Chapter 15
JANICE hated to call off her date with Jay-but she dreaded the thought of Al's hurting him even more. She had grown fond of Jay-sometimes she even thought herself in love with him. Not as she once had loved Al-but she certainly felt something for him.
Jay was, as she had expected, disappointed-even angry.
"Why should you have to see him at his damned convenience? From what you've told me, he's abandoned you. He has no moral right to make demands on you."
"Jay-I can't explain. He and I have-things to settle."
"If you want a legal separation or a divorce, I can arrange for a lawyer to call on him."
"No, Jay-don't do that-at least until I've spoken with him."
"I love you. He doesn't."
"I'll remember that," she promised, "all evening."
"All right, then." Jay's tone softened. "Let me know how matters work out."
"I will. And thanks, Jay."
She cradled the receiver, aware of a sense of relief. Whatever happened, she could count on Jay to help her. He probably would not even balk at having his name dragged through the mud-although she would never ask him to submit to that.
In the next instant she was worried again. What did Al want? She bathed and dressed carefully-this time for Al. She sensed that if she could make herself desirable to him, he would be easier to handle.
She wished, woman-like, that she had something new to wear. She had not bought a new dress-the kind Al would like-since he had walked out on her. What clothes she had bought had been to please Jay. Her black sheath would have to do, the sleeveless one with the deeply V-cut front. When she was finally ready for the evening, she inspected herself in the full-length mirror and realized how far she had strayed from Al's tastes. She looked good-but hardly recognized the flamboyantly sexy creature in the mirror as herself. A smile, she reflected, would have helped-but she did not feel like smiling.
She left the apartment, taxied to the restaurant. Al was there.
He grinned and surprised her by kissing her on the cheek.
"You look wonderful, Jan." He sounded as though he meant it.
"And you're a beast, Al Kirby," she told him firmly. "I didn't want to come. But now that I'm here, you'd better make it worth my while."
"I'll do my best." He took her arm, led her into the dining room. "I've reserved a table for four. Some friends are going to join us later."
"What land of friends?" Janice asked suspiciously. "Members of that crowd you told me about?"
Al avoided a direct answer. "You'll like them," he said and led her to a candle-lit booth.
He ordered cocktails. Janice looked around.
"Isn't all this pretty expensive?"
"Uh-huh. I had a good week," Al lied. What he was spending was his rent money. "Made more than a hundred bucks in commissions alone. We're celebrating, sort of. You'll know what-later."
" i see," she said. "You can make out well when you try.
"It's not a matter of trying," he told her, "but of how many people come to the lot. This just happened to be an unusually good week."
The drinks came. Janice gulped hers nervously, wishing Al would get to the point of why he had brought her here. But he seemed in no hurry-and presently ordered fresh drinks. Janice was surprised to note that she had finished hers.
Al's friends arrived soon after the new drinks. Al rose to introduce them.
"Greta and Mike Ransome. Mike, Greta-this is Janice. I've told you two about her."
Janice mustered a smile. "How do you do?"
She saw that Greta Ransome was a strikingly beautiful young woman with the blackest of hair, violet eyes and very fair skin.
Smiling back at Janice, Greta said, "Wherever has Al been keeping you? Do tell us why he's been hiding you."
Mike and Greta sat down in the booth. Janice found herself growing increasingly uneasy. Was this woman someone Al had slept with? She tried to put the thought out of her mind.
But she could not keep an edge from her voice. "My husband's motives are a mystery to me much of the time."
Al said, "Motives? Who's got motives?" The Ransomes ordered drinks.
Janice looked at Greta and said, "My husband didn't mention until just a while ago that we were meeting anyone here. We had something private to discuss. Has he known you for long?"
"Not long," the dark-haired girl said. "But it's odd that he hasn't mentioned us. As odd as his keeping you all to himself."
Janice couldn't keep from asking, "Are you friends of Alice Bolton?"
Greta exchanged quick, startled glances with her husband. The two of them then looked uncertainly at Al.
Al said, "Jan knows about my friendship with Alice."
Mike looked at Janice. "We are Alice's friends, as a matter-of-fact."
Looking straight at him, she said, "You seemed hesitant about admitting it. I wonder why."
Her steady gaze seemed to make him uncomfortable. "Not for any good reason," he said. Then smiling at her: "You've a chip on your shoulder, Mrs. Kirby. But I'm not going to knock it off and fight with you. I never fight with attractive women. I appreciate them too much. Being a professional photographer as well as a man, I have a double interest in them."
His smile was puppy-dog friendly and utterly disarming. In spite of her resentful mood, Janice thought him rather nice. Perhaps she was wrong in her suspicions. Besides the peculiar crowd Al had described to her, Alice Bolton might have some perfectly nice friends. And Janice still had no idea of why Al had arranged this meeting. He had to be up to something, though, to have threatened her earlier.
The waitress came with the Ransomes' drinks-and once more Janice discovered she had drained hers. Al ordered new ones and she did not protest. She seldom drank much. But tonight, she sensed, she might need all the fortification she could get.
Conversation in the booth grew desultory, insignificant, casually light. Janice grew aware of both Mike's and Greta's eyes frequently on her, oddly appraising, although friendly. She began to have the feeling of being trapped-and let Al order her additional drinks. Al's eyes on her were malicious, unfriendly. Once more she thought of his threat on the phone. Whatever the trap was, he would spring it. Perhaps, if she drank enough, she would be too numb to feel hurt when the trap closed.
Dinner came-and still no explanation from Al. Janice continued to drink, feeling desperately reckless now. She drank through dinner and-later-at a place called the Flamingo Room, to which the group adjourned.
Another thought had come to her now. If she drank beyond the point of numbness, she might either pass out or create a scene-in which case the trap might not be sprung at all and she could go home. .Or be taken there.
Abruptly Al said to her, "Let's go over to our place, baby."
Janice said, "We've nothing to drink there."
She wanted, needed more liquor. She was drunk-but not drunk enough. At some point the liquor had stopped affecting her. She was too keyed up.
Al said, "I stocked up. I've got a couple of bottles in the car."
So they went to the apartment-hers and Al's-Mike and Greta accompanying them. Mike Ransome helped Janice mount the stairs. Al had his hands full with the bottles and mix. He began fixing drinks for the four of them as soon as they were in the apartment.
"Put some records on, honey," he told Janice.
Again Mike Ransome helped her across the room to the stereo, helped her select soft mood music. Then she sat with another drink in her hand and everything grew quite fuzzy and unreal for her. She was no longer with what was going on.
Al and Greta danced together to the stereo music. Shortly Mike asked her to dance with him. She put her drink down, got to her feet. She swayed, almost went off balance.
She laughed and the sound came out a giggle. "I couldn't possibly," she told him.
"Sure you can," Mike said, taking her in his arms. "Just lean on me-trust yourself to me."
She leaned on him, said, "I'm not trusting myself to you, Mike Ransome. I know what you're after. Wife-swapper, that's what you are. Alice's friend. But nobody gets me in a swap. Nobody-you hear?"
He laughed, said, "You're a little tipsy, Jan."
"More than a little," she said and leaned more and more heavily upon him while a thickening alcoholic haze enveloped her.