79 Park Avenue

by Harold Robbins

  He could feel a futile anger rising in him. “If it was Mike, I bet you wouldn’t act like that!” She flushed suddenly and he knew that he had scored. “What has that dope got for you, anyway? He’ll never be anything but a jerk cop again once he gets out of the Army!”

  Her voice was low. “Mike’s in the Army?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “He enlisted the day after Pearl Harbour. Just a week after he got on the regular force, too.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Is he overseas?”

  “How the hell should I know?” he snarled. “I have better things to do than to keep tabs on him!” He turned back to the bedroom. “Maybe you would like me to look him up for you,” he flung back nastily over his shoulder. “I’ll tell him you have special rates for servicemen!”

  Joker Martin entered the restaurant and came over to Vito’s table. Vito looked up and signalled the waiter as he sat down. “You look worried, Joker,” he said.

  “I am worried,” Joker answered. “I can’t get Ross to stay out west. He keeps comin’ in every other month. I just had another wire from him. He’s on his way in now.”

  Vito ordered two drinks. “How about another boy?” he asked.

  Joker stared down at the table. “I thought about that, too, but who could I use? The crowd out there likes Ross. His family background is a great cover. Besides, there’s no one else smart enough, an’ if they are, I can’t trust ’em.”

  Vito scratched on the tablecloth idly with a pencil. “This has been goin’ on for about five months now?”

  Joker nodded.

  Vito threw the pencil down. “It’s that dame,” he said. Joker looked at him shrewdly. “What dame?”

  “Maryann,” Vito said. “She told me that Ross was after her to go out west with him, but she doesn’t want to.”

  “Maryann?” Joker was puzzled. “Who is she? Ross want to marry her?”

  Vito shook his head. “No, he doesn’t want to marry her. At least, she never said he did. He just flipped his lid over her, that’s all.” He laughed. “I can’t blame him for that, though. I almost did myself.”

  “Ross never mentioned no dame to me,” Joker said. “What kind of a broad is she?”

  Vito looked at him. “She’s a special kind of broad. Made for it. A whore with a code of ethics.”

  “No hustler’s got ethics,” Joker said. “The only language they understand is dough.”

  “You don’t know Maryann,” Vito said. “You can buy her time, but you can’t buy her.”

  “Maryann,” Joker said softly. “That’s a queer name for a whore.”

  “Maryann Flood,” Vito said.

  Joker’s face was suddenly red and excited. “A blonde girl with wide brown eyes that stare right through you?”

  “Yeah,” Vito answered curiously. “You know her?”

  Joker didn’t answer. He pounded the table softly with his fist. “The son of a bitch!” he swore. “The no-good bastard!”

  “What’s got into you?” Vito asked. “What’re you sore about?”

  Joker picked up his drink and swallowed it. “I should’ve guessed. Marja Flood.”

  “That’s what Ross calls her,” Vito said in a surprised voice. “Then you do know her?”

  Joker nodded. “I know her, all right. She worked for me at the Golden Glow when she was a kid. I damn near lost my licence for givin’ her a job. She was under age then.”

  “Oh,” Vito said.

  “She was sent up for cuttin’ her stepfather with a kitchen knife. I heard about her when she got out, but lost track after that,” Joker said. He signalled for another drink. “Ross always had a yen for that dame, but she couldn’t see him. There was another guy, Ross’s pal. He was her boy.”

  “What happened?” Vito asked.

  “She got sent up, I tol’ yuh,” Joker said. “After that I don’t know what happened. First I hear in five years is from you.”

  Vito’s legal mind didn’t like loose ends. “I mean about this friend of Ross’s. What happened to him?”

  “He became a cop an’ then went into the Army. Ross mentioned it once before he went up for his operation.” Joker sipped his drink reflectively. “She was quite a broad even when she was a kid. She had man sense even then. She still the same?”

  Vito laughed.

