Джеймс Кейн - Career in C Major and Other Fiction

“Oh, let’s skip it.”

“What! And have them think I’m dying of grief? I should say not. We’re going. And we’re going quick, so we can leave before the whole mob gets there. Hurry up. Get dressed.”

The last thing I wanted to do was go to Gwenny Blair’s cocktail party. I wanted to stay where I was, and inhale hair. There was nothing to it, though, but to get dressed. I began changing my clothes, and she began pulling things out and muttering: “... No, not that... It’s black, and looks like mourning... And not that. It makes me look too pale... Leonard, I’m going to wear a suit.”

“Well, why not?”

“A suit, that’s it. Casual, been out all day, just dropped in, got to run in a few minutes, lovely party — it will be, like hell. That’s it, a suit.”

I always loved Doris when she dropped the act and came out as the calculating little wench that she really was. She heard me laugh, and laughed too. “Right?”

“Quite right.”

She was dressed in five minutes flat, and for once she had to wait on me. The suit was dark gray, almost black, and cut so she looked slim as a boy. The blouse was light green, but with a copper tone in it, so it was perfect for her hair. Trust Doris not to put on anything that was just green. When I got downstairs she was pinning on a white camellia that had come on the run from the florist. Another woman would have had a gardenia, but not Doris. She knew the effect of those two shiny green leaves lying flat on the lapel.

“How do I look?”

How she looked was like some nineteen-year-old flapper that spent her first day at the races, cashed $27.50 on a $2 ticket, and was feeling just swell. But she didn’t want hooey, she wanted the low-down, so I just nodded, and we started out.

It was only four or five blocks away, in a big penthouse on top of one of those apartment buildings on Park Avenue, so we walked. On the way, she kept damning Gwenny, and all of Gwenny’s friends, under her breath, and saying she’d rather take a horsewhipping than go in and face them. But when we got there, she was all smiles. Only twenty or thirty people had shown up by then, and most of them hadn’t heard of it. That was the funny thing. I had bought some papers on my way up from Cecil’s, and two or three of them had nothing about it at all, and the others let it out with a line. In the theatrical business, bad news is no news. It’s only the hits that cause excitement.

So they were all crowding around her with their congratulations, and wanted to know what it felt like to be a big head-liner. Of course, that made it swell. But Doris leveled it out without batting an eye. “But I flopped! I’m not a headliner! I’m an ex -headliner!”

“You—! Come on, stop being funny!”

“I flopped. I’m out. They gave me my notice.”

“ How could you flop?”

“Oh please, please, don’t ask me — it just breaks my heart. And now I can’t go to Bermuda! Honestly, it’s not the principle of the thing, it’s the money! Think of all those lovely, lovely dollars that I’m not going to get!”

She didn’t lie about it, or pretend that she had done better than she had done, or pretty it up in any way. She had too much sense for that. But in twenty seconds she had them switched off from the horrible part, and had managed to work it in that she must have been getting a terrific price to go on at all, and had it going her way. Leighton came in while she was talking, and said the publicity was all wrong, and he was going to raise hell about it. They all agreed that was it, and in five minutes they were talking about the Yale game Saturday.

She drifted over to me. “Thank God that’s over. Was it all right?”

“Perfect.”

“Damn them.”

“Just a few minutes, and we’ll blow. We’ve still got my bag to unpack.”

She nodded, and looked at me, and let her lashes droop over her eyes. It was Eve looking at the apple, and my heart began to pound, and the room swam in front of me.

Lorentz came in. He didn’t come over. He waved, and smiled, and Doris waved back, but looked away quick. “I’m a little out of humor with Hugo. He must have known. You did, didn’t you? He could have given me some little hint.”

I thought of what he had said, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t care. I was still groggy from that look.

We got separated then, but pretty soon she had me by the arm, pulling me into a corner. “We’ve got to go. Make it quick with Gwenny, and then — out! ”

“Why sure. But what’s the matter?”

“The fool.”

“Who?”

“Gwenny. I could kill her. She knows how crazy I’ve been about that woman, and how I’ve wanted to meet her, and now, today of all days she had to pick out — she’s invited her! And she’s coming!”

“What woman?”

“Cecil Carver! Haven’t you heard me speak of her a hundred times? And now — I can’t meet her today. I can’t have her — pitying me!.. Can I?”

“No. We’ll blow.”

“I’ll meet you at the elevator— Oh my, there she is!”

I looked around, and Cecil was just coming in the room. I turned back to Doris, and she wasn’t there.

She was with Wilkins, Cecil I mean. That meant she was going to sing. There wasn’t much talk while Gwenny was taking her around. They piped down, and waited. They all had money, and position from ’way-back, but all they ever saw was each other. When a real celebrity showed up, they were as excited as a bunch of high school kids meeting some big-league ball player. I was still in the corner, and she didn’t see me until Gwenny called me out. She caught her breath. Gwenny introduced me, and I said “How do you do, Miss Carver,” and she said “How do you do, Mr. Borland,” and went on. But in a minute she came back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?”

“I didn’t know it.”

“Is she here?”

“Didn’t Gwenny tell you?”

“No.”

“It was on her account she asked you.”

“Her account?”

“She’s wanted to meet you. So I just found out.”

“Gwenny didn’t say anything. She called an hour ago and said come on up — and I wanted to go somewhere. I had to go somewhere. Why has she wanted to meet me?”

“Admires you. From afar.”

“Only that?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Back there somewhere. In one of the bedrooms, would be the best bet. Hiding.”

“From what?”

“You, I think.”

“Leonard, what is this? She wants to meet me, she’s hiding from me — what are you getting at? She’s not a child, to duck behind curtains when teacher comes.”

“I should say not.”

“Then what is this nonsense?”

“It’s no nonsense. Gwenny asked you, as a big favor to her. But Gwenny hadn’t heard about the flop. And on account of the flop, she’d rather not. Just — prefers some other time.”

“And that’s all?”

“Yeah, but it was an awful flop.”

“You’re sure you haven’t told her about me? Gone and got all full of contrition, and made a clean breast of it, and wiped the slate clean, so you can start all over again — have you? Have you?”

“No, not a word.”

She stood twisting a handkerchief and thinking, and then she turned and headed back toward the bedrooms. “Cecil—!”

“She had a flop, didn’t she? Then I guess I’m the one she wants to talk to.”

She went on back. I went over and had a drink. I needed one.

I was on my third when she came back, and I went over to her. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“What did you say?”

“Told her to forget it. Told her it could happen to anybody — which it can, baby, and don’t you forget it.”