When she waked it was empty. She’d sat up and looked over in the cut of sunlight, and said—Francis? But it was only a swirl of blankets, and she got up slowly and went into the bathroom to dress. A man’s shirt hung from the shower rod, a boy’s lay crumpled on the floor and she reached to hang them on the hook on the bathroom door where, when she swung it closed, a douche dangled. She washed quickly and dressed, threw the shirts on a bed, and leaned across the high chest of drawers to follow the line of her lips in the mirror with a barely discernible lipstick, of her lids with black eyeliner, looked at herself for a moment and abruptly pulled open the shirt drawer and took out the portrait, paused the eyeliner over the opulent décolletage, and then drew a huge mustache over the pouting lips and thrust it back under the shirts. There was a note on the table in the foyer. It was signed love, F. and she read it three times in the cab downtown. The doors opened silently. She pushed 15 and ascended alone to The Light Cavalry Overture as far as 3, where the doors opened silently on youth unbuttoned to the waist shifting packages to enter and press 5 and stare into the top of her dress until they opened silently and he ran a hand up 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 14 before they closed behind him, to open silently on her alone at 6, and close, and open silently at 7, and close, and then at 8, at 9, at 10 she suddenly got out, pressed the up button and stood there waiting till, behind her now, doors opened on him waiting, and closed as she recovered her quick step forward to turn and press the up button again, and then again behind her doors opened silently on youth here white buttoned to the throat and black above it wheeling a cart of interoffice mail back for her entrance, staring at black backs of hands the bar or two mounting a Spanish rhythm for his exit at 11, the door closing silently behind him suddenly seized and held and now, as it closed, she caught her breath and her eyes away from the glistening chest and buttons flung loosely undone down it for those on the wall panel orderly numbered but for one reading simply, Doors, another Alarm, The Peanut Vendor seething through the palm sized screen above, an idly scratching hand thrust down the front of denims burnished where it moved hidden as the other, empty, rose behind her gasped against the waist high rail there for—You like to give head? posed in a tone as vacant as the face she fled for the lobby length explosion of blacks streaked with mad reserve on white doors opening silently on a coatless figure askew there as though he’d just burst free from the painting’s restless labyrinth like a demented Virgil for the amorphous Dante surfacing behind him, dropping a briefcase of Gladstone bag design square before her in collision to stare, with apologetic fixity blurred by rimless lenses, into the top of her dress.
—Ma-dame . . .
—Oh, Mister Davidoff . . .
—Mister Skinner, you’ve just met Mrs Joubert . . .
—Gosh.
—No damage done? Recovering full stature from his version of a bow, Davidoff came up closing his tie full throttle at the throat with a punch for the down button and—get us some figures, just get us some figures on it. Mrs Joubert ought to be interested in this little project too, she . . . he turned to see her already out of reach.—Oh Mrs Joubert? Oh and Skinner . . . The doors had opened silently on youth lounging unbuttoned, empty handed along the waist high rail at the back of the car, motionless for the amorphous entrance pursued through the closing doors by—that writer you’re digging up for us Skinner, a name, we want a name. Mrs Joubert . . .? he came cornering like a vehicle to get past her for the doorknob.—Glad you could get in today . . . he held the door just far enough opened to obstruct her passage,—I’m up to my ears since your dad left but you’ll . . .
—I don’t need to bother you at all Mister Davidofif, I just . . .
—Don’t worry about it, no bother at all . . . he’d got the door opened far enough now to bar her way with a look at his wristwatch.—Pretty tough sticking to a schedule, it just took me an hour to teach that fellow Skinner the facts of life, he’s just . . .
—But please don’t let me keep you.
—Don’t worry about it that’s what I’m here for, he’s just joined Duncan and Co in their top sales slot doesn’t even know the difference between perfect binding and Carol? Oh Carol, Mrs Joubert wants a look at those picture proofs for the Annual Report, oh and Carol? Get the ones in Mister Eigen’s office too they’re in there for captioning, I want to get a set of these right off to your dad, he came on a half step ahead.
