Chapter 8
Monday morning as he dressed for the office, Eric was still thinking about her. He went out and got toast and coffee at one of the local hamburger joints, too engrossed with the problem of Robin to bother fixing his own breakfast. The new knowledge of why Donald was unwilling to be fixed up with a woman began to alter his plans. The toast tasted dry and rough in his mouth. All of him felt rough and his impulse was to tell Millardson the deal was off. If he had any sense, he would get out from under. He didn't want to be the focal point of so many lives. And he could feel his freedom slipping away again, as a result. No use kidding himself. Stupid or not, he had to go through with this thing.
He rode upstairs in the jammed elevator and strode through the clatter of typewriters to his own cubicle overlooking Madison Square Park. It wasn't much of an office. Papers stacked on his battered desk. More papers piled on top of the scratched cabinets. The Millardson account could move him upstairs, give him an air-conditioned office and a private secretary. But the money alone wasn't enough reason. He knew he would be just as glad to get the hell out of here altogether and start bumming around again. Except there was more to it than the money. Robin's future was a precious commodity to him in a way he couldn't explain. He picked up one of the ball point pens and began scribbling policy sheets, letting the back of his mind work out what was to be done concerning Donald.
When the lunch break arrived, he decided to collect the favor Cee-Zee owed him.
He ducked out of the office and headed for a private phone booth, hoping it was still early enough to get Geraldine in.
The phone rang seven times and he was about to hang up when her voice answered, out of breath.
"I was halfway down the steps already," she said with annoyance. "What d'you want?"
He knew he was taking a chance. Geraldine was hardly someone to count on. She had no reason to be on his side rather than Lilio's. Regardless of whether Lilio found out or not, he said, "Will you tell Cee-Zee to call me? Will you do that, Geraldine?"
"Is this the big dough you promised me?"
"When Cee-Zee calls, I'll send you twenty as a starter."
"Chicken feed. You're a phony, mister, and I got no time to play."
"If she's a friend of yours, you'll tell her to call whether you like me or not."
"Sure. And get the boss breathing down my neck. Not on your life."
"All right then. Can you tell me where I can reach her?"
"I don't know nothing."
The receiver slammed in his ear.
He sat for awhile in the stifling phone booth adjusting himself to the fact that the only way he could contact Cee-Zee would be by going to get her. This meant running into Lilio again.
The rest of the afternoon he fiddled away restlessly, watching the hands of the big clock at the other end of the room. His patience ebbed low. But beyond that, he felt the security that Cee-Zee wouldn't let him down.
He was cold sober and steady when he reached Lilio's joint. A heavy gray fog rolled in from the Hudson, blanketing the houses and smudging the street. The long searching voice of a boat horn stretched up from the water. Reality seemed a million miles away. He took the steps to the door on one jump and pushed his way inside.
The place was not as crowded tonight. He spotted Geraldine standing idly at the back wall, looking ridiculous in her gauzy apron. The few customers were apparently steadies, most of them dull from too much alcohol and unable to take other advantage of the service than to call an occasional obscenity after the disappearing behinds of the girls who served their drinks.
He had no sane reason to think that Cee-Zee would be here tonight but it was his only chance of contact. Working his way past the tables, he approached Geraldine. She looked at him without enthusiasm and pretended to busy herself behind the bar.
"Hi," he said and dropped a five spot on the counter. "Remember me?"
She glanced at the money and shrugged. "Never saw you before. Why don't you go home?"
"I'll go home." He added another five. "Soon. Now be a nice girl and save us all a lot of trouble."
She uncorked a fresh bottle of Scotch and poured half of it into another bottle partially filled with water, then screwed on a shot measure. The sheen of her white hair curved in a stiff wig-like page boy around her shoulders.
"Come on, be nice," he coaxed, adding another bill to the pile. "Business is lousy tonight anyway."
She surveyed the fifteen dollars and stroked her cheek.
"Money is a girl's best friend, isn't it?" He climbed up on the bar stool and waited.
"Nobody's here," she said, taking the money. "I don't know where your girl friend is. She doesn't tell me her secrets."
He grabbed her hand and squeezed the wrist. "Quit stalling me, girl. I'm in no mood."
"You're hurting my arm," she whined, her face screwing up.
"It'll get worse if you don't talk."
"Well, where do you think she is, stupid?" Her head motioned to the back room.
He had the sickening feeling that he would walk inside and find Cee-Zee with the chimp. And there wasn't much he could do about getting her out of there in a rush if she were undressed.
A man's raincoat hung over the back of a chair. He grabbed it up, then ducked in through the little door to the back room.
She was undressed all right, practically naked in black bra and panties. She stood in high heels on top of an upright piano, belting out, "Some of these days, you're gonna miss me, honey" in a raucous voice that barely carried the tune. She held a life-sized rag doll in one arm and bumped her belly against it at the end of each line of song. Her eyes were closed and her body wavered, threatening to tumble off the piano at any moment. The half a dozen people in the dimness were singing along with her. Lilio stood in the shadows, chewing a long thin cigar, nodding and chuckling to himself. There was nobody at the piano.
