These Curious Pleasures

by Sloane Britain

  Amy was another one like Happy. She was as bright and chipper as if she had been drinking milk exclusively last night.

  I watched Allison closely to see if there would be any change in her behavior. The difference was slight but it was there. She was polite and friendly with Amy but there was an inner remoteness about Allison that was new. She responded to Amy's flirting half-heartedly.

  Was she still in a state of shock or had she reached some sort of decision about me? I had no way of knowing.

  Marv, Perry and Herb didn't come down until after lunch. It was incredible but they didn't remember what they had done the night before. I watched them closely, listened to the way they talked to Allison and me. There was no mistaking it. They wouldn't have been able to carry off that much of an act. They had been so drunk that they couldn't recall what had happened. Or, if they did, they didn't remember who the girls had been.

  I took Allison aside and discussed the matter with her. She had noticed too. We were the only ones who knew about it.

  Allison confessed to me that she wasn't feeling very well. She had taken quite a beating the night before. We had to get her to a doctor.

  Luckily, Happy was taking some of the men out to the golf course. We asked him to drive us in to the village so we could do some shopping. The ride was torturous. It took us a half hour to reach the town. Allison got sicker every moment. She was perspiring and her face had a greenish tinge.

  Those damn fool men teased her, presuming that she was suffering from a hangover. Allison took their teasing good-naturedly, but I wanted to kill them. After what they had done to her the night before this was the last straw.

  Allison could hardly speak by the time we got to the doctor so I had to do all the talking. He was an old country doctor who had known the Broadmans for years. It was quite a job convincing him that it would be better for all concerned if he never breathed a word of our visit. He finally agreed.

  I waited for him to complete his examination in an agony of suspense. If something were wrong with Allison I'd never forgive myself. I knew it was irrational, that I had done everything I could but still I felt that I could have done more. I've got that kind of mind. I've got to question my motives about everything. Was it possible that I hadn't done all I could because I resented Allison's holding out on me sexually?

  No, that was ridiculous. Allison would be mine in the near future and I knew it. I wasn't that childish that I couldn't wait. Nothing that had happened the night before was my fault.

  What if Allison were pregnant? That would be the ultimate irony. But of course we wouldn't be able to find out about that for a little while.

  The doctor called me in to talk to him while Allison was getting dressed. He said there was nothing physically wrong with her beyond some superficial bruises. But emotionally she was in a bad state. She needed rest and quiet.

  Well, that was a hot one. Rest and quiet at Happy Broadman's? She might as well recuperate in a boiler factory.

  "You're not going back there," I announced to Allison as we were leaving the doctor's office. "We're going back to New York. Right away, as soon as we can get a train. I'll call Karen and tell her your grandmother died and that you have to go to her funeral. I'll say that you're very upset and I'm going with you so you won't have to be alone." I stopped talking for a moment. Allison didn't say anything. "Is that o.k. with you?"

  "Fine," she said.

  "All right then, I'll ask Judy to bring our luggage back to New York with her on Monday."

  I steered Allison into a drugstore, seated her at the counter, ordered a cup of coffee for her, and left her to make the call. Oh, I was great at taking over—after the crisis had passed.

  The poor baby sat at the counter staring at the mirror in front of her. She didn't even touch her coffee. I watched her while I was talking to Karen and she didn't move an inch the whole time.

  I didn't feel so hot but compared with Allison I was ready to run in the Olympics. I hadn't taken as much of a beating as she had. Besides, I was a lot tougher inside. I'd seen too many very unpretty things during that year when I had bummed around New York.

  We took the afternoon train to New York. Allison slept through the trip. I stared out the window and hated. Everybody and anything that had ever or ever could hurt Allison was my enemy. Especially that fat slob Marv Banner. And to think that a few days before I had been feeling sorry for the way Happy was taking advantage of him. Now I hoped that Happy would screw him blind.