  Joker held up his hand. “Don’t tell me, I know.” He lit a cigarette, and Vito noticed that his fingers were trembling. “I had big plans for that kid myself,” Joker said.

  The muffled sound of the telephone bell penetrated her sleep. She rolled over on the bed and put her face in the pillow. It kept ringing, and reluctantly she woke up. Only in an emergency did the answering-service let the telephone ring. She picked up the ’phone. “Hello,” she said into it.

  “Maryann?” a cautious voice asked. “Frank.”

  She was wide awake now. It was Frank Millersen, Detective-Lieutenant Millersen. “Trouble again, Frank?” she asked, looking at the clock. It was almost ten in the morning. He hadn’t called since the time she had been charged with that larceny rap.

  “No, the cautious voice laughed softly. “You’re okay.”

  An almost inaudible sigh of relief escaped her lips. It had been a long time since Millersen had first picked her up. A green kid she was then. She had spent thirty days in the can, but she had made friends with him. “What is it, then?” she asked, her voice growing husky. “Want to see me?”

  The voice laughed again. “No, thanks, Maryann. I can’t afford it on a cop’s pay.”

  “You know it ain’t the dough with you, Frank,” she said. “I like you.”

  “Don’t con me, Maryann,” he laughed. “We both know better. I just called to tell you I located that ex-cop you asked me about a few months ago. The one that went into the Army. Mike Keyes, your girl-friend’s brother.”

  An excitement ran through her. She had called him as soon as Ross had left that first time, and told him the first story that came to her mind. “Yeah?” she said, controlling her voice carefully. “Where is he?”

  “St. Alban’s Veterans’ Hospital,” he said. “Been there three weeks. He was wounded in North Africa.”

  Despite herself, a note of concern crept into her voice. “He was wounded?”

  “Yeah. But not too bad, from what I hear. He’s gettin’ out on a weekend pass tomorrow mornin’. If your girl-friend wants to catch him, she better get out there before eight o’clock. Otherwise, it’ll be too late. You know how soldiers are.” Millersen chuckled again. “The last thing they go lookin’ for is their sisters.”

  “Thanks very much, Frank,” she said, putting down the telephone. She reached for a cigarette and lit it thoughtfully. She could see Mike’s face in the blue smoke before her. The hurt in his eyes the last time she had seen him.

  She wondered what he would do on his weekend pass. His father and mother were in California, where the old man had a defence job. That was what she had been told when she called the house where Mike had lived.

  She wondered if he had a girl-friend he was going to see. Something inside her ached at that thought. He probably never thought about her any more. Slowly she ground out the cigarette in an ash-tray. She was sorry she had ever given in to the impulse to ask Frank to locate Mike for her.

  She parked the car across the street from the gate to the hospital and waited. The big A.W.V.S. bus was at the corner, waiting to take the soldiers into the city. She looked at her watch. It was seven-thirty. She shivered slightly and lit a cigarette. It had been a long time since she had been up so early in the morning.

  After a while she began to feel a little silly. It was stupid to get up in the middle of the night and drive all the way out here just to look at him. Not to talk to him, not to touch him. Just to see him walk a few feet and get into a bus. He would never even know she was here.

  She was on her third cigarette when the gate opened and the first group of soldiers came out A sudden fear came into her. They all looked so much alike in their unifo
rms. She wondered whether she would recognise him. He might have changed.

  A small Red Cross Mobile Canteen was set up in front of the gate, and women were busy handing out doughnuts and cups of hot coffee to the boys. Two more buses came up and pulled in behind the first one.

  Eagerly she scanned the soldiers’ faces. The first bus was full now, and its motors caught with a roar. It pulled off, and the second bus moved up to take its place. The raucous sounds of the men’s laughter came to her.

  The second bus drove off and the last bus moved up. She looked at her watch nervously. It was a quarter past eight Millersen had been wrong. Mike wasn’t coming out. There were fewer soldiers now. The rush was over.

