Chapter 14

THE friends of friends had been at it—turning Adele's intimate little party into a sardine-packed free-for-all soiree.

Leaning over the terrace railing, Steve gestured broadly at the Manhattan panorama.

"How do you like it, Nina?"

"It's beautiful," Nina beamed. "It's all so different up here," she added, turning in to him. They were forced to speak over the roar of rattling voices and glasses.

Steve shifted his gaze from Manhattan in general to Nina in particular, his eyes running the length of her, thoroughly pleased by the streamlining effect of the low-cut sequined evening dress. The rhinestone necklace and matching earrings gave her a trim look. But most of all, he appreciated the subtle use of make-up, softly highlighting her natural beauty.

"You look wonderful, Nina."

"That's about the tenth time you've told me that this evening." She smiled warmly. "You'll have me believing it."

Adele's maid, Josie squeezed by with a tray of drinks and Steve snatched two of the cocktails.

"Evenin', Mister Turko!" Josie beamed. "Yo' lady friend is certainly pretty."

"Thank you, Josie," Steve replied, "you're looking pretty swell yourself in that new outfit."

Josie squirmed all of her mountainous bulk. `These starched uniforms Miss Adele makes me wear fo' parties are murder!" She leaned closer to Steve. "An' my girdle is about to burst at the seams!"

Steve smiled, was instantly aware that Josie was sent to him for a purpose. "You wouldn't happen to have a message for me? Would you, Josie?"

Josie smiled with evident relief. "You are wanted in the study, Mister Turko." Josie darted a quick glance at Nina, returned her dark banjo eyes to Steve. "I guess you know by who—to meet some very special guests."

Steve calmly handed Nina a cocktail, then gulped his down and replaced it with a fresh one from Josie's tray. "Josie, you just tell Adele that if she wants to see me I'm out on the terrace."

"I'll tell her," Josie shrilled. "But she ain't gonna like it!"

Josie shuffled away amidst the noisy drinkers and Steve returned to Nina with a smile, lifting his glass to her. "What shall we drink to?"

"Steve?" Nina started cautiously. "If you have business to attend to . . ." She hesitated. "I mean, I don't know what it's all about but"

"Stay as innocent as you are," Steve interrupted. "So let's drink to innocence."

Steve gulped most of his cocktail, a Manhattan, while Nina sipped hers.

Nina gestured discreetly toward the bulk of the gathering. "Steve, you don't like these people, do you?"

"No, not especially."

"Then why are we here?"

"To pretend that we do like them." He shrugged indifferently, "It's all part of the success formula. When you don't like someone—you smile them to death." He studied the frown on her face. "Now ditch that frown and enjoy the view."

"Steve, darling!" Adele shrilled, working her way through the boisterous crowd. "There you are!"

Steve nodded his greeting, gestured to Nina. "Nina Caldwell, Adele Crandon."

"Nina Caldwell?" Adele questioned, dwelling on the name as Nipa smiled her greeting. "Why does that name strike a bell for me?"

"She's in the movies," Steve straightf aced.

"No," Nina blushed. "I'm Steve's secretary."

"Well, how nice," Adele uttered in a manner which could have been taken either way.

Steve coughed his way out of the impasse. "I'm looking forward to meeting your husband, Adele," he emphasized decidedly for cynicism.

"Well, you'd better hurry," Adele informed him. "He's in the midst of getting stinko-drunk."

"Isn't that bad for his tennis game?" Steve sareasmed.

Adele tightened in obvious anger, showed quick restraint, smiling at Nina. "I'm really delighted that Steve brought you along, Nina. We must get better acquainted." She turned solemnly to Steve. "There's a few people I'd like to have you meet—"

"Don't tell me!" a voice boomed from the edge of the crowd and a tall, sandy-haired, boyish-looking man pushed his way up to Steve. Once in front of Steve, he stopped, swayed drunkenly as he tapped Steve on the shoulder. "Don't tell me," he repeated thickly, coughing intermittently. "I know who you are. You are Steve Turko—boy-sales wizard, self-made man extraordinary!"

"Tommy?" Adele hissed. "People are watching, you're making a spectacle of yourself." She turned apologetically to Nina. "My husband is celebrating —you'll excuse him."

"I am not celebrating," Tommy corrected, coughing loudly. "I'm drinking to kill this damned cold!"

"You can't be too careful this time of year," Nina offered. "Just about everybody seems to have a cold."

Tommy wrinkled his nose at Nina, checked his coughing. "How ya doing, doll-face?"

Steve moved in threateningly on Tommy. "Her name is not doll-face!"

"Well, it's a nice face," Tommy shot back drunkenly. "It's sweet'n pure—what all those damned poets keep writing about!"

"Steve," Adele cut in. "Tommy didn't mean any-thing—"

"Now, mommy," her drunken husband interrupted. "I'm a big boy now and I can take care of myself." Tommy smiled drunkenly at Steve. "Wait'll she gives you the full mother-complex. Just you wait until she starts picking out the suits you should wear —or is that already one of her selections you're wearing?"

"Tommy," Adele uttered forcefully. "Will you please stop making a damned ass of yourself!"

"But I like him!" Tommy explained, then smiled in Nina's direction. "Her, too. She's about the sweetest person I've seen here tonight among this motley mob of booze-chiselers." He wobbled closer to Nina, flinging his arm around her bare shoulder. "What-ever you do," he cautioned her, "don't buy any stock from these swindlers—don't invest a penny." He wrinkled his nose at her again. "Let's you an' I go chisel a free drink—"

Steve started into action, as though pulling out of a stupor. He jabbed his forefinger in Tommy's direction. "I'm gonna give you exactly three seconds to take your cruddy paws off that girl."

"Steve, please," Adele interjected. "Tommy doesn't mean any harm."