—I’m sorry I’m in rather a hurry Mister Davidoff, I have to see Mister Beaton and . . .
—Beaton? Beaton can wait, he’s used to it. Now I see this whole thing as, sorry . . . he’d stopped abruptly to frame nothing in a square of fingers up before her,—whole feature on your youngsters buying their share in America built around the concept of corporate responsibility present and future tense, and . . . he recovered his half step ahead to emphasize—and giving the stockholders and the security analyst boys a sneak preview imagewise of our entry into the fastest growing market in the economy, once this new corporate restructuring is nailed down I guess you saw the site of the new parent world headquarters building up the street, you saw the sign? Nothing but a big hole there now but the next time you talk to your dad, I think I’ve got him pretty steamed up about getting a foot in the door with this Romance of Cobalt we’re sponsoring, it’s what I had this Skinner in here for just now, good solid background in the textbook field and of course you know Duncan and Company, really solid old line prestige publishers this Skinner’s digging up a topflight name writer for the project right up in the class of this name painter with the lobby mural out here. I even had to fight getting hold of that for us till even the Beatons around here got the picture we could subsidize name art and get a tax break at the same here, this way, I’m down this way . . .
—But Mister Beaton is . . .
—Probably something I can help you clear up in half the time Beaton would . . .
—No it’s a, something legal.
—Meant to tell you yes, we’ve got this minority suit all squared away, it came across my desk last week and . . .
—This what?
—I put an authorization right into the works don’t worry about it, corporate democracy in action and all the rest of it, I saw what you’re getting across to your youngsters right off the bat you get Beaton in on something like that he . . .
—I don’t think I quite . . .
—Don’t worry about it. Bring Beaton in on something he’ll pick it to pieces till you don’t recognize it, just hasn’t got what it takes to make an on the spot decision I’ve heard the Governor himself tell him, trouble with you lawyers, all you do is tell me why I can’t do something instead of how I can and Beaton . . .
—Oh how is he? She’d paused where the carpeting started.
—Beaton? He’s . . .
—Uncle John, I meant to . . .
—Oh the Governor, don’t worry about him they don’t make them like him anymore, they won’t match those steel gray eyes of his with all the corneal transplants in the world right now all he’s burned up about are those bridge games he’s missing on the train down this way, I’m down this way . . .
—I, thank you Mister Davidoff, I do think Mister Beaton has some papers for me to sign, it’s just a family matter . . .
He caught his balance and plunged into the stream of carpet beside her, regaining that half step ahead as though to avoid a confrontation of heights as his, no longer buoyed by the sharp punctuation of his heels, seemed to drop in consonance with the confidential lowering of his tone.—Of course you won’t have to get into these other details with Beaton, means well but he hasn’t got what it takes for an on the spot decision like your dad or the Governor glad I was on deck when you came in, of course I know your dad could use me in that Washington spot but he probably needs me here to keep an eye on the store while this corporate reorganization goes through things coasting along without the top man for these on the spot decisions . . . He rounded the corner in a side step,—next time you talk to your dad you might want to
suggest . . .
—I’ll tell him you’ve been awfully helpful Mister Davidoff, and now . . .
—Yes you might want to put in a word . . . he got in ahead of her with an arm out for the phone.—Better grab Crawley while I have a minute, straighten him out on this oh Miss Bulcke, straighten him out on this brush fire in Gandia tell Beaton Mrs Joubert is here . . . he dialed,—tell him she’s in a hurry.
—Yes he’s expecting you Mrs Joubert. How nice to see you.
—Hello Shirl? Hold on. I’ll be rounding up these proofs while you kill some time with Beaton. Shirl? Put Crawley on, I . . .
—Mister Beaton was in Mister Cutler’s office, Mrs Joubert. I think he expects . . .
—Shirl just tell him I’ve got Mrs Joubert here on the, Shirl? Hold on. Cutler’s back?