  She scanned each face quickly. Maybe she had missed him in the crowd which had got on the earlier buses. Now there were only a few soldiers coming down the path. The Mobile Canteen was shutting its flaps. She heard the woman who seemed to be in charge telling the other that it was time to go. The Canteen drove off.

  She ground out her cigarette in the dashboard tray and turned on the ignition. Either she had missed him in the crowd or he wasn’t coming out. She pressed the starter, and the motor caught. The last bus started out into the road before her.

  She put the car into gear and started to move. A last impulse made her look across the road. He was just turning through the gate. Her foot hit the brake automatically and she stared.

  He was thin, terribly thin; his cheekbones stuck out, and his eyes were blue hollows about them. He walked with a slight limp, as if favouring his right leg. As he saw the bus disappearing around the corner, he stopped and she saw him snap his fingers in a familiar gesture of disappointment. She could almost hear the “Damn!” his lips framed.

  Slowly he shifted his small canvas bag from his right hand to his left hand. He struck a match and lit a cigarette then flipped the match into the gutter, and began to walk down the street.

  She sat as if paralysed, looking after him. He seemed strange in a uniform, and yet it was as if he had always worn it. Everything about him was wholly familiar. As she stepped from the car, she felt almost as if a magnet were drawing her. She found herself running after him.

  Her hand reached out and covered his own on the handle of the bag. There was such a pounding in her ears that she could hardly hear her voice. “Carry your bag, soldier?”

  He turned slowly. Her vision blurred and she couldn’t see his face clearly. Was he annoyed? Frightened, she spoke again. “Carry your bag, soldier?”

  The cigarette hanging from his lips began to fall. It tumbled crazily across his lapel and dropped to the sidewalk between them. She stood trembling, waiting for him to speak.

  His lips moved, but no sound came out. His face began to whiten and he seemed to sway. She put out a hand to steady him. Then it was as if there were a fire between them, for she was in his arms and kissing his mouth and the salt of someone’s tears was on their lips.

  She turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, looking up at him in the shadows of the hallway. “We’re home, Mike,” she said.

  He walked into the room and turned to face her. Her explanations had already been made. She had told him about the friend who had found him for her.

  She closed the door behind her, and a sudden shyness came over her. “Sit down and rest,” she said. “I’ll fix you a drink.” She walked over to the sideboard. “What’ll it be?”

  “Gin over rocks,” he said, his eyes following her.

  Quickly she poured the drink and handed it to him. She took the cap from his head and studied his face. “You’ve changed, Mike.”

  He smiled slowly. “I’m a man now, Marja. I couldn’t stay a a boy forever. You told me that, remember?”

  Her eyes were on his. She nodded.

  He raised his drink to her. “To the children we were,” he said.

  “Mike!” There was the echo of pain in her voice. “Let’s not remember. Let’s pretend we are just meeting, with all our yesterdays forgotten and nothing but bright tomorrows before us.”

  The corners of his mouth twisted. “It’s pretty hard to pretend, Marja. Too many things are happening all around us.”

  “For just these few days, then, Mike. Please!”

  He put his drink down and held out his arms toward her. She came into them quickly and he placed her head against his chest. She could hear his voice rumbling deep inside him. “I don’t have to pretend anything, Marja. Being with you is all I ever wanted.”

  The telephone began to ring, and he released her.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to answer it.”

  “It may be important,” he said.

  “The only thing important this weekend is us,” she answered.

  When the ’phone stopped ringing, she dialled a number. “This is Miss Flood. I’m going away for the weekend. Will you take all the messages, please, and tell everyone who asks for immediate service.”

  He watched her put down the telephone. “You must have a pretty good job to be able to afford this place.”

  She smiled. “I’ve been lucky.”

  A kind of pride came into his eyes. “Smart, too. Yuh don’t get all these things without being smart.”

  Suddenly cautious, she studied his face for hidden meanings. Then she drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk shop,” she said. “I get enough of that all week. This weekend is for me.”