  * * *

  I had to wake Allison up when we reached Grand Central. "Should we go to your apartment or mine?" I asked her.

  "It doesn't matter. Your place, I guess," she answered.

  All the way to my apartment in the cab Allison fought a losing battle to stay awake. She kept falling asleep and then jolting awake whenever we'd stop for a light.

  I had to help Allison up the stairs to my flat. Once inside, she fell down on the couch in utter exhaustion. I took her clothes off and carried her into the bedroom. She seemed heavier than she had the night before. I must have been in quite a state myself to have been able to pick her up so easily. This time I staggered under her weight but I made it. I dumped her on the bed and went into the bathroom to draw a bath.

  When I came back, Allison was lying just as I had left her with her eyes closed.

  "Is that bath for me?" she murmured, her eyes still closed.

  "If you want it."

  "Yes. I want to wash myself until there's no trace of those beasts left on me."

  I stayed with her while she bathed. She asked me to wash her back.

  I knelt by the side of the tub and rubbed Allison's back vigorously. Her lovely body was covered with bruises but she kept asking me to rub harder. As if I could scrub away the bruises on her soul.

  After her bath, Allison went back to her bed. She was asleep in minutes.

  I puttered around the apartment cleaning up as quietly as I could. The place was a mess. I had let it go because there was no one to see the clutter but myself. Now Allison would be staying here and I wanted the place to be immaculate for her.

  I checked on Allison before making dinner. She was still asleep. It would be silly to wake her up so I made fried chicken. The chicken would keep until she was hungry and then she could eat it cold.

  I bathed before going to bed. I looked at myself in the door mirror. I had some pretty ugly black and blue marks myself. But inside I still felt clean. Those brutes hadn't touched me inside as they had Allison.

  Allison was lying in a diagonal across the bed. I took a blanket and settled down on the living room couch.

  I had been sleeping for several hours when I heard Allison calling for me. I ran into the bedroom.

  Allison was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with fright. "Stay with me, darling. Please. I'm afraid to be alone."

  I tried to get her to eat something but she said that she was too tired. All she wanted to do was sleep in my arms.

  I got into bed and put my arms around her gently. Allison sighed like a contented child. "Stay with me, Sloane," she said. And then she was asleep again.

  I awoke late in the morning. Sunday morning noises were coming up from the street. You can always tell Sunday in New York City. The very air seems to smell different. There's a peace about the city.

  "Awake?"

  I jumped. I had thought that Allison was still sleeping.

  "Yes. How do you feel this morning?"

  "Better. Still tired though," she giggled.

  I was so happy to hear that giggle that I almost kissed her. But I remembered her swollen lips in time.

  "Some guest you've got, my love. Bet you thought you had a regular Rip Van Winkle on your hands."

  "I was glad you could sleep," I said. "Hungry?"

  "And how. I haven't eaten since the day before yesterday."

  "Stay here. I'll make breakfast and bring it in to you," I said.

  "Divine. Utterly and completely divine. I've been waiting all my
life for someone to bring me breakfast in bed."

  "Let's hope you don't have to go through the same sort of thing again in order to get breakfast in bed. The goal is worthy but is it worth the trouble?" I ran out of the room in time to escape the pillow Allison flung at my head.

  After breakfast Allison slept for a few more hours. Then she got up and stumbled into the living room where I was lying on the couch reading.

  "Hi," she said, flopping down on top of me. "I'm alive. For the moment, anyway."

  We watched television. There was a good movie on. Allison lay in my arms on the couch. She was more asleep than awake. Putting the television set on was a gimmick on my part. If I hadn't Allison would have felt it necessary to make conversation and she was just too worn out.

  We spent the rest of the day that way. Allison ate a little but she couldn't hold down much. Most of the time she slept or looked at television blankly.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next day was Monday. I had to go to work. Allison woke up long enough in the morning to assure me that she would be alright until I could return after six.