"Stay out of this, Adele," Steve warned.

Tommy suddenly glowed, made a production of untangling himself from somewhat frightened Nina, and bowed graciously to Steve. "A million-and-ahalf pardons, Mister Turko! I didn't know she was your girl." He looked slyly from Steve to Adele. "I'll say one thing for you, Steve-ol'boy—you've got guts!"

"Fella," Steve started menacingly. "Keep asking for it an' I'm gonna bruise the pretty-boy face of yours!"

"But I like you," Tommy drunkenly protested, reaching out as though to embrace Steve. "Is that any way to talk to a buddy?"

Steve sidestepped him. "Keep your hands to your-self."

Tommy turned to Adele with an evident look of hurt on his face. "He's very hostile—not a bit like the others. I liked your last boy—or was it the one be-fore him? Anyway, he wasn't so damned qualmy about it all—and a great drinking buddy!"

Adele nervously turned to Steve. "Why don't you take Nina over to the bar for a drink?"

Tommy drunkenly swayed his head in a negative manner. "Adele, you'll never break him in properly—"

Something snapped for Steve and he lunged out, grasping the lapels of Tommy's jacket, jamming him up close to him. "I'm gonna shut your damned mouth!"

"Steve—don't!" Adele pleaded.

"Let him go," Nina said softly.

Steve caught hold of his senses, instantly aware of the many onlookers. He released Tommy with a slight push away from him.

Tommy straightened his clothing with a smile. "Mister Turko, I still like you!"

"Oh, the hell—" Steve snarled.

"But you don't like me. And you wanna know why you don't like me?"

"Please, no more," Adele begged, then feigned a broad smile at the curious guests milling about. "Just a little discussion—plenty of drinks at the bar, every-body." She turned quickly, looping her arm through one of Tommy's. "Come on, you've had enough."

"No, wait," Steve cut in. "Let him finish his little spiel."

Tommy arrogantly jerked free of Adele. "Thank you, Steve," he swayed drunkenly. "Now you wanna know why you don't like me?"

"You've got the floor," Steve replied.

Tommy puffed his chest out, then exhaled, taking his time about it all. "Because I am a mirror. In me, you see yourself—and it's a pretty crummy picture, isn't it, Mister Turko?"

'Steve started to move away. "You're drunk."

"I'm a mirror!" Tommy vehemently insisted. "Mirror-mirror on the wall, who's the smartest of them all—' " He swayed precariously, then gripped himself soberly. "Adele-Adele—you idiot!"

"That's enough," Steve warned.

"I needed Adele for a reason," Tommy went right on. "Now you need her for another reason." He shrugged big-heartedly. "You can't blame a guy for trying to get ahead." He sideglanced Steve. "You've probably already discovered that she's capable of delivering whatever she promises. Only her asking price is pretty steep, isn't it? And what you'll discover too late is that whenever you give anyone your soul—it's a helluva job getting it back."

Steve reddened, avoided looking at Nina. The words stuck and his throat was cotton.

Tommy pulled himself up to his full height—easily two inches shorter than Steve, shoulders not nearly as broad. "I'll bet you'd like to hit me in the mouth—break the minor."

"You sonuvabitch," Steve tightlipped.

"Hey! Maybe you'd like me then like I like you!" Tommy beamed.

"Tommy, please," Adele begged.

Steve edged up to Tommy. "You'd like to see me make a damned fool of myself in front of all these people, wouldn't you?"

"On the contrary—" Tommy swayed. "As I said —I like you."

Steve tightened angrily. "If you say that once more—"

"Now, now, Steve, no need to wreck Adele's gorgeous party. There might be a number of potential investors among all these two-bit phonies." He smiled smugly. "I know a beaut of an empty lot behind the building where no one will bother us."

"You're drunk—" Steve shrugged, "I wouldn't take advantage of you while—"

"A fight always sobers me up," Tommy interrupted. "But I must warn you—I was inter-collegiate boxing champion three years running and I work out in a gym practically every day."

"You two stop this idiotic nonsense!" Adele angered.

Steve ignored Adele, eyes trained on Tommy. He had a bellyful of the ageless boy-wonder of the sports world, and his clenched fists ached to crack against that chin of his. "Let's go find this empty lot," he tightlipped.

Adele and Nina moved in simultaneously to pro-test, but Tommy eased them off with a smile and a wave of his hand. "You girls keep the party going." He turned to Steve. "Smile nice and chat amicably until we get past all' these phonies."

Steve smiled as they started through the wild group of males, females, and some of indeterminate gender all desperately clutching their drinks and cackling incessantly—but he didn't bother with the friendly chatter. Tommy, in contrast, made the trip to the exit greeting people and accepting their congratulations on his recent tennis victory. A number of Tommy's well-wishers were enough to make Steve vomit and he was happy to get out into the comparative solitude of the corridor. As Steve jabbed the "down" button for the elevator, he turned suddenly at the sight of Nina rushing toward him.

"I'm going with you, Steve."

"But I'll be right back—-"

"Even if I have to carry him back," Tommy quipped. Tommy coughed loudly, then forced a smile. "Hey, maybe a good fight is what I need to break this cold?"

Steve darted a dirty look at Tommy, then turned to Nina. "Nina, I'll explain later—"

"Oh, let her come along," Tommy interrupted. "She'll hold our jackets. Besides, I always perform better with an audience."

Steve turned suddenly on Tommy, choked back the vulgarities lodged in his throat and controlled himself as the elevator portal opened. "Playboy," Steve hissed. "I'm gonna make mince meat out of that smug face of yours."

Tommy gallantly motioned for Nina to enter the elevator car first, then gestured for Steve to enter with a smile. "Mister Turko, we shall see about that."