—He’ll be with you in just a moment Mrs Joubert.
—What’s Cutler doing back.
—Mister Cutler is still away, Mister Davidoff.
—Well what’s Beaton doing in Shirl? Hello? Crawley?
Buttons blossomed with light at the telephone’s base and Miss Bulcke pushed one.—Oh I meant to press hold . . .
—Hello?
—Hello . . .?
—Hello? Hello? Shirley what the hell is going on here.
—I think it’s Mister Davidoff calling you Mister Crawley, he . . .
—Well I can’t waste the, just tell him I’ve got someone with me . . . and the phone disappeared under a massive hunch of tweed.—Now sir. This is your aunts’ telephone stock is it? twenty, thirty, joint tenants all the way are they? fifty . . .
—My aunts? yes well they, no they live together yes but they’ve owned the house for a long time in fact it’s been in the fam . . .
—No no in this stock ownership I mean seventy, eighty joint tenants with rights of survival just means if one of them should ninety, expire, five . . .
—Well, well yes I mean Aunt Julia had some trouble with her colon once but . . .
—I see yes, yes we don’t need to turn this into a medical discussion Mister, Mister . . . a slip of paper came crushed from his hand—Bast yes, Mister Bast, rather elderly ladies I take it?
—Oh yes yes they’re both quite, but does that make a diff . . .
—No difference at all no just occurred to me, don’t see these very often any more you know picture of the globe here with wires running round it ten, twenty . . .
—But they’re not, there’s nothing wrong with them is there? I mean I think it’s about all my aunts have for . . .
—Nothing wrong with them at all no forty, fifty just a good many years since they issued certificates in these separate denominations isn’t it sixty, seventy like currency yes five, six, didn’t sign them though did they, eight . . .
—Sign them?
—Wise enough precaution yes considering the ah . . . he paused to raise his sight across the blotter’s green as he might have over some desolate savanna,—the circumstances yes just pick up a handful of stock powers from Shirley out there as you leave let them sign those and mail them in no problem at all now, do we have an asking price?
—Well, well no I guess whatever you . . .
—Just want to sell them at the market then, do they?
—The, yes the Stock Market yes if somebody . . .
—The market price Mister Bast . . . his hand stalked the black box beyond the confines of the green,—when we say at the market we mean at the market price . . . his hand leaped,—going at forty-four and an eighth yes I’ll try to get you a quarter . . .
—A quarter? but . . .
—Want to sit still and wait for a half you can try it but I look for it to close off two or three points, already a little overbought at forty-four . . .
—Oh well forty-four yes forty-four dollars that’s fine yes they’ll be very pleased, I think they said once it cost about twenty-three . . .
—Had a couple of splits in there too haven’t they, come off quite nicely yes . . .
—Splits? but . . .
—Three for one when was it, ’fifty-nine? Selling around seventy when it split two for one in ’sixty-four yes come off quite nicely, now what’s this.
—What? Oh that yes that’s some other stock another aunt of mine got a long time ago, it says nineteen eleven down in the corner there it was just in the drawer with this telephone stock and they thought I might as well . . .
—Norma Mining Company? Pretty thing isn’t it.
—Yes right there under the eagle it says par value ten cents per share so a thousand shares would be worth a hun . . .
—Pretty thing yes, take my advice Mister Bast. Frame it.
—Frame it?
—Or just use it to, don’t mean to be indelicate just use it for toilet paper.
—The, but it says right there . . .
—Nothing better to do write to the Attorney General in Montana, probably tell you this Norma Mining Company defaulted on its taxes the year this was issued never even lived to see nineteen twelve. Mining schemes Mister Bast, mining schemes, that all of it then? Good of you to drop by Mister Bast, like to chat with you but I’m a busy man can’t be too, wait now wait what’s all this . . .
—No well you see this is just the portfolio of a, of an associate of mine who . . .
—A what . . .? the end of the battered thing came off with a tug at the zipper,—portfolio?
