Indecent Proposal

by Jack Engelhard

  Now it was the same and the elevator stopped moving. I tried the buttons again for each floor--and nothing. Over and over and no response again and again. I even tried shouting, first Ibrahim’s name and then Sy’s. Then, after I gave up the shouting and sat down and a great deal of time had elapsed, I tried something else, prayer, which I had not done in years.

  I said, “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”

  Hours passed, and I was three-quarters asleep and only half lucid--dozing on the floor of the elevator that was becoming a coffin--and in this stupor I conjured up King David, my very own King David. He came to me in those white robes, his face beautiful and kind and so radiant and so strong, and I said, “You’re not here to reprove me, are you? You’re my guy.”

  “You’re my guy, too. Thou art that man just as I was that man.”

  “We’re talking you and Bathsheba?”

  “No, we’re talking you and Joan--and this Ibrahim. What have you done?--and don’t tell me the woman made you do it. Adam already tried that with the One who is, was and always will be.”

  “Oh no. I have sinned a great sin.”

  “I know how it is, Joshua. You did it for money. I did it for love.”

  “You mean it’s okay?”

  “He’s ticked off at you, Josh. Why an Arab? Why an Amalekite? You know He doesn’t like them!”

  “I got tired of waiting.”

  “He was going to make you rich, legally.”

  “He was?”

  “Oh sure. You were inscribed in the Book of Wealth.”

  “So what was taking so long?”

  “You know what my son Solomon said. He said, ‘In the morning sow your seed and in the evening do not be idle, for you cannot know which will succeed, this or that.’ For you, Josh, it was coming in the evening. If only you had waited and trusted your talent as Joan kept telling you. In good time, Josh, it would have come to you in good time. If only you had waited.”

  “We don’t have all that time in the world--not like He does.”

  “You lost faith, Josh. That’s the biggest sin of all. And an Amalekite?”

  “So why make them so rich?”

  “You’re judging Him?”

  “I’m only asking why give them all the oil and everything?”

  “That’s His business.”

  “Why does He make them hate us so much?”

  “They don’t all hate us.”

  “Oh no? Does He watch TV news? Does He read Anthony Lewis?”

  “He created Anthony Lewis.”

  “Talk to Him about that.”

  “We’re here to talk about you. Pick a punishment.”

  “How about no chocolate for a month?”

  “You’ve read my psalms?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “Funny? Would you call them funny?”

  “No.”

  “Well this isn’t funny, either. You know the Amalekites stole two of my wives. With Joan that makes it three. This Joan of yours--how could you sell her off like that? That’s never been done before. You almost deserve congratulations. This is not only a great sin, it’s an historic sin. The next time Moses goes up he’ll come down with eleven strictly on account of you!”

  “There you go reproving me, David. It’s not like you.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that He liked you so much. He was nuts about Joan, even though she is a shiksa.”

  “He did? He liked me?”

  “He loved you, Josh. He loved your folks, too.”

  “So He gave them Hitler?”

  “His schemes are not our schemes, you know that, Josh.”

  “But now He hates me.”

  “He’s thinking it over, and in any case there’s going to be punishment.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “You’re still my favorite guy, David.”

  “You’re okay too, Josh. I forgive you.”

  “So bless me before you leave.”

  “I can’t do that, Josh.”

  “You can’t leave before you bless me.”

  “Yes I can and it was only Jacob who could wrestle an angel.”

  “All right. But just say this--Joshua Joshua.”

  “Can’t do that, either. That’s too much.”

  “Come on, David. Just once say it twice.”

  “Promise me this--to love the good and hate evil.”

  “I promise.”

  “All right, Joshua Joshua.”

  Now I was awake and it was morning.

  Chapter 21

  THE DOORS PARTED. A hand raised me from the void and pulled me out. I was on the casino floor. A wrinkled old man in a “security” uniform said, “How long you been in there?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “Day or night?”

  He looked at me.

  “It’s ten in the morning, fella. What’s going on?”

  “You tell me. Don’t you people check your elevators?”

  “This is the bad one.”

  “Very bad.”

  He said he’d have to make out a report. He tried to lead me to some office but I refused to follow.

  “Where you going?” he said.

  “I don’t know.”

  But I went out for air. The sun hung over the ocean like a blazing yellow balloon. I still felt that terrible heat, a heat that kept me moving, straight for the Versailles.

  Up the Boardwalk, as I marched toward Ibrahim, I felt like a bum, not at all presentable, and when I caught a glimpse of myself from a shop window I decided to clean up.

  But instead of using a hotel’s facilities I headed down the beach to the water--the hotel would have been sensible and that was exactly what I did not want to be now. I kind of liked how I looked and felt, irrational and wild, and so I just cleaned up a bit down by the water.

  When I got to the Versailles the casino guards gave me the once-over but let me in, and there he was, Ibrahim, at the same table, the same table where it had all begun. He still had that fierce majesty about him, and I was as awed as before, except that now this was mixed with high indignation, the sort a man feels when he’s been defeated and can be defeated no more. There’s not much more they can do to him and so he can only win.