  I hated the senseless bustle and noise of the office more that day than ever before. The whole lousy set-up of show business was responsible in a way for what had happened to Allison. But I was good at my job. No one knew that this time I really meant the sarcastic comments I was noted for.

  Happy and Judy didn't make it back from the country until noon. About noon there was a call.

  "Harold Broadman Office," I answered.

  "Wow! Dig that Madison Avenue voice. Has anyone ever told you you sound like a sexy General MacArthur?"

  That's one thing I haven't mentioned yet. My voice is one of the few things about myself I really like. It's low and musical. I've heard recordings of it and I know what it sounds like. Sort of insinuatingly sexy.

  "They've never put it quite that way before," I answered.

  "Enough compliments. On to more important matters. Is Happy in?" he asked.

  "No. Not yet. Any message?"

  "No. I'll call back. Hey, wait a minute, maybe you can help me. I'm Sylvan Miller, the film editor for the Ferguson pilot. I've got some bad news to tell Happy. They ran way over budget on the shooting and now the editing is running into some complications. It's going to cost him about twice our estimate," he said.

  "How can I help you?"

  "This is the problem. We both know Happy, doll. Fridays you can't talk to him because he can't wait to get away from business for the weekend. Mondays he comes back with a hangover and hates everybody. What I want to know is, when do you think would be the best time to talk to him?"

  "Get him in schul on Saturday," I said.

  Sylvan laughed. "Forget it. I'll take my chances on calling back later."

  Judy and Happy came in. Sylvan was right, Happy was in one of his impossible moods. Not really impossible if you know him. He bellows like a bull one minute and the next he doesn't even know that he's been insulting.

  Judy finally couldn't take his screaming any more. She told him that she'd quit if he didn't shut up and then shut his door so she couldn't hear his answer. Happy knew that she didn't mean it. She wouldn't leave him if she were offered twice the salary. It was just their way of threatening each other with all kinds of calamities.

  Closing his door didn't do me any good. Happy just used the intercom system to scream at me. He kept me hopping that day, I tell you. It was suddenly imperative that he talk to people from Alaska to Liverpool. I charged the calls to Marv Banner's phone with pleasure.

  Allison called at three. I was so glad to hear from her that I ignored Happy's bellowing while we were talking. She said that she had just called to find out how I was. I knew better. I knew that she needed to talk to me for reassurance. I also knew that I was loving her more than ever.

  I was on the phone when a young man got off the elevator. I waved him over to a chair and signalled with upraised finger that I'd be with him in a minute.

  He was an interesting looking guy. Ordinarily he was the kind of guy who wouldn't be noticed. You know, the sort who seems to be part of the wallpaper. In the Harold Broadman Office he stuck out like a tuba player in a string quartet.

  I finished with the call and turned toward him. "It sounds even better in person. Your voice, I mean," he said.

  "Oh, thanks. You must be Sylvan Miller."

  "Right. How's chances of seeing Happy sometime in the near future?"

  "I don't know. He's busy right now. Wait a minute, I'll ask him if he can see you." I got Happy on the intercom.

  "Happy says he'll be with you in about twenty minutes if you want to wait."

  "In other words an hour, right?" Sylvan asked.

  "Check. Going to wait?"

  "Why not? It's his money. If he wants to pay me for sitting around here it's all right with me."

  I had a lot of work to do so I couldn't keep talking to Sylvan. I was highly aware of his presence, though. Not only did he look like an anomaly in that office but he complicated matters by reading a book while he was waiting. It was William James' Varieties of Religious Experience. For a wild moment I wondered if they were going to adapt it for a musical spectacular. In this business you never know.

  Finally Happy opened the door to his office. It was like a signal. From the moment they saw each other Happy and Sylvan went at it. The verbal feathers flew. I had to admire Sylvan, he didn't let Happy's screams affect him. He calmly held to his point... if Happy wanted the pilot to be any good this was no time to quibble about a few hundred dollars. A lot of good or a lot of damage could be done in the cutting room.

