’m entitled! It’s nothing new for me, that I thought it up after I got here. I fell for you right from the start, way back in September. I showed you my legs that first day when you lectured on Ann Rutledge.”

“Ann who!”

“Whoever. Hathaway, I guess it was.”

“Keep those Anns straight.”

“And you peeped at my legs, too.”

“So? They’re pretty enough.”

“And you want me now. I can tell!”

“Regardless of whether I want you or not, it can’t be!”

“But why? Dr. Palmer, I ask you: why?”

“There’s a reason, Teddy.”

“Blonde or brunette?”

“More like blonde.”

“I guess that says it.”

She pulled out one of her curls, which were a sort of dyed sorrel, looked at it for a moment, and then shook her head. Her eyes were wet. I felt compassion, deep and genuine. It seemed tragic, somehow, that I had to say no to her. I blotted her eyes with my handkerchief, while at the same time, edging her out. In the hall, when the elevator came, I kissed her once more and whispered: “O.K., I’ll be thinking of you.” When she was gone I went back inside, waited a minute, then called Miss Nettie and asked: “That girl from Student Aid — is she waiting or not?”

“She’s sitting in the lobby.”

I went into the bathroom and washed my mouth out with Listerine, to kill any smell of lipstick that might be lingering.

I sat down again, trembling. At three o’clock I picked up the suitcases and went down in the freight elevator to the parking lot entrance and carried them out to the car. After I had put them in the back, I went around to the front of the building into the lobby. There I found Teddy reading a magazine. She seemed upset that I had done my own toting.

“I wanted to do it for you,” she said. “It’s not the money. It’s you.”

“You said that already.”

I put her in the car and for the first time noticed the patches on the seat of her pants. They looked as though some sailor had sewed them on.

“Who did your patches?”

“I did,” she said. “Why?”

“Just wondering, that’s all. They’re nice, pattable patches.”

“You ought to know. You patted them.”

“So I did, so I did. Touchée.”

“What do you mean, touchée? No one got touched, I know of. Brother, what a washout. Patty cake, patty cake, pat me some more.”

“What has to be, has to be.”

When we reached the hotel parking lot I took the suitcases out for Teddy but let her carry them to the marquee where I told the doorman to take them and call a bellhop.

Conference Room A was just off the lobby. It was all set up, with the bar, buffet, and counter at one end, my service table at one side, three armchairs with their backs to the bar, mikes in front of them, and folding chairs facing them. We were the first to arrive except for a bartender polishing glasses and two girls in red trunks, boleros, and shoes, with some of the barest legs you ever saw. They were lining up bowls with dip, salad, and relish on the buffet, as well as placing platters of canapes around. They came running over to help. I introduced Teddy as “a working girl’s working girl; so if you need any help, just holler.” We all got along well. When the bellhop had taken the brochures and pamphlets out of the suitcases and left after getting his tip, Teddy and I arranged the material on the table. She had some suggestions about how to display it, all of them good.

Then the Garretts arrived. Hortense, wearing a green cocktail dress with a gold band around her head, looked simply beautiful. I presented Teddy as “my girl Friday who carried the press stuff for me so I could arrive like a gran signor — kind of like cruelty to children, except that she’s as strong as a bull.”

“How fortunate,” Hortense said icily.

“But prettier’n a bull,” Mr. Garrett said.

“Mrs. Garrett,” Teddy cooed, “I’ve seen your picture often. I’ve always admired your hair. I just love dark blonde.”

“You have quite beautiful hair yourself.”

“Not really. Right now it’s dyed with henna rinse. I wish it were blonde, like yours.”

“I’ll send you a wig. How’s that?”

“Oh, Mrs. Garrett, would you?”

There was more to this exchange than met the naked ear. I was somewhat uneasy at the way Teddy was tipping me off that she knew what my reason was.

Hortense tried her chair and reached for the mike, to adjust it. But it was stiff and wouldn’t budge. Teddy skipped over to it, and gave a yank that really did the trick. She pushed it a little bit at a time until Hortense nodded that it was the way she wanted it.

Hortense got up and came over to me. I was at the table I had had put in, looking at the various handouts. She nodded a couple of times. Then, after getting closer to me, she stiffened. “Get that girl out of here!” she snapped. “What do you mean, bringing such a creature?”

“What girl?”

“That girl!”

Her voice was pure venom, and she had the bad manners to point without looking where she was pointing, to the mikes where Teddy was standing. When she raised her voice, Teddy came over and took her wrist and began putting pressure on it. Hortense walked backward under the pressure of Teddy’s grip until she reached her armchair and plopped down on it. When Teddy spoke, the mike, which was turned on, picked up her voice and boomed it out over the entire room.

“I saw what you did, Mrs. Garrett, leaning close in to Dr. Palmer, so you could sniff his shirt to see if it smelled like me. I’m sure it did. It should have, the way I climbed on him and twisted around in his lap and slobbered on him. But he said no. Did you hear what I said, Mrs. Garrett? He made me wait downstairs because he had a reason — kind of a blonde reason. All I can say is, if you’re that reason, he might do better with me!”

She wheeled around and faced me, her eyes glittering with tears, and sobbed: “Dr. Palmer, I’ll thank you to pay me, so I can go. I want my wages, whatever they are. Also taxi fare to the bus and bus fare to College Park.”

But before I could get out my wallet, Mr. Garrett came over. He wrapped Teddy in his arms and said very loudly: “Take it easy, Teddy. Calm down, relax. College Park is right on my way. As soon as we’re through here, I’ll run you home.” He led her to one of the folding chairs, sat her down, and then went over to Hortense whose hand he picked up and patted, but she slapped him away. Then she jumped up and went out with that quick, boiling-hot walk a woman breaks into when she’s really mad. She went through the lobby and out the front door.