  The table was roped off, but this early in the morning there was not much of a crowd to watch him. There was no crowd at all, in fact. There was only me.

  I watched him play. He was doing everything wrong. He knew I was there, of course, but he pretended otherwise. He kept busting against the dealer and in no time was down a stack of millions.

  Then his luck changed. Two blackjacks in a row and then the dealer began to bust. Ibrahim won the next eleven hands. I had never seen such a run.

  What? What was it about me that brought this man such luck? What was luck anyway? Was it designed from the heavens, or was it one power that heaven did not control? Luck was perhaps the single force outside heaven’s province. There was no calling it down by the virtuous deeds or clean life--it rested on the undeserving as capriciously as on the deserving.

  Whatever it was, I had it--for Ibrahim.

  Now he turned to me. “Again it’s you,” he said.

  I stepped over the rope and sat down next to him.

  The pit boss walked over to me and asked if I wanted to play. The minimum was ten thousand dollars. But now I understood. The million dollars had been placed in a casino account under our name.

  This was the perfect way to do it, of course. There was no other way to do it. No cash, no check to openly violate Joan’s honor and dignity.

  A class act, Ibrahim. Really, he was impossible to dislike. You could hate everything about the man, but you could not hate the man.

  “No,” I said to the pit boss. “I’ll just watch.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  Sir. They do not call you sir at the three-dollar tables.

  Well, well,
well, I thought. So I’m a millionaire.

  The pit boss came up to me again and said there was a suite ready for me in the hotel. Comped, of course. Free room, free meals, for as long as I wanted.

  Now a free drink was brought to me by a lovely hostess. I did not have to ask, did not have to utter a sound. I was now part of the world that spoke in nods--and understandings.

  In this world virtually everything was free of charge. When you are rich you do not have to pay. When you are poor you do. That’s strange. But it’s also part of the understanding.

  After winning and then losing a few more hands Ibrahim invited me to his suite, as I had expected and as he had expected. He knew I’d be back as I knew I’d be back.

  This was not finished. Everything had been done, but something remained unresolved. Joan--and I did not ask--was surely back or on her way back to Philadelphia by now. If not, if she was still in his bed, we were then working on our second million.

  My impulse should have been to drive straight home. Instead I was driven to Ibrahim. Ibrahim was first on my agenda. I had his money and he had had my wife and there were things to talk about. Could he feel pain? Maybe that was what I had to know. Because I was certain Joan had left him loving her. She knew no other way to leave a man.

  The bodyguards were up there patrolling his corridors, and in some of his rooms business was being conducted. Men in desert garb were clustered around telephones speaking in urgent Arabic. I had not noticed that before, and I also noticed for the first time that there were no women. There must be women here, I thought, but they must know their place, wherever that place may be.

  These were a different people, I had to remind myself. Their ways are not our ways. Their women were not our women. Their women were in bondage. They were kept in veils and kept separate not because they were weak but because they had such awful powers, the powers of temptation, the powers to corrupt.

  That was important to remember. To Ibrahim, Joan was not a person. She was much more and much less. As much as he felt desire for her, equally as much he felt scorn for her.

  She was sin.

  Now in his room we were face to face.

  He said, “No scenes of reproach, I trust. That would be most unseemly.”

  “No, I’ve been paid.”

  “So have I.”

  “Now that is unseemly,” I said.

  “I beg your pardon. Yes it was. But this--this meeting is so unnecessary.”

  He got up from his chair and poured himself a Pepsi. He did not offer me one. No, even hospitality was now so unnecessary. He did nothing to hide his boredom. He was not very attractive now in the glare of the sun that shone in through the balcony window.

  He was restless and irritable and the reason for it was plain. He had been up all night. His eyes were red and puffed up, his jowls floating. Flat nose, thick lips--this was not the earlier Ibrahim. He was a man who required prep time to work his looks and his charm. I had caught him unawares.

  “It’s a big mistake, your coming here,” he said. “How many chances do you think a man gets?”

  “In an ordinary lifetime? One chance at everything.”

  “But no more. Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Kane. You’re ahead, Mr. Kane. That’s the thing about a dumb gambler. He doesn’t know when he’s ahead. Doesn’t know when to quit. I hate gamblers like that. They weary me. They make me sick. I’m surprised at you, Mr. Kane. I was so impressed with you at the blackjack table. You knew just when to quit. The man matched you blackjack for blackjack and you knew it was time. I was impressed, Mr. Kane. But now? I am not so impressed now, Mr. Kane. Be a smart gambler. Get up from the table and get lost.”

  “It isn’t time,” I said.

  “You keep trying me. Don’t you know? Never look back.”

  “I know the rules.”

  “You’re breaking the rules. You have no class.”

  “I have a million dollars. I don’t need class.”

  “So take the money and disappear.”

  “This is not attractive,” I said.