He had to do it fast. Taking three steps to the piano, he jumped up on the stool and grabbed Cee-Zee. He pulled her down. Her knees buckled under her drunken weight. He held her up by the waist and tossed the coat over her.
"You're a dead man, monsieur," Lilio's voice rang out.
Instinctively Eric ducked at the words, letting Cee-Zee fold up with him. A knife whizzed past his shoulder and landed with a whanging sound in the piano. He started to drag Cee-Zee toward the door. The audience sat dumbfounded, not knowing whether or not this was part of the act. Lilio made it to the door in a few bouncing movements. Bracing Cee-Zee in one arm, Eric smashed his fist into the soft face. He felt the mushy mashing of bones beneath the fat. The force of his blow spun Lilio half around. A woman screamed. He brought his knee up into Lilio's groin. The man jackknifed and tumbled to the floor.
Eric didn't want to watch. He kicked the door open, pulling Cee-Zee outside, across the length of the room. They banged into tables, knocking over bottles and glasses. The crashing, shattering sound of glassware made a noisy path toward the exit.
They came out into the fog. He tried to stand her on her own feet. Stumbling and tripping, she hung onto his collar. He had to hold the raincoat closed as it flapped open to reveal her scanty underthings.
He made it with her to Broadway and searched through the weather for the lights of a taxi, glancing back every so often to see that no one had come out after them.
A cab finally pulled up and he shoved Cee-Zee inside and climbed in beside her, telling the cabbie his address. She crumpled up in a corner of the seat. He came close to her and slapped her cheeks lightly, realizing that she didn't smell of liquor. He lifted an eyelid and saw that the iris had rolled up toward the top of her head. He moved a hand inside the raincoat and felt beneath her warm breast for the beating of her heart. The rapid thudding did not reassure him. For all he knew, he had a potential corpse beside him.
"You better make it to the hospital," he called to the cabbie. "And quick."
For what seemed like hours, he paced the corridor. The sound of his own shoes clicked loudly in his ears. He felt for cigarettes and found the package empty. He crumpled it and flung it into an urn of sand. A white clad nurse glided by. She smiled at him and he scowled back.
He jammed his hands into his pockets and went down the antiseptic smelling hall to the desk attendant bending over a magazine in the yellow arc of lamplight.
"Where can I get cigarettes in this place?" His nerves were too knotted to bother with politeness.
'You can't," she said blandly. Then she opened a desk drawer. "But please take these. We keep them for emergencies."
"Thanks." He dropped a fifty cent piece on the blotter and went back to his vigil outside the emergency ward.
His shirt felt bathed with sweat. He sat down on a wooden bench, leaning his head back against the unyielding wall.
An intern finally came out. Patches of skin showed through his close shaven head. "Miss Walter will be all right," he said. "But I'm afraid there are a few complications."
Eric stood up. "What kind? What do you mean?" He felt sopped through with nicotine but he lit another cigarette anyway.
"I mean legal ones. Miss Walter is suffering from an overdose of delauded hydrochloride. Narcotics. I'm sorry, but we'll have to notify the police."
Eric let the smoke out in a long silent breath. A chill prickled up along his neck. Cee-Zee wasn't a dope addict. He knew that. It didn't make sense to him. She had too much on the ball to go after this kind of kicks.
"Can I see her?"
"Are you a relative?"
"Yes."
"She's in no condition to speak with anyone but if you want to go in for a few minutes...."
"Thanks."
He pushed through the swinging doors and found her yellow white and sweating. Carefully he took one clammy hand into his own.
"Honey, it's me, Eric. Can you speak? What happened?"
She swallowed hard and tried to open her lips. They were cracked and dry. "I'm thirsty ... nauseous."
A nurse came up with a pan and put it beneath Cee-Zee's chin. Her body heaved with tearing wrenches but nothing came up except a thin stream of saliva. Eric held the pan and motioned the nurse away.
"She can't have anything to drink. I'm sorry," the nurse said.
"Everyone's so sorry around here," he muttered. Then, turning to Cee-Zee, he said, "Can you tell me what happened, kid? You're in bad trouble."
"I don't know," she said between convulsions.
He sighed, believing her. "Maybe Lilio gave you something. Can you remember?"
"I feel lousy."
"I know. But try to think. You've got to tell me something if we're going to get you out of this."
"Can't think. Nauseous. It hurts. All of me hurts so."
The intern came back. "You'll have to step outside now, Mr. Spokane."
He touched Cee-Zee's forehead with his lips. "Just take it easy and don't worry. I'll see what I can do about getting a lawyer."
Her lips made the effort to smile but her eyes remained smeared with the pain.
"I'll be back in the morning."
He walked through the condensed wetness on York Avenue, trying to figure it. The main thing was that he had to clear Cee-Zee. He felt convinced that it wasn't her fault. A good lawyer, one with lots of drag, could fix it up for her in a hurry.
He sat it out through the rest of the night. At nine a.m. he phoned Millardson.