by Rob Summers
Chapter 17 Cruel’s Place
Pride and Fame were quarreling at Cruel’s Place.
Perhaps Pride had been too much encouraged when Fame had called him in the afternoon and asked him to take her out again. The worries of his sleepless night had, it seemed, been for nothing. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since he had listened to drunken Mr. Power in the rest room and then offended Fame. Yet she had called him even before he had a chance to call her. With relief, Pride had attempted to apologize anyway; but she had talked as if nothing had happened, would not hear his apology.
“Something has come up, suddenly,” she had said. “The Disdains are putting together a little dinner party in order to give their friends a chance to see them off on a tour of the Orient.”
Pride, whose tact was of the fast dissolving brand, had asked, “You mean they’re giving their own going away party?”
“Well, no one else did, so they had to,” she answered stiffly.
Somehow he had smoothed over this gaffe and the conversation had been concluded peacefully.
Now at Cruel’s they were quarreling, quarreling over Tedium, who Fame had invited to sit with them again. The threesome was at a little table farthest from the stage, where Mr. Disdain was making a speech. Pride and Fame spoke in strained whispers.
“She’s my friend and I invited her.”
“How in the world could she be your friend? She’s not ‘society.’ She’s practically a beggar.”
“I told you we were locker mates in high school, and we’ve kept in touch.”
“How? All she ever does is—”
“Why don’t you want her at the table? Are you ashamed of her?”
“She’s a bore, a yawning, thudding, shuddering—”
“She’s my friend.”
“And that settles it? You’re telling me what to do?”
“Yes.”
Tedium sat slumped forward in her chair, dressed in a bright green cocktail dress. She chewed gum and stared vacantly at her wrist set.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you, Fame?”
“No, I’m not. I don’t get upset over things like this.”
“Or anything at all?”
“What?”
“You should get upset over some things. You should show some emotion.”
Pride noticed that Mr. Power was watching them from across the room.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but Tedium stays.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
Mr. Disdain went on and on about his plans for their shopping time in Singapore. At Pride’s table they sat in tedious silence.
“We’ve got to leave here,” he whispered.
“I’m not leaving,” she shot back.
Pride’s hands quivered. This treacherous woman was ruining his life. She must be made to behave decently. How dare she treat him like a dog.
“Fame, I’m leaving now,” he whispered intently. “If you don’t come with me, then it’s over between us.”
“All right, it’s over,” she said evenly.
His pain, which had increased all the time they had dated, now felt like a sharp instrument thrust into his heart. He perspired and shook like a sick man. His voice thickened.
“You—you never give me a chance.”
She did not respond. The fog of timelessness closed around the table as it had the previous evening. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Pride sat in passionate, bitter misery. Suddenly, he stood and made to pull her chair out for her. She gripped the table edge and fought him. He grasped her bare arm with both hands and began to lift her. She screamed, and her scream enraged him because she was using the other people to get her way, just as she had always done, keeping them constantly in crowds, never alone. Though she fought him, he did not let her go.
“Shut up,” he said, and his voice was harsh and distant, like the voice of a wicked, old stranger.
Then, in a moment, he felt someone large and powerful tearing his hands away from her and pinning his arms behind his back. Before he had time to think, handcuffs locked around his wrists.
“This way,” said a deep voice, and he was yanked and propelled out of the room into the empty foyer. The huge, grizzled policeman held him there until they were joined by Mr. Power.
“Good job, Shaky,” Power said to the policeman. Then he turned to Pride and cursed him for a solid minute. Pride only stared back, his mouth wide open, breathing heavily.
“Patrolman,” Power ordered, “arrest this bum for assault. We’re both eyewitnesses. Take him to jail.”