  Sylvan won.

  After he had left Happy commented to me, "That Miller boy's all right. Knows his stuff."

  That was so typical of Happy. He respected anyone who wouldn't let him get away with anything. Too many people backed down when he yelled at them.

  Judy came out into my office. "Planning to spend the night?" she asked.

  I glanced at my watch. It was 6:15. The afternoon had flown by on frenetic wings.

  I wanted to take a cab home but I forced myself to take the subway. Had to be careful with money. No telling when Allison would be ready to work again and I might have to tide her over for a while.

  I opened the door with my key in case she should be sleeping. I tip-toed into the bedroom. She wasn't there. Not in the bathroom or kitchen either.

  At last I found a note on the coffee table in the living room. Allison had gone home. She asked me to call her.

  I dialed her number. "Allison, are you out of your head?" I yelled at her when she answered.

  "Don't be silly, darling. I'm all right. The rest did me a world of good. I wanted to wait until you got home but I've got a class tonight so I had to rush home to change."

  "You're in no condition to go to a class."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly all right," she said. "Can you meet me after class?"

  I agreed to meet her. I had three hours to kill so I went out and had dinner in a Hungarian restaurant in the neighborhood. Then I went down to the river. I sat on the same bench. I should have taken out a lease on the thing.

  At 9:30 I was waiting in the lobby of the school for Allison. She came down the stairs fifteen minutes later.

  Allison was wearing a black fitted coat. It looked good on her. She had washed her hair and gold highlights shone in the honey coloured pageboy. She looked tired but her eyes were glowing.

  We went to a bar. We selected a corner booth so that we could sit next to each other on the curved bench and it wouldn't look incriminating. We had a couple of drinks.

  "Coming back to my place?" I asked.

  "No, not tonight. I have to go home and change clothes for the morning," Allison said.

  "Can I stay with you tonight at your place?"

  "I don't think that would be fair to you."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Sloane, let's face it. You can't sleep in the same bed with me again
without wanting to make love. Well, I don't want it."

  "Thanks, lady. It was kind of you to tell me before I started getting foolish ideas. What happened to that bit about the run-of-the-play contract?"

  "That still stands," Allison said. "It's just for the present. I couldn't take sex now. Not after what happened. Please try to understand. It won't last forever. I'll be all right in a little while."

  Yeah, I understood. That's my specialty—understanding when I have no other choice. But I didn't like it.

  I put Allison in a cab and explained to her that I felt like walking home. I waited until her cab was out of sight then I hailed a cab and headed for the Village. I was on my way to find me a woman.

  I couldn't blame Allison. Her behavior was perfectly logical. But, goddamn it I just couldn't take it. How long did she think she could just keep me waiting? I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life sitting by the river and feeling sorry for myself.

  The Harbor was the big deal gay bar that season. It would have its moment of glory for a while and then the crowd would start going somewhere else. For the time being anyway it was the best lesbian pickup joint in town.

  I took a seat at the end of the bar near the cigarette machine. That way I could see the length of the bar and, by turning slightly, take in the booths too. I had had two whiskey sours with Allison. Now I ordered the whiskey neat and double.

  There was an all right looking specimen at the other end of the bar. She was sitting alone and she looked like she didn't like it. I saw her looking at me but I let her wait.

  After a while I went over. "Mind if I join you?" I asked rhetorically, pulling up a stool as I spoke.

  "Please do. My name's Betty Jean. I'm from Atlanta. Where are you from?"

  "Vermont. I was brought up on a farm." Yeah, me and Laurence Olivier. For some crazy reason I felt like lying about everything that night.

  "Oh, I wish I lived on a farm. I just love nature, don't you?" she asked, lifting her glass with both hands. The nails were so long and red that they frightened me.

  "No, I like the city. I hate nature," I said.

  "I like the city, too. I bet we like a lot of the same things," Betty Jean said.