  It was near midnight when they came in from dinner, still laughing at something he had said in the cab. But his face, she realised, was drawn and tired. She was immediately contrite.

  “I been havin’ such a ball,” she said. “I forgot you were just out of the hospital.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “No, you’re not,” she insisted, crossing to the bedroom. “I’ll make the bed and draw your bath. You’re goin’ right to sleep.”

  “Marja,” he protested. “You make me feel like a baby.”

  “For this weekend,” she said, smiling at him, “that’s just what you are. My baby.”

  Quickly she turned down the covers of the bed and went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. When she came out into the bedroom, he was standing in the doorway looking at her.

  “You don’t have to give up your bed for me,” he said. “I can sleep on the couch.”

  She could feel a flame creeping up in her face. She crossed the room and put her arms around his neck. “Mike,” she whispered, “you’re such a fool.” She kissed him.

  He stood very still for a moment, then his arms tightened around her until she could hardly breathe. There were lights spinning before her eyes and the room was turning over and over. She could feel his muscles tighten strongly against her. She closed her eyes. It had never been like this. Never. This was for her. This was her feeling, her emotion, her life force. It was her beginning and her ending. The world and the stars were exploding inside her.

  “Mike!” she cried. “I love you, Mike!”

  She lay quietly in the bed watching him sleep. The grey light of the morning filtered through the drawn blinds. A stray shaft of sunlight fell across his mouth. He seemed to be smiling. She rested her head on the pillow, scarcely daring to breathe for fear it would disturb him. The weekend had so quickly become yesterday. She closed her eyes to better remember.

  “We could be married before I check in.” His voice was low.

  Startled, she opened her eyes. “I thought you were sleeping,” she said.

  “We have time. I don’t have to report until noon.” He was looking right into her eyes.

  She didn’t answer.

  His hand sought her fingers. “What’s wrong, Marja?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Something is,” he said. “I feel it. Ever since I first asked you yesterday. Don’t you want to marry me?”

  She turned her face to him. “You know better than that.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked. “From here I go to officer-candidate school. L
ieutenants get pretty good pay. We can manage on that. At least we could be together until I go overseas again.”

  “Mike,” she whispered, “please stop. Don’t ask me any more.”

  “But I love you, baby,” he said. “I want you with me always. Is it your job? The money you get?”

  She shook her head.

  “When I get out of service, I’m goin’ to law school,” he said. “Lawyers make out pretty good.”

  “No, Mike, no.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her. “If there’s something you’re afraid of, baby, tell me. I don’t care what it is. Nothing you can do or have done can keep us apart. I love you too much.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “Yuh mean that, don’t you?” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  “Someone else said that to me once, but he didn’t mean it.”

  “He didn’t love you like I do,” he said. “Nobody ever has or will.”

  She took a deep breath. “I wish I could believe it. Maybe someday—”

  “Marry me and see,” he said, smiling.

  The doorbell rang sharply. He looked at her. “Expecting someone?”

  She shook her head as the bell rang again. “It’s probably the milkman. He’ll go away.”

  But the bell didn’t stop ringing. “Maybe you better go see who it is,” he said.

  “Oh, all right,” she said, reaching for her robe. She slipped into it and went into the other room, closing the bedroom door behind her.

  She opened the hall door. “Yes?” she asked.

  “I knew you were home,” Ross said, “even though you didn’t answer the ’phone all weekend.”

  She placed her foot behind the door. “You can’t come in,” she whispered. “I told you never to come unless we spoke first.”

  He stared balefully. “How’s anybody goin’ to talk to you when you don’t answer the ’phone?”

  “Come back this afternoon,” she said, starting to close the door on him.

  He pushed it back and she fell back with it. He came into the apartment. She could smell liquor on his breath. “I’m not comin’ back this afternoon,” he said. “I’m goin’ to the coast to stay, an’ you’re comin’ with me!”