  “No, it is not attractive. I like you, Mr. Kane. You look deep inside the human heart. This makes you touching. But it also makes you pathetic. Any man who looks deep inside people is asking for trouble. He’ll find what you’ve found. It is not attractive. It is ugly. Take it from an expert. You know I’m an expert, Mr. Kane. You know this too well. I can play the game because I don’t get hurt.”

  “Something tells me you do, Mr. Hassan.”

  “Oh in the beginning, yes. I’ll let you in on a secret.”

  “I like secrets, Mr. Hassan.”

  “Good. The secret is this--I started playing the games only after I found that not a single person could resist the power of wealth. You think I enjoyed this, this discovery? You think I went chasing after them? They came to me, from the lowest to the highest, humbling, groveling, disgracing themselves. There was nothing they would not do. I could make any person do anything I wanted. Anything. Some lesson, huh? I thought, there must be one person, one individual somewhere, with real dignity. So that’s the game, and now I enjoy it, because there is no such person. There is no such dignity. Oh false, bogus dignity, that we all have. Do you know what real dignity is, Mr. Kane?”

  “It’s what makes us but a little lower than the angels.”

  “Aha, King David, right?”

  “Right.”

  “The Psalms. But are we but a little lower than the angels? Take it from me, this is one time your King David was wrong. The sweet singer of Israel he was, yes, but this is too sweet.”

  “It’s bad money,” I said, “that makes people such puppets. It’s cheap power.”

  “I am not getting through to you, am I, Mr. Kane? It’s not the money. It’s the people. Isn’t it sad? Haven’t you learned anything in this life of yours? Well, learn this--Put your faith in money. Put your faith in God. But never put your faith in a man, and certainly never a woman.”

  I agreed with him as I agreed with the lunatics who harangued pedestrians from downtown street corners. Listen carefully. Everything they say is true. But they are still crazy.

  “Isn’t it really thrills?” I said. “Isn’t that what you’re really after?”

  “From a deep person such as you, Joshua Kane, this is a surprising statement. I’m disappointed.”

  “It was a question.”

  “You want to know what motivates a man like me, don’t you?”

  “It is a mystery.”

  “So I’m telling you. It’s a quest for dignity, this pursuit of mine. You’ve done your reading. ‘One man in a thousand I have found, but one woman among them I have not found.’”

  “I Koheles,” I said.

  “Of course. So I Ibrahim continue Solomon’s search. Though I have not even found this one man in a thousand.”

  “But the woman,” I said. “You found her in Joan.”

  “Oh yes. But the search goes on as life goes on.”

  I said, “It must be difficult, being so wealthy.”

  “You’re saying this facetiously, and yet it’s true. It’s like being a god...”

  “But how you flatter yourself.”

  “...in the sense that all people stand naked before you.”

  “Oh, people are flawed and frail, Mr. Hassan. Who can quarrel? But is it really necessary to lure them into corruption? Isn’t it really for the fun of it, for the game as you yourself admit, that you entice them out of their integrity?”

  “I lure nobody, my friend. They lure me. Men--industrialists!--have fallen on their knees, begging me to have a picture taken with them, a handshake to show on the stock exchange. Worth gold! Women? The wives of religious leaders, even wives of prime ministers...they wait outside my door. You use the word corruption. Tell me, is any man or woman beyond corruption?”

  “Mr. Hassan, I said I agree. We are all vulnerable creatures. But isn’t it awful to use this, like using the testimony of a biased witness? I mean, isn’t it cruel to plunder t
he human heart?”

  “I would be unable to use this if people had dignity.”

  “But you yourself admit that only by a hair do we maintain our higher nature over the lower. It is a fragile balance. So why tamper? Why tip the scales? Why not leave it alone?”

  A pause, then a smile. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe it is for fun.”

  The real treachery here, I thought, was that he had such cause. I’d have liked him better without the justification. With justification everything was legal. This seemed to be the age of justifying--even Hitler and Manson, poor things.

  So he found something out, this Ibrahim. Good for him. Found himself a truth: people are rotten and corruptible. So, stop the presses? No big secret.

  He was silent for a while. Maybe, I thought, he has another secret.

  “The movie,” he said, “is that what you’re worried about?”

  The movie? What movie? No, I had not been worried about that because I had never thought of that. A movie of Joan and Ibrahim? Forget the sordidness--it would make Joan his forever. A movie of this night to delight him in the days to come--no, that I had not imagined!

  This would not be fair. The deal had been for one night. Now, with a movie, it would be for perpetuity. For all time on film he would be making love to her. That would mean that I could never put this behind me. Neither could Joan. This night would go on forever.

  Now it flared up again, the terrible heat I thought I had cooled.

  There had to be a solution to this man, I now thought. There had to be an answer.

  “You made a movie?”

  “She didn’t know.”

  For the first time I had him on the defensive. Not quite but his self-assurance was not as complete as usual. Due to the fact, possibly, that I was without fear and he could sense a recklessness in me. For the first time, I was dangerous.