—Yes well you see he understood that brokers offer to review the contents of a, of one’s portfolio and when I mentioned I was coming in to sell this telephone stock he . . .
—But the, what in the hell is all this?
—Yes well it’s the ah, I hadn’t really looked in it myself it’s the contents of his portfolio you see he’s not very . . .
—But it’s, my God Mister Bast nothing here but a lot of trash . . . his hand pawed ribbons of newspaper and smeared envelopes, prospectuses, the Dines Letter, Moody’s Midyear, Value Line Survey—having a little joke, are you?
—Oh no no he’s very serious he, you see I just offered to help him I’d stopped to pick up a check he was going to cash for me but the computer had made a mistake on it and since he was, since I was a little short of cash I . . .
—Mister Bast I am a busy man, I think . . .
—No no wait just that, what’s that . . .
—This?
—Yes it’s a thousand shares of a . . .
—Fine, yes, serve the same purpose as your Norma Mining there.
—No but you see here’s their little booklet that . . .
—Look here Mister Bast, a mining company incorporated under the rules of Delaware, capitalization limited to three hundred thousand a year you don’t know what that means?
—Well I suppose it just . . .
—Means their disclosure papers don’t have to be audited by the SEC. I don’t deal in penny stock Mister Bast.
—But you see their little booklet here shows . . .
—Trees! nothing but trees! Doesn’t even say they own it, probably just filed an exploration claim and . . .
—But these pictures of all their equipment are . . .
—Who says it’s their equipment! Anything here say this equipment belongs to this what is it? Ace Development Company? Pretty pictures Mister Bast, pretty pictures. Anybody can print pretty pictures.
—But isn’t the . . .
—W Decker, Underwriter, who in the hell is W Decker? Know him? No, nobody does. Probably put out a million of these shares and has another million tucked away just in case a virgin mineral should turn up, posing as the underwriter here to disguise his ownership. Childish nonsense Mister Bast, your associate must be . . .
—No but, just one more moment, there’s something else, right under there . . .
—This? Hi Tiger. That’s me in the photo hon, I put it on my letter as a sorta sample of a set I posed for with each and every one of you guys in mind, posed the way you like to see a, what in the, just what is this sir!
—But it,
I don’t know I, I meant that red thing there that, that red . . .
—This? Here comes another first in the marital relations field, my, my God sir! Perfectly barbaric! He tipped back and the mass of the chair tipped with him, cornering with a dulled blucher a delicately striped and more delicately shaded hindquarter remnant of one of the lives lost to the walls beyond now covering the wastebasket where he dropped these solicitations coming forward with a reach that commanded the entire expanse of teak and blotter stretched before him to seize a small bottle beside an opened book there and get its cap off.—Get out very much do you, Mister Bast?
—Out, where . . .
—Outdoors sir! Out of doors! Just what is it you do Mister Bast? Outside of being a ah, business representative as your card here has it.
—I’m a composer I, I compose . . .
—Music?
—Yes, you see I . . .
—Ought to get some outdoor interests Mister Bast, these ah, these indoor pastimes breed a sort of a, not the healthiest state of mind . . . he popped a small pill into his mouth and snapped the cap back on the bottle.—Best medicine there is.
—Oh, what, what is it . . .
—No no, not this, this is just nitroglycerine . . . He pushed the bottle to a distant teak expanse,—the outdoors sir, the outdoors. Now if we’ve cleared up our business . . .
—Yes well there was just one more thing there if you could, it’s a bond, that red thing, I think it’s a bond . . .
—You understand I’m a very busy man Mister Bast, if you hadn’t come so highly recommended I don’t know what I’d . . .
—Yes well I, I did appreciate her writing that note to you for me, she . . .
—Says anything I can do for you will be a kindness to her, yes. Just how do you come to know Amy Joubert, Mister Bast?
—Well you see we both . . .
—Always had a kind of weakness for the arts though didn’t she, probably why she refers to you here as such a dear person. Charming girl yes, lovely girl, almost say generous to a fault.
J R